No Cure for Love by Peter Robinson by Robinson Peter

Author:Robinson, Peter [Robinson, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B017PNXZZ6
Goodreads: 143996698
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton; edition (2015-07-30)
Published: 2016-01-12T00:00:00+00:00

26

WHEN SARAH AWOKE THE FOLLOWING MORNING, she felt as if she had taken a sleeping pill; her mouth was dry, eyes heavy, and her head felt muzzy, as if it were filled with warm cotton wool. For a while, she didn’t know where she was. Then she realized she was home at the beach house again.

She lay on her back watching the play of green light on her ceiling and walls, listening to the waves, the gulls and the rumble of traffic on the Coast Highway. In the background, she could hear the gabble of a radio talk show coming from next door.

Slowly, she rolled out of bed, stretched and wandered downstairs to put the coffee on before she took a shower. She’d skip the run this morning. It would take a couple of days to get back into the routine. Maybe even longer.

She had finished grinding the coffee and was tapping it into the filter cone, when the man walked into the kitchen. At first she was aware only of a presence, like a shadow crossing her heart. Grasping a kitchen knife, she twirled round to face him.

It was the detective. He just stood there rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, tie askew, hair dishevelled, hand on his gun in its nylon holster at his waist.

And the next thing Sarah realized was that she was stark naked, as usual first thing in the morning. She always slept in the nude and came down naked to put on the coffee. There was no reason to worry about anyone seeing her because she always closed the front drapes before she went to bed and there were no windows at the back or sides of the house.

Though Sarah had never been concerned about appearing nude in films, this time, in front of a stranger in her own home, she felt vulnerable and shy about it. She especially didn’t want this man to see her naked. Too late for that.

She put the knife down, gave him a hard look and walked to the door with as much dignity as she could muster. Dumbly, he moved aside to let her through. They were so close that she couldn’t help but brush lightly against him as she went. “Coffee’s on,” she said over her shoulder, feeling her skin burn with shame and embarrassment. She could feel him watching her as she walked away.

In the shower, she began to remember how the previous evening had ended, how she had sobbed uncontrollably and he had comforted her in a perfectly gentlemanly way, held her close, told her everything was going to be fine. She had been crying as much for Jack as for anything else, and in a way it had been a relief finally to let it all out.

Stuart had returned with the coffee and other groceries, and the detective had asked him to leave. Then, she had told him everything, just as she had told all to Paula on Christmas Day.

Far from being angry with her, he had simply nodded, made notes, asked more questions.

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