Good Bad Woman. Elizabeth Woodcraft
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Название: Good Bad Woman
Автор: Elizabeth Woodcraft
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Зарубежные детективы
isbn: 9780007476961
isbn:
As I walked up the steps to the front door I looked over at my bay window, the half-drawn white blinds gleaming in the darkness. In the darkness – that was it, the window was dark. It shouldn’t have been dark, the lamp on the timer in the living room didn’t go off till one o’clock.
‘Bloody long-life bloody light bulbs,’ I muttered, juggling the bag of lemons and honey, scrabbling in my pocket for the key.
The door swung open and I stepped into the hall. I lifted my hand to press the communal timer switch and sneezed at the same time. The bag fell from my hand and lemons and honey escaped across the floor. As I picked them up in the silence I could hear the timer switch wheezing its way slowly out again. I was shoving the jar of honey back into the bag when the timer gave a final sigh and the light went out and I realised my front door was open.
Tentatively I pushed the door and slid my hand round the door frame to switch on the light in my hall. As light flooded into the living room, it was clear the room was empty. It was also completely untidy. Papers strewn on the floor, newspaper tossed on the sofa, cups knocked over on the carpet. Or was that just how I’d left it before I went out?
I went over to my table. The desk drawers were open and the papers in them looked messy. That could mean anything.
Then I saw it, in the middle of the desk, on top of my laptop: a card. It said, ‘Make love, not sausages.’
‘Saskia!’ I said. ‘Saskia?’ I walked through into the kitchen and switched on the light. ‘Saskia?’ The kitchen was empty. ‘Saskia?’ I walked back through to the bedroom and opened the door. The bed was empty.
I looked down at the card in my hand. I turned it over. On the back were the words, ‘It was too easy to get into your flat, you should do something about security,’ written in a small, tight hand as if she was anxious about what she was writing. And so she should be, breaking into people’s homes.
I walked back into the living room, wondering whether I should ring Kay, or even the police about Saskia’s visit. I immediately rejected the option of the police. Burglary of domestic premises was a serious offence. Not that it was burglary. It was Saskia. But the police might look at it differently. And I was more than happy that Saskia should come into my home at any hour of the night or day, to have a bath, help herself to a bowl of ice cream from the freezer, or even something more substantial. I just wish she’d stayed. I needed to talk to her.
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