Sabrina & The Secret of The Severn Sea by Guy Sheppard

Author:Guy Sheppard [Sheppard, Guy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Socciones Editoria Digitale
Published: 2017-12-20T05:00:00+00:00

28

If food were a drug then it was also his best friend, thought Jorge as he sat up in bed, sweating. He was in need of some sort of detox.

Definitely was he missing his classic full English breakfast.

There was something addictive about the sight of pork sausages, eggs, thick-cut bacon, grilled tomato, hash brown, beans and sourdough bread.

Of one thing he was cruelly aware: such hallucinations of good food still visited him in his dreams. His favourite start to the day, when living in York, had been a particularly mouth-watering combination of orange and cinnamon sugar torrijas with smoked bacon, crème fraiche, toasted almonds and maple syrup.

Right now he could taste wonderful things in his chewed up pillow.

Instead of which it was Day Six of his cabbage soup diet.

No wonder he didn’t want to leave his bed.

Today was the day he could eat as much protein as he liked, though, which meant steak and leafy greens.

Praise be.

He stumbled into Hill House’s bathroom to shave where, critically, he regarded himself in the mirror. His fat jowls looked like a squirrel’s. Their entire disposition struck an attitude that was of smug but unsettling defiance.

‘You think I look a bit thinner today?’

At his feet Sasha rolled her eyes. Her look, her stance, the droop in her tail, these were all sympathetic demonstrations of the subtle difference between a whine and a whimper.

Sam Rooke’s messianic bonfire of Luke’s effects suggested that the gardener knew more than he cared to admit about why he wanted to destroy such valuable evidence, Jorge concluded.

The pyromaniac had in no way misunderstood some vague instruction to tidy the house, but had set about it with a fiery vengeance as if to eradicate some definite evil. Surely it was the thought of not finishing the task that had filled his eyes with such obstreperousness, which explained why he had not yet returned to dig the celery trenches, as promised.

Next minute the phone rang.

It was Hammond.

‘Guess what, Inspector? The police in Bristol are convinced that Frank Cordell leapt off that roof all by himself. He was high on Black Mamba, apparently.’

Jorge gave a snort.

‘Frank was in a very bad way but trust me, the only leap he ever meant to make was into the dark by meeting me. I arrived too late to save him, thanks to a real suicide off Clifton Suspension Bridge. There’s something more we need to know, I’m sure of it.’

‘I did some digging like you said, Inspector.’

‘Very well, let’s hear it.’

‘It seems Frank did a bit of excavating himself.’

‘How come?’

‘Seriously, he was twice fined and then ‘sent down’ for digging up archaeologically important wrecks along the River Severn. He’s been at it for years, on and off, between spells in prison.’

‘I know the place very well, at Purton. Did he say what he was really doing there, at all?’

‘Nothing was found on him but he’d cleared a very deep trench next to one of the keels.’

‘Interesting.’

‘It seems the fool really did believe in buried treasure.’

‘Did you

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