Children of the Revolution by Peter Robinson

Author:Peter Robinson [Robinson, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Mystery
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2014-03-25T04:00:00+00:00

‘What do you want this time?’ asked Dayle Snider, when she opened her front door to Annie and Winsome later that morning. ‘It’s supposed to be my day off.’

‘So they told us at the centre,’ said Annie. ‘Mind if we come in?’

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘There’s always a choice,’ said Annie, following her into the hall.

Dayle was wearing a close-fitting tracksuit with a white stripe down the trouser legs and trainers with blue markings. Her brow seemed a little clammy, as if she had been working out. Almost as if she had intuited Annie’s line of thought, she said, ‘Yes, you did disturb me, actually. I was on the treadmill.’

‘Never understood the point of those things,’ said Annie. ‘Not when you’ve got such beautiful countryside all around you, in all directions.’

‘Have you checked the weather lately, Detective Inspector Cabbot?’

‘It’s a fine morning for a long walk.’

‘For once.’ She led them into a bright, compact kitchen that looked over the dale to the west, its steeply rising valley sides criss-crossed with drystone walls, slopes deep green from the summer’s rains rising to rocky outcrops and long scars of limestone, silver-grey in the pale November sun. The Leaview Estate, at the bottom of King Street, south-west of the town centre, had been built just after the war, and was starting to show it a little around the edges. Nonetheless, its elegant mix of Georgian semis, terraces and detached houses, built of limestone and gritstone, in harmony with much of the rest of Eastvale, was still one of the most desirable middle-class residential areas in town. All the streets were named after flowers, and Dayle Snider lived on Laburnum Close. The neighbourhood was certainly posh enough that it was attractive to burglars, but the police patrolled regularly and discreetly, and didn’t consign it to the same rubbish heap as they had the East Side Estate on the other side of town, where PCSOs often feared to tread, and crime reduction teams spent their time telling parents how to lock their doors properly while their children were out burgling houses down the street.

‘I suppose you’d like some tea?’ Dayle asked.

‘That would be nice,’ said Annie.

Winsome nodded. ‘Me, too, please.’

Dayle made a show of reluctantly filling the kettle and plugging it in, then emptying the teapot and searching for another teabag. Yorkshire Gold, Annie noticed. Her favourite. Dayle leaned against the counter while the kettle came to a boil. The tracksuit flattered her figure, Annie thought, showing her firm thighs and flat stomach to advantage. It made her realise that she needed to step up her exercise regime herself, if she hoped to get beyond all the aches and pains of her residual injuries, and lose those few pounds she had gained over the past year or so. It was matter of striking a balance between rest and exercise, and she hadn’t quite got it right yet.

While the tea was brewing, Dayle got down three bright yellow mugs from the cupboard over the counter area and set them in a row, a little jug of milk and bowl of sugar next to them.

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