Murder at the Treasure Hunt by David W Robinson

Author:David W Robinson [Robinson, David W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: darkstroke books
Published: 2019-05-31T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

At Whitby’s latitude, midsummer nights were problematic. It never truly got dark. Even at midnight, in the far north there was a glow of twilight, and it was enough to highlight their activities, even without streetlamps, and as if the gods had decided that matters should be worse, the Moon, a few days past full, lit up Mount Street from the southwest.

It was an even bigger problem for Joe. He had not brought dark clothing with him. “It’s the middle of summer,” he told Maddy. “Why would I be carrying winter jumpers? And I haven’t owned a balaclava since I was a kid. I don’t need one. I prefer sinking a few beers to robbing and mugging other people of a night.”

Ignoring his stereotypical view of people who wore such clothing , Maddy solved the problem by loaning him a pair of her slacks and a black jumper, which unfortunately had a diamante brooch in the shape of a letter ‘M’ above the left breast. His ensemble was completed by a navy blue, woolly beanie decorated with Santas and reindeer.

“We’re going out breaking and entering,” he reminded her, “not to a Christmas party.”

“Fine, Joe, in that case put your Hawaiian beach shirt on.”

Joe decided that silence was preferable to further argument, and at a few minutes to midnight, they set off in his car to meander through the complex latticework of streets running off Cliff Road.

Joe had already consulted an online map of Cragshaven village, and there were few streets either side of the main road, but following the route as dictated by Maddy, he doubted that he would ever find Mount Street again, or find his way back to Maddy’s bungalow.

Kim Ashton’s place was a two bed bungalow, similar to Maddy’s, but incongruously planted in the middle of the street of two and three-storey houses, all of which dwarfed the bungalow.

It was fronted by an untidy scrub of overgrown grass, which, Joe supposed, could have been described as a lawn at one time, but which had obviously seen no attention in months. There was a drive and a garage attached to the side of the bungalow, and alongside that was a narrow path which led to the rear.

Joe drove past to the end of the street, turned left and parked his car. There was a main road of sorts 100 yards ahead, and with the possibility of them being spotted, or triggering burglar alarms at the forefront of his mind, he fervently hoped that it was Cliff Road. They might need to make a quick getaway.

Nonchalance and discretion were difficult while they were both dressed in such comically sinister outerwear. In Joe’s mind, it was akin to wandering along the seafront in Torremolinos wearing an overcoat, when everyone else was in swimming shorts and bikinis.

Maddy was more concerned with getting the job done as quickly and quietly as they could, and she stepped up the pace as they strode along the street, into the front drive of number 16, and sidled quickly down alongside the garage to the rear of the house.

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