Common Murder: The Second Lindsay Gordon Mystery
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Lindsay Gordon investigates an alleged assault at a women's peace encampment north of London.
the siting of US cruise missiles there. They had been so fired by anger and enthusiasm at the end of their three-week march that they decided to set up a peace camp as a permanent protest against the nuclear colonization of their green unpleasant land. Thinking back to that early summer afternoon, Lindsay found it hard to remember what she’d expected. What she had found was enough to shatter her expectations beyond recall. They had turned off the main road on to a leafy country lane. After about
Turning back to Lindsay he added. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. My mother is too tired to deal with more questioning.” He looked expectantly at his mother. The conditioned reflex built up over the years of marriage to Rupert Crabtree came into play. Simon had come into his inheritance in more ways than one. “Yes,” she said, “I think I’ve told you all I can, Miss Gordon. If you don’t mind.” Lindsay got to her feet. “I’d like to have a few words with your daughter, Mrs. Crabtree.
opened the van door. The smell that greeted her transported her back into the past. “Bacon ribs and beans,” she breathed. Deborah looked up with a smile. “I got Judith to whizz me round Sainsbury’s this morning. Cooking your favorite tea’s about all I can do to thank you for all you’ve done.” “Wonderful,” said Lindsay, “I’m starving. Is it ready now?” Deborah stirred the pot and tried a bean for tenderness. “Not quite. About fifteen minutes.” “Good, just long enough for you to tell me your
quite shrewd enough to realize that dumping it in Lindsay’s lap was guaranteed to provide it with the most fertile ground possible. “You look like the cat that’s had the cream,” Lindsay remarked. “Sorry, terribly unprofessional of me. We solicitors are not supposed to show any emotion about anything, you know. But this is such a wonderful tale of dirty linen washing itself in public, I can’t be all cool and collected about it. A wonderful piece of gossip and the best of it is that it’s
self-defense. So he starts carrying the gun, biding his time till he gets me alone. Think on that one, Lin. Now, we’re here. Let’s go eat.” And so saying, she jumped out of the car. Lindsay caught up with her on the cobbled road outside the restaurant which occupied the ground floor of a narrow, three-story brick building in a dimly lit side street near the trendy Camden Lock complex of boutiques, restaurants, and market stalls. It stood between a typesetting company and a warehouse. A red Ford