Playing with Fire: A Novel of Suspense by Peter Robinson
By Peter Robinson
hearth. It violently destroys futures and pasts in a terrified heartbeat, devouring damning secrets and techniques whereas leaving even larger mysteries in its foul wake of ash and particles.
The evening sky is ablaze as fireplace engulfs barges moored finish to finish on a Yorkshire canal. On board are the blackened continues to be of 2 people. One was once a reclusive and whimsical neighborhood artist, the opposite a junkie, a tragic and broken younger lady.
To the professional eye of Inspector Alan Banks, this horror used to be no coincidence, its procedure so merciless and calculated that basically the worst kind of fiend can have devoted the darkish act. And it is not lengthy sooner than the fears of Banks and D.I. Annie Cabbot are brutally proven, while one other suspicious blaze incinerates a distant trailer within the geographical region . . . and one other solitary existence is gruesomely fed on.
yet is it the paintings of a serial arsonist, or an ingeniously conceived plot to obliterate the path to different heinous crimes? There are surprising secrets and techniques to be exposed within the charred wreckage, grim proof of deadly greed and twisted starvation, and of nightmare occurrences in the inner most confines of family members. A bad suspicion killer's paintings isn't really but performed drives Alan Banks because the hunt intensifies for an elusive, cold-blooded chameleon who might be a person and anyplace.
In fiddling with hearth, award-winning, the world over bestselling writer Peter Robinson grants a contemporary masterwork of suspense that confirms his status as one of many brightest literary lighting in crime fiction -- a blistering story of homicide and betrayal that's as scary, devastating, and hypnotic as flame itself.
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Extra resources for Playing with Fire: A Novel of Suspense
Even in grief. ” “La-di-da,” said Banks. Adel was a wealthy north Leeds suburb with a ﬁne Norman church and a lot of green. Mark noticed Banks’s surprise. “He’s a doctor,” he said. ” “Uh-huh. That’s how she ﬁrst got addicted. She used to nick morphine from his surgery when he’d . . you know. It helped her get over the shame and the pain. ” “Yes. To try to take Tina back. ” Mark probably weighed no more than eight or nine stone, but he looked wiry and strong. People like him often made deceptively tough scrappers, Banks knew, because he’d been like that himself at Mark’s age.
In his early forties, tall and skinny, with thinning, dry brown hair, he was wearing jeans and a red zippered sweatshirt. “Ah, I’ve been expecting you,” he said when Banks and Annie showed their warrant cards, his pale gray eyes lingering on Annie for just a beat too long. ” “That’s right,” said Banks. ” “No, not at all. Your timing is immaculate. ” He stood aside and let Banks and Annie pass. “First on the left. ” They gave him their overcoats and walked into a room lined with wooden shelves. On the shelves were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of long-playing records, 45-rpm singles and EPs, all in neat rows.
Annie thought of Banks. He was a nice bloke, but she had split up with him. Maybe she should have hung on to him instead. He had another girlfriend now, she knew, even though he didn’t like to talk about her. Annie was surprised at the ﬂash of jealousy she felt whenever she knew he was going away for the weekend. Was she younger than Annie? Prettier? Better in bed? Or just less difﬁcult? Well, she had her reasons for doing what she did, she told herself, so let it be. “He’d ﬂirt a bit and we’d chat,” Mandy went on.