Downstairs there was a minor commotion at the reception desk. Two young women in regulation club gear— satin T-shirts, plastic miniskirts, and platform shoes—were giving the sergeant on duty a hard time. Screaming obscenities at him, to be more precise. From what he was able to gather, as he limped toward the door, their dates were being detained somewhere for disorderly conduct, the lot of them high on the latest designer drug by the sound of it. Nothing but grief, he thought again.
Powell stepped out into the drizzle and hailed a cab.
“Where to, guv?”
“The K2 Tandoori in Charlotte Street.”
The cab sped off, tires swishing, down the rain-slicked street.
EPILOGUE
It was a little more than a week later when Powell learned that Linda Porter had been apprehended in Australia. Fought like a bloody badger, according to Sergeant Black, who had spoken with the arresting officer. After the incident at the mine, she had apparently come to the conclusion that Rowlands was a lost cause and had managed to skip the country before they'd got the word out on her. The day after she arrived back in England to begin her glacial progression through the criminal justice system, Powell received a phone call from Dr. Harris informing him that Roger Trevenney had passed away.
On the domestic front, the Powell household had returned to its usual state of chaos, which Powell found oddly comforting for a change. He was still taking a course of physiotherapy for stretched ligaments in his knee and had even managed to persuade Marion to consider another destination besides Cornwall for their family holiday that summer.
Powell had more or less put the Penrick business behind him (although he occasionally wondered how Jane Goode was getting on) when, a few months later, he received a large, flat package from Roger Trevenney's solicitor. There was a small envelope attached with cello-tape to the brown paper wrapping. He looked at the package for a considerable length of time and then got up and closed the door to his office. He carefully removed the envelope and opened it, finding a small piece of note-paper inside. Erskine, I wanted you to have this. Roger.
He didn't remember removing the wrapping paper, only staring in wonder at the painting lying on his desk. A girl in a white dress, spring flowers, and the immutable sea. He sat down, lit a cigarette, and exhaled a cloud of smoke that settled slowly over the image like a Cornish mist.
An Ivy Book
Published by The Ballantine Publishing Group
Copyright © 1998 by Gordon Kosakoski
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by The Ballantine Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York, and distributed in Canada by Random House of Canada Limited, Toronto.
http://www.randomhouse.com
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 97-95353
eISBN: 978-0-307-55771-1
v3.0
Table of Contents
Cover
Other Books By This Author
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Copyright
Malice in Cornwall Page 19