Step in the Dark (Pollard & Toye Investigations Book 8) by Elizabeth Lemarchand

Author:Elizabeth Lemarchand [Lemarchand, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2019-02-06T22:00:00+00:00

Strip lighting overhead flooded Evelyn Escott’s small kitchen, illuminating the various objects on the table.

‘It’s a dead cert, sir,’ Detective-Constable Neale told Pollard. ‘You’ve only got to look at this glove under the mike. See where a thread’s been pulled in the first finger where it’s caught on something rough? Now take a look at the blow-up of the dabs on the door handle your chap did... Bit mucky, with the three lots, but the pattern and that pulled thread stand out like a sore thumb, don’t they?’

Pollard and Toye looked, as requested, and agreed. After some further discussion Constable Neale reluctantly departed.

‘Where do you propose going from here?’ James Westlake asked Pollard, leaning against the sink with hands thrust into his trouser pockets.

‘We’d better have a quick look round, I think, in case there’s some clue to where Miss Escott’s gone. Do you mind waiting?’

‘Not in the least. I’ll stay in here and keep out of the way.’

A glance into the refrigerator disclosed eggs and fats but no milk or cooked food. Remarking that this suggested a return before very long, Pollard led the way into the tiny hall and stood looking round. The house was scrupulously clean and tidy but upstairs, in Evelyn Escott’s bedroom, there were signs of a hurried departure. Drawers were not quite shut and garments had been bundled into a hanging cupboard.

Leaving Toye to investigate further, Pollard went down to the sitting room. Utilitarian, like the rest of the house, he thought, groping for the right adjective. Everything rather depressingly sensible and hardwearing. Colours that didn’t show the dirt. He had a quick vision of Jane removing small fingermarks form the white paint, which contributed so much light and brightness to their very ordinary suburban house. Here there wasn’t the vestige of a frill. The few pictures were standard reproductions, too well known, and inevitably including Van Gogh’s Sunflowers. It was difficult to feel that Evelyn Escott found them inspiring. A modest TV set was the nearest approach to an outlay for enjoyment. The whole set-up was the home of someone accustomed, over the years, to count every penny.

He turned his attention to the books. The English classics were in evidence, and there were standard reference books and well-known semi-popular works on aspects of social history. A run of thin, paper-covered books attracted his attention and he pulled out a few. They were intermittent publications by members of the Ramsden Literary and Scientific Society, on subjects relating to the town and the surrounding countryside of Glintshire. Vestigial Frescoes in the Church of St James the Less, Marlingford, he read. The Eglington Earthwork, Pillow Lavas in the Parish of Great Bidding, the Last Polecats of Glintshire...

Wrenching himself away from this fascinating investigation, Pollard replaced the booklets while reflecting that more and more about less and less had its attractions. In micro-activity of this sort you must surely be able to feel that you really had covered the ground.

The solid writing table in the window had two drawers.

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