Playing with Fire by Peter Robinson Read Free Book Online

Phil had inherited a cottage in Fortford from his grandparents, though he had grown up down south, and he liked to spend time there no matter what the season. If Phil didn’t make it, Annie had planned to spend her free time getting over her cold.
    Annie got out of the car and looked around. Most of the houses in the area were occupied by students at the College of Further Education. The area had been tarted up a lot since Annie had started working in Eastvale. What had once been a stretch of marshy wasteground between the last straggling rows of houses and the squat college buildings was now a park named after an obscure African revolutionary, complete with flower beds that rivaled Harrogate’s in spring. A number of cafés and a couple of fancy restaurants had sprung up there over the past few years, too. Students weren’t as poor as they used to be, Annie guessed, especially the foreign students. Many of the old houses had been renovated, and the flats and bed-sits were quite comfortable. Like the rest of Eastvale, the college had grown, and its board knew they had to work to attract new students.
    This morning, though, in the clinging January fog, the area took on a creepy, surreal air, the tall houses looking like a Gothic effect in a horror film, rising out of the mist with their steeply pointed slate roofs and elaborate gables. Through thebare trees across the park Annie could see the lonely illuminated red sign of the Blue Moon Café and Bakery offering cheap breakfasts. For a moment, she considered going in and ordering fried eggs, mushrooms and beans on toast—skipping the sausage and bacon because she was a vegetarian—but she decided against it. She’d grab something more healthy later, back in the town center. Besides, she thought, looking up at the looming house, she had an alibi to check.
    She walked up the steps and peered at the names on the intercom box. Mandy Patterson. That was the person she wanted. She pressed the bell. It seemed to take forever, but eventually a sleepy voice answered. “Yes? Who is it?”
    Annie introduced herself.
    â€œPolice?” Mandy sounded alarmed. “Why? What is it? What do you want?”
    Annie was used to that reaction from members of the public who either felt guilty about some driving or parking offense or didn’t want to get involved. “I just want to talk to you, that’s all,” she said in as convincing a friendly voice as she could manage. “It’s about Mark.”
    â€œFirst landing, flat three, on your left.”
    Annie heard the door release click and pushed it open. Inside, the place was far less gloomy than out. The thick-piled stair carpets looked new, the hallway was clean and well kept, the interior well lit. Better than the student digs of her days, Annie thought, even though those days had been only about fifteen years ago.
    Annie climbed the steep stairs and knocked on the door to flat three. Fit as she was, she was glad Mandy didn’t live all the way at the top. The damn cold was sapping her energy, making her feel dizzy when she exerted herself. She couldn’t meditate, either. All she experienced when she sat in the lotus position and tried to concentrate on the breath coming and going as it passed the point between her eyebrows was either a stuffed-up nose or a thick, phlegmy sniffle.
    The girl who opened the door looked as if she had just been woken up, which was probably the case. She rubbed her eyes and squinted at Annie. “So you’re the police?” she said, looking at Annie’s army greatcoat, long scarf and high boots.
    â€œAfraid so.”
    Annie followed her into the room. Perhaps because Mandy had heard over the intercom that Annie was female, or perhaps because seminudity didn’t concern her, she hadn’t bothered putting anything on other than a long white T-shirt with a George and Dragon logo on the front. Annie thought it was too cold for such