The Murder Diaries_Seven Times Over by David Carter

Author:David Carter [Carter, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Murder Mystery, crime fiction, British crime fiction, Walter Darriteau, David Carter, police fiction, crime stories, murder mysteries, whodunnits, English crime fiction, crime novels, british detectives
Publisher: TrackerDog Media
Published: 2017-02-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-Two

Two days after Desiree Holloway returned from Australia she made her way by rail to Ludlow, and then by taxi the five miles into the border country to Billington Hall. It was a large and attractive redbrick house, formerly the residence of a minor aristocrat who had returned from the First World War, minus his four sons, and his mind.

The gentleman never recovered, and in exchange for his ongoing lifetime medical care, the government requisitioned the property. There was no one else to do so, and as it had fallen into a state of disrepair. The locals were happy to see it being brought back to its former glory, though some pondered on where the lavish amounts of money being expended was coming from.

It had remained in government hands ever since. Signalling station during World War Two, interrogation centre immediately afterwards for suspected war criminals, intelligence briefing centre during the cold war, monitoring station during the Irish troubles, and now it had become a crammer college specialising in politically sensitive fields.

It was a rambling place that had been three times extended since the government first took possession of the keys, comfortably able to provide living accommodation for the relatively small number of students. Desiree would live on the premises and would remain so for the entire week she was there.

She had adored Japan.

The countryside, the warmth and vibrancy of the people, the food, and the crazy technology that was everywhere, that seemed to be light years ahead of anywhere else. She was impressed too with Professor Takanato at Tokyo University. He had been quite open about the work he was doing, allowing her to sit in on his experiments and classes. He even took her to dinner and gave her his telephone numbers, in case she should ever need his advice or input. He gave her a few pointers too that she knew would assist in her own work, and she was both impressed and grateful for that.

Australia was quite different, though no less illuminating. Professor Jim McClaine was somewhat standoffish, as if concerned that she might borrow his work and pass it off as her own. The country was going through one of its periodic droughts and the sun shone ferociously, temperatures soared, patience was obvious by its absence, and though they parted on amicable terms, she hadn’t enjoyed her first trip down under.

Back in Britain, she returned to the classroom, staring at the same old revolving, reusable blackboards that bore traces of hastily scrubbed former lessons. There were only four people in the class, two men and two women, all under thirty, and during the week, three tutors appeared, all under forty. The tutors did most of the talking. The pupils listened and noted and wrote. The days were long, they started at eight and finished at seven, and by the time they had dined and updated their notes, it was time for bed.

Much of the one-sided discussions revolved around dealing personally, mentally, and ethically with the work ahead.

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