Ten Second Staircase Read Online Free PDF

determined to make the most of it. April was far too valuable to lose. Her mother had died when she was just nine years old, and the loss had affected her in ways which still adopted new manifestations. May's family life had been tangled and messy, marred by small tragedies, filled with arguments and estrangements, in contrast to his partner's bare, ascetic existence. He wanted April's life to be simpler, and had the notion that keeping her around Arthur Bryant might be the answer. Bryant had a way of making everything seem plausible, possible, and even probable. He cut through impossibilities and protestations. He would be able to help her, if anyone could.
    'Is it usual to have a cat flap in a police station door?' asked April, studying the unassuming red-painted entrance that led to the Peculiar Crimes Unit.
    'We're not a police station,' May replied. 'Crippen has to use the outside world as a bathroom sometimes, which makes him a very Camden cat. We hide his litter tray because he's not supposed to be living here. Raymond has an allergy.'
    April knew that Raymond Land was still waiting to be transferred elsewhere, anywhere that would get him away from Arthur Bryant. It wasn't that they had nothing in common, so much as they shared things they didn't like, mainly each other. Last month, Bryant had accidentally insulted Land's wife at a Police Federation charity dinner when he had mistaken her for a toilet attendant. It seemed that no week passed without some fresh affront to Land's dignity. Worst of all, it occurred to May that his partner was secretly enjoying the feud.
    'It's not much, but we like to think of it as home,' said May, pushing the street door wide. 'Top of the stairs and turn right. Sorry, we've been meaning to get the hall bulb replaced. Arthur was demonstrating Tim Henman volleys with a coal shovel and blew the electrics.'
    The headquarters of the Peculiar Crimes Unit occupied the single floor above Mornington Crescent tube station. The detectives looked out into the grey London streets from half-moon windows set in glazed crimson tiles. The unit had become almost a local landmark; it was even being pointed out by a guide on his 'Bizarre and Dangerous London' tour, although the guide was unsure which category the unit fitted best.
    April reached the landing and looked about, touching a pile of postwar Film Fun magazines with the toe of her shoe. A sinister ventriloquist's dummy hung on the wall, just above an original poster for Gilbert & Sullivan's Ruddigore and a framed account of a 'Most Dreadful And Barbarous MURDER Committed By Ruffians!' dated April 14, 1826. 'It's less—professional—than I thought it would be. I only ever came to the office at Bow Street.'
    'I'm sorry, we don't keep a very tidy house.' May knew that his granddaughter had a compulsion for neatness; her flat reminded him of an operating theatre. 'Why don't you take the room across the corridor?'
    'This must be Janice Longbright's room.' April noted the Agent Provocateur boned corset that hung on the back of the door, the thick face-powders and ceramic-bottle cosmetics that spilled from an old Pifco hair-dryer box, circa 1955. May moved a low-cut span gled trapeze dress from a swivel chair and hid it. Lately, Sergeant Longbright's obsession with stars of the 1950s had reached epic proportions.
    'Yes, but Janice is very happy to have a guest.'
    'You want her to keep an eye on me.' April picked up a dusty bottle of 'Bowanga!' Jungle Red Nail Varnish priced 2/11d, and set it back in place. She had forgotten just how odd everyone was here.
    'To begin with. Just until you settle in.'
    'How many staff do you have now?'
    'There are eight of us if you count Raymond Land, but he's not often here. Spends most of his time creeping around to his officer pals at the Met. Now that we're under the jurisdiction of the Home Office, we're waiting for a visit from their new man. Apparently, he wants to reorganise the unit to make it more accountable