The Blood Pit Read Online Free PDF

white-sailed yachts were skimming like toys
     over the smooth water and a tiny container ship trundled across the horizon. After a few minutes they reached civilisation
     in the shape of a postcard-pretty village, with pastel cottages and a narrow main street more suited to the horse than the
     motor vehicle. Wesley’s eye was caught by a fountain of bright flowers tumbling from the balcony of a handsome whitewashed
     pub. Rhode was the sort of place visitors came to Devon to see. But nowhere is immune to violent death.
    Wesley wondered whether to mention Neil’s strange letter to his boss but he decided to wait until he’d actually seen it. It
     was probably a coincidence, but the letter’s mention of blood, just as Marrick’s body was found, made him uneasy.
    Foxglove House stood at the end of the lane that ran by the thirteenth-century village church, crooked to accommodate the
     contours of the ancient churchyard.
    ‘I’m surprised Mrs Marrick wanted to stay here,’ Wesley said as they rounded the bend in the drive and the house came into
     sight.
    ‘So am I, Wes, but apparently she insisted. If my living room looked as if I’d hired Count Dracula as the interior decorator,
     I’d be miles away.’
    A patrol car was parked outside and the entrance was festooned with crime scene tape. Wesley climbed out of the driver’s seat
     and followed Gerry Heffernan who was marching with determination towards the house.
    DC Trish Walton answered the door, standing almost toattention as they passed. Wesley wondered how much she knew about Steve’s suspension. Steve and the sensible, if plodding, Trish
     used to be an item … before Trish came to her senses, as Heffernan put it. However, Wesley sensed that there was still a slight
     spark of attraction between Trish and Steve, even though it had never exactly been a relationship made in heaven. Now Trish
     shared a house with Rachel Tracey who would probably keep her on the straight and narrow as far as Steve was concerned. But
     Trish and Steve were opposites … and sometimes opposites can be drawn to each other against all the odds: look at magnets.
    ‘How is she?’ was Wesley’s first question.
    ‘The doctor gave her something to help her sleep and she seems fine this morning,’ Trish replied, sounding rather puzzled.
     ‘She’s more worried about how the decorators are going to get rid of the bloodstains.’ She shuddered. ‘She’s even started
     ringing up specialist cleaners.’
    ‘Already?’ Heffernan frowned. He’d come across a good few widows in the course of his career but this was the first one who
     didn’t even wait till her husband’s body was cold before removing all trace of him.
    ‘Where is she now?’ Wesley asked.
    ‘In the kitchen having coffee. Her daughter arrived last night. Petronella her name is. She’s in there with her.’ Trish hesitated. ‘It’s
     all a bit odd if you ask me. The daughter doesn’t seem in the least bit bothered. Mind you, he was only her stepfather – and,
     reading between the lines, I don’t think they got on.’ She leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘Apparently Annette Marrick
     had her when she was sixteen and abandoned her in the hospital. Petronella was adopted and she only traced her biological
     mother a couple of years ago. Annette’s been married twice since she had Petronella but there’re no other children. She was
     fourteen years older than Charles Marrick.’ Trish raised her eyebrows and Wesley wasn’t quite sure what he was expected to
     say.
    But Gerry Heffernan stepped into the breach. ‘So he was what is commonly known as a toy boy. Maybe he had a younger model waiting
     in the wings. Do you see this as a crime of passion, Wes? Older woman marries younger man. He gets fed up with her and takes
     up with someone else. She loses control and stabs him in the neck. I know she claims to have an alibi and we’ve found no blood-stained
     clothing yet, but it’s possible, don’t