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1 New York Times bestselling author Elizabeth George's award-winning and bestselling Inspector Lynley series--fondly remembered also as a joint BBC and PBS television series--returns with another character-driven crime drama featuring beloved characters Barbara Havers and Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley.
- AutorElizabeth George
- VerlagPenguin LCC US
- Seiten784 Seiten
- Gewicht365 g
- LeseprobeTHIRTY-NINE MONTHS BEFORE
Since it was only to be a weekend jaunt to Marrakesh, Lily Foster reckoned they could use one suitcase, and a carry-on at that. What did they need to take, really? It had been deadly cold, grey, and wet in London since the middle of November, but it wasn't going to be that way in North Africa. They would spend most of their time lounging round the pool, anyway, and when they weren't doing that, they'd be getting romantic in their room, for which, obviously, they needed no clothes at all.
Packing took less than ten minutes. Sandals, summer trousers, a tee-shirt for William. Sandals, a clingy frock, and a scarf for her. Swimming suits for them both and a few other essentials. That was it. Then began the wait, which-confirmed by a glance at the plastic wall clock ticking away above the cooker-should have been less than thirty minutes. But it stretched instead into more than two hours during which time she texted him and she phoned him as well, only to receive no response. Just his pleasant voice saying "This is Will. Tell me and I'll tell you back," to which she said, "Where are you, William? I thought the job was only in Shoreditch. And why're you still there in this rotten weather? Ring me soon as you get this, okay?"
Lily went to the window. The afternoon was spitting rain outside, the sky dark and angry with erupting clouds. In the best of weather, this particular housing estate was grim: a mixture of filthy brick blocks of flats tossed by the handful across a level plain, which was crisscrossed by cracked and heaving pavements that the residents ignored in favour of trudging across a dying patchwork of lawns. In weather like this, the place looked like a death trap and what was at risk of extermination was hope. They didn't belong here, and Lily knew it. It was bad for her; it was worse for William. But it was what they could afford for now, and it was where they would remain until she built her business larger than what it was and William had his own on firmer footing.
That part was tricky: William's business. He regularly argued with his clients, and people didn't like that when they were paying someone to work for them.
"You do have to take on board what people think," she kept telling him.
"People," he countered, "need to stay out of my way. I can't concentrate when they yammer at me. Why don't they get that? It's not like I don't tell them straightaway."
Well, yes, right, Lily thought. Telling people was part of the problem. William needed to stop doing that.
Lily frowned down at the street
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