Great Deliverance by Elizabeth George

Author:Elizabeth George [George, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0553278029
Amazon: B004DEPHXE
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2010-12-08T06:00:00+00:00

9

Organ music seemed to be blasting from the very trees. It swelled to crescendoes, faded, and roared out again: a baroque combination of chords, rests, and flourishes that made Lynley think that at any moment the phantom himself would come swinging down from the opera chandeliers. At the appearance of the Bentley, the two men parted, the one shouting a final violent imprecation at Nigel Parrish before he stalked off in the direction of the high street.

“I think I’ll have a word with our Nigel,” Lynley remarked. “No need for you to come, Havers. Go have a bit of a rest.”

“I can certainly—”

“That’s an order, Sergeant.”

Damn him. “Yes, sir.”

Lynley waited until Havers had disappeared into the lodge before he walked back across the bridge to the strange little cottage that sat on the far side of the common. It was, he thought, a more than curious structure. The front of the building was trellissed by late roses. Unrestrained, they spread out like an encroaching wilderness towards the narrow windows on either side of the door. They climbed the wall, crowned the lintel majestically, and travelled upward to begin their glory on the roof. They were a solid blanket of disturbing colour—blood red—and they flooded the air with a scent so rich as to be virtually miasmal. The entire effect was one step short of obscene.

Nigel Parrish had already retreated inside, and Lynley followed him, pausing in the open doorway to survey the room. The source of the music that continued to soar round them was a speaker system that beggared belief. Enormous amplifiers sat in all four corners, creating at the centre a vortex of sound. Other than an organ, a tape recorder, a receiver, and a turntable, there was nothing in the room save a threadbare carpet and a few old chairs.

Parrish switched off the tape recorder that had been the source of the sound. He rewound the tape, removed it from the machine, and replaced it in its container. He took his time about it all, giving every movement a precision which told Lynley that he knew very well that the other man was standing at the door. It was nonetheless a nice performance.

“Mr. Parrish?”

A start of surprise. A swift turn. A welcoming smile breaking over the features. But he couldn’t hide the fact that his hands were shaking. As Lynley saw this, so apparently did Parrish, for he stuffed them into the pockets of his tweed trousers.

“Inspector! A social call, I hope? Sorry you had to come upon that little scene with Ezra.”

“Ah. So that was Ezra.”

“Yes. Honey-haired, honey-tongued little Ezra. Dear boy thought artistic licence’ gave him access to my back garden to study the light on the river. Can you imagine such cheek? Here I was fine-tuning my psyche with Bach when I glanced out the window and saw him setting up shop. Blast his pretty little heart.”

“It’s a bit late in the afternoon to be setting up for a painting,” Lynley remarked. He wandered to the window.

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