"Quintin, Jardine - Autographs in the Rain" - читать интересную книгу автора (Quintin Jardine)

He opened the car door. 'Let's bring some company into his life then.'

She smiled as she stepped out, and led him up the garden path. Glancing


around, Sammy noticed that the rose bushes in front of the house had gone
to briar and that the beds in which they were planted were overdue for
weeding. 'Old Uncle John's no gardener, from the look of it,' he muttered
under his breath.

Although the short winter evening was almost over, no lights showed at
the front door of the house, as Ruth pressed the doorbell. They waited, for
almost a minute; eventually, Sammy patted her on the shoulder. 'You did
call to tell him we were coming, didn't you?' he asked.

She looked up at him awkwardly. 'Well, no, I didn't. I wanted to give
him a surprise.'

'Great! In that case, the old boy's probably still at the golf club.'
'No. He always listens to a football match on the radio on a Saturday
afternoon.'

'Ring the bell again, in that case. He's probably got the sound turned
up.'

'Sammy, he's not in.' She stepped across to the uncurtained living
room window and peered in. 'I can see his hi-fi set and it isn't switched
on.'

'Maybe he's got another radio in the kitchen. Let's take a look round the
back.'

As she looked at him, the first pang of fear shot through her. 'Okay,' she
murmured, following him as he set off down the path which ran around the
house. The small back garden lay to the east; the dusk, and the tall conifers
which enclosed it on three sides, made it even gloomier than the front.
There was no light in any of the three windows to the rear, the kitchen, the
second bedroom or the frosted pane of the bathroom.

'Does your uncle see all right?' Pye asked. 'I mean would he normally
have the light on at this time of day?'

'Uncle John's always reading something or other. He wears glasses now,
but his sight's always been fine. Sammy, let's go up to the golf club; the old
so-and-so's probably there, right enough.'

He held up a hand. 'In a minute. First of all . . .' He reached out and
turned the handle of the back door; it swung open, into the kitchen.