Read Online The Seven Stars by Anthea Fraser - Free Book Online

cream and red bedroom awaited her and Helen looked round it with pleasure. This time , she thought with satisfaction, she had personal things with which to stamp it — her travelling clock, the tortoiseshell brush and comb.
    She switched on the radio and started to unpack , laying underwear and sweaters neatly in the chest of drawers. Then she filled and plugged in the kettle and sat down in the red plush armchair to enjoy her cup of tea.
    So here she was , she thought, looking about her with satisfaction and a sense of surprise that she had so far achieved her purpose. Andrew, albeit reluctantly, had accepted her two-week absence, and with it the prospect of a more serious work commitment. Admittedly he’d seemed less keen to contemplate the state of their marriage and so, for that matter, was she. Still, two whole weeks lay ahead of her. During that time a solution might present itself, but if it hadn’t by, say, the next weekend, she would set aside time to consider the position.
    But not now. Finishing her tea , she collected an armful of books and went downstairs, opting for the privacy of the television lounge rather than the open hallway. As Stella had said, a well made-up fire burned in the grate, lighting the gloomy room. The glass door to the garden room was closed.
    Helen seated herself in an easy chair by the fire and switched on the standard lamp that stood beside it. Then , opening the first of her books, she settled down to read.
    *
    DCI Webb leaned back and surveyed the canvas in front of him. He had spent most of the previous day sketching out in the hills, warmly wrapped against the January weather. Today, in considerably more comfort, he was attempting to develop the sketch into a watercolour, though not entirely to his satisfaction. Shades of green were notoriously difficult to reproduce, and he was debating whether to wash over them and try again when the doorbell rang.
    He glanced at his watch as he went to answer it. Four o ’clock on a Sunday afternoon: Hannah, keen to regale him with details of last night’s party?
    But when he opened the door it was to find DI Ledbetter outside.
    ‘Chris! Come in. What are you doing in this neck of the woods?’
    ‘ Hello, Dave. I thought you’d like to know we’ve found the hit-and-run car.’
    ‘ That’s great — where?’
    ‘ Your Duke Street multi-storey. It’s only been there since Friday, so they must have kept it hidden for ten days.’
    ‘ Well, things should start moving now. Is it too early for a celebratory beer?’
    ‘ I’d give my soul for a cuppa.’
    ‘ You’re on.’
    Ledbetter leant against the counter while Webb filled the kettle. ‘It was stolen,’ he continued, ‘which is par for the course. Reported missing the day of the accident, from outside a house in SB.’
    Webb put a couple of mugs on the table. ‘Is it damaged?’
    ‘ Nearside headlight gone for a burton. SOCO have been working on it all afternoon.’
    ‘ Fingerprints?’
    ‘ Plastered all over it; let’s hope some of them are on file.’
    ‘ I suppose we can be glad they didn’t sit on it any longer; it could have stayed in a lock-up pretty well indefinitely.’
    ‘ I reckon they wanted shot of it. Thought if they dumped it somewhere, it couldn’t be traced back to them — or him, if it was a solo job — or even her, come to that.’
    ‘ Since the car was stolen, my bet’s on a young lad,’ Webb commented. ‘And he must have known he’d hit her — he’d have seen her at the last minute if not before. A theory was put forward that he might have stopped, seen she was dead and panicked.’ Hannah’s idea.
    ‘ But she wasn’t obviously dead, was she? The young couple who found her phoned for an ambulance.’
    ‘ True.’ Webb carried the two mugs through to the living-room, Ledbetter at his heels. ‘Think there’s a chance it wasn’t an accident?’
    ‘ Always possible, but anything deliberate would be tricky in that fog. Like, how did the