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

with the paying guests, but I don't think they would quite fit
with the corporate idea of country gentility, unless they're
thinking of re-creating an Edwardian house party. I wonder
how you're going to manage this week. Musical beds?"
The voice was male, Kincaid thought, but light and slightly
nasal, with a trace of Yorkshire vowels.

Kincaid stepped softly backwards to the front door,
opened it and slammed it forcefully, then strode briskly
across the hall and tapped on the partially open door before
peering around it.

The woman stood behind a graceful Queen Anne table
which apparently served as a reception desk, her back to
the window, hands arrested in the gesture of straightening
a stack of papers. Her companion leaned against the frame
of the opposite door, hands in his pockets, with a slightly
amused expression on his face. "Hello. Can I help you?"
the woman said, smiling at Kincaid with utter composure,
showing no sign of the fury he had so recently overheard.

"Have I got the right place?" Kincaid asked tentatively.

"If you're looking for Followdale House. I'm Cassie
Whitlake, the sales manager. And you must be Mr.
Kincaid."
He smiled at her as he stepped forward into the room
and set down his bag. "How did you guess?"

"Simple elimination, really. Sunday afternoon is our usual
check-in time, and all the other guests have either already
arrived or don't fit the particulars your cousin gave us."

"There's nothing worse than being preceded by one's
reputation. I hope it wasn't too damaging." Kincaid felt
surprisingly relieved. She hadn't addressed him by his rank.

6 deborah crombie


Maybe his cousin Jack had managed to be discreet for once,
and he could enjoy his holiday as an ordinary and anonymous
member of the British public.


"On the contrary." Her brows arched as she spoke, lending
a flirtatious air to the polite reply, and leaving Kincaid
wondering uneasily just what Jack might, after all, have
said.