Her bitterness focussed and held. How foolish she had been. Duped by that charlatan Santiago into believing she had sufficient money to perfect her gambling scheme! She saw quite clearly where she’d made the crucial mistake. If she’d gone it alone, she’d have won. Shortage of money had caused this. If only she’d had enough, the balance would come right.
There would be racing on Wednesday at Sha-Tin Heights. And Macao’s casinos functioned for ever. All it took was one small bet. By doubling, you could recoup enough to make a flying start for really big winnings. She’d been so close. If it hadn’t been for that treacherous girl who’d cheated her by telling Santiago the wrong horses…Or, cruellest thought, had Santiago concealed KwayFay’s revelations for himself, and deliberately misled her with false information? She moaned in pain.
The driver’s eyes stared knowingly in the rear-view mirror. She was his eighteenth loser this week. He wondered how long she would last before madness took over. He knew madness.
By the time they reached Central, Linda had gathered herself. Betting odds were what counted, not the motives. HC would surely have enough for her to make a new beginning. HC could always raise a loan. She would not ask much. Maybe a few hundred dollars. Okay, then, a couple of thousand, certainly not more. A new jockey was due in next week from England. Rumour said he’d ridden winners at Ascot, Newmarket. She had to be there. It was essential. How else could she win enough to pay back the money-lenders? HC would see the plight she was in, and arrange what, three thousand, maybe four? Very well, a round figure, say five thousand, a decent starting bet.
“Police ahead,” the driver said. The taxi neared the end of Queensway.
Louts mugging tourists no doubt, Linda thought irritably. She told him to set her down by the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank corner and flung him her last few dollars. Quickly she crossed the road into Statue Square. Penniless. The quicker she reached HC, the quicker she could start afresh. Even for HC she knew she must look confident, a winner. Few gamblers knew how to turn losing into winning, but she did.
The prospect ahead was filled with golden opportunities. Any gambler could see that.
She approached the building. Police and ambulances were just arriving, quickly blocking off crowds. A large blue limousine parked opposite started up and pulled away. For one mad moment she imagined she saw KwayFay’s pale face in the rear window as the vehicle accelerated westwards, but that could only have been fancy. Linda resolved to have the bitch sacked.
She pushed to the front among the chattering spectators and stood staring at the scene, the scattered glass, the flashing police lights, the disordered corpse on the pavement, and looked up to identify the office from which the fool, doubtless another pathetic failure, had taken the final step of shame. What fools some people were, she thought.
About the Author
JONATHAN GASH is the author of a number of crime novels. A qualified doctor specialising in tropical medicine, he is married with three daughters and four grandchildren. He lists his hobbies as antique collecting and his family.
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Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
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First published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2004.
This ebook edition published by Allison & Busby in 2013.
Copyright © 2004 by JONATHAN GASH
The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 978–0–7490–1324–0
The Year of the Woman Page 28
