Blood Will Out by Jill Downie Read Free Book Online Page A

archway of the traditional Guernsey cottage, with a window on each side and three above. From time to time, Moretti cut the rose back, but the fuchsia, honeysuckle and ivy on the old walls on each side of the property he left alone.
    He turned the Triumph around in the cobbled courtyard and exited between the stone pillars of what had once been a gateway, and was now just a gap in the old walls, and made his way down the Grange, the road that led into the town past the old Regency and Victorian homes that had been built on the wealth acquired from privateering and smuggling. Some were divided into flats, one or two were hotels, and some were now in the hands of the new privateers, brought to the island by the billions created by the offshore business.
    As he turned into the quadrangle outside the police station, he saw his partner, Liz Falla, getting out of a pretty little Figaro from the driver’s side. Looked like Falla had transformed her Poirets and Delaunays and vintage feather boas into a pale aqua chariot. Not practical, perhaps, but who was he to criticize.
    â€œNice. Hope it doesn’t turn back into a Paris-designed pumpkin at midnight!” Moretti called out of his car window.
    â€œHasn’t so far. Hi, Guv. Hope all went well in London with the spooks.”
    Moretti watched Detective Sergeant Liz Falla walking towards him in her neat, conservative, dark blue suit, a white shirt open at the neck, her short dark hair feathered around a face once described to him as “Audrey Hepburnish,” and smiled. He was remembering the first time he saw her, when he had wondered what on earth Chief Officer Hanley was playing at, partnering him with this inexperienced young woman with her easy, outgoing manner, so unlike his own approach to his profession. And to life in general, come to that.
    â€œAs well as could be expected — but I’m not allowed to tell you anything, of course.”
    â€œOf course.”
    Her grin showed the tiny gap between her two front teeth that made her look to his eyes even younger than she was. But, as she had shown on their two earlier cases, her intelligence and her perception outstripped her years and, whatever Hanley had been playing at, the partnership had worked out. He could only hope being saddled with Aloisio Brown was as smart a move by Hanley, because there were others who could have taken on the role quite as well.
    As if she had read his mind, Falla said, “I hear you’re babysitting some APSG brainiac. Right, Guv?” He could hear the laughter in her voice above the sound of her heels click-clacking on the stones.
    â€œWatch it, Falla. I was one of those, once. You haven’t met him yet?”
    â€œHe’s arriving this morning. I hope that gives me time to fill you in on a couple of things.”
    â€œThe death of the hermit? I saw the report in the paper this morning. Suicide, wasn’t it?”
    â€œThat’s what it looks like. Dr. Edwards says she’ll get a report to us today.”
    â€œShe?”
    Moretti stood back and let Falla go through the doors first, and she grinned at him, as she always did at his gesture. “Would you rather I didn’t?” he had once asked her, defensively, and her reply, “No. I quite like it, but don’t tell anyone,” had amused him, defusing the moment and turning it into a shared joke.
    â€œYes. Irene Edwards, just joined the staff at Princess Elizabeth Hospital. She was on duty when the call came in. Seemed to know what she was doing. I liked her.”
    â€œGood. A couple of things, you said? A rash of burglaries? An outbreak of graffiti? Someone important with ruffled feathers?”
    Liz waited until they had signed in at the desk, and Moretti had exchanged a few words with the desk sergeant about his new Centaur. As they moved away she said, “Got it in three, Guv. Ruffled feathers.”
    Moretti groaned. “What now? Some constable not tugging