"Crombie, Deborah - A Share in Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Crombie Deborah)

He drove slowly, elbow out the Midget's open window,
breathing in the spicy scent of the hedgerows and watching
for some indication that he was on the right track. The lane
wound past occasional farms, squarely and sturdily built in
gray, Yorkshire slate, and above them the moor stretched
ringers of woodland enticingly down into the pastures. Crisp
nights must have preceded this blaze of Indian summer, as
the trees were already turning, the copper and gold interspersed
with an occasional splash of green. In the distance,
above the patchwork of field and pasture and low moorland,
the ground rose steeply away to a high bank.

Rounding a curve, Kincaid found himself at the head of
a picture-book village. Stone cottages hugged the lane, and
pots and planters filled with geraniums and petunias trailed
cascades of color into the road. On his right, a massive
stone half-circle bore the legend "Woolseyunder-Bank."
The high rise of land, now seeming to hang over the village,
must be Sutton Bank.

A few yards further on his left, a gap in the high hedge
revealed a stone gate-post inset with a brass plaque. The
inscription read "Followdale," and beneath it was engraved
a curving, full-blown rose. Kincaid whistled under his breath.
Very posh indeed, he thought as he turned the car into the
narrow gateway and stopped on the gravel forecourt. He
surveyed the house and grounds spread before him with
surprise and pleasure. He didn't quite know what he had
expected of an English timeshare. Transplanted Costa
del Sol, perhaps, or tacky Victorian. Not this Georgian
house, certainly--elegant and imposing in its simplicity,
honey-gilded in the late-afternoon light. A tangle of ivy
softened portions of the ground-floor walls, and bright
Virginia creeper splashed the upper part of the house like
a scarlet stain.

4 deborah crombie


Closer inspection revealed his initial impression of the
house to be deceptive--it was not truly symmetrical.
Although a wing extended either side of the pediment-
crowned entry, the left side of the house was larger and
jutted out into the forecourt. He found the illusion of
balance more pleasing, not as severe and demanding as
the real thing.


Kincaid stretched and unfolded himself from his battered