Playing With Fire - Softcover

Robinson, Peter

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0061031100 ISBN 13: 9780061031106

Publisher: Avon Books, 2005

Synopsis

Chief Inspector Alan Banks finds himself up against a diabolical arsonist in this electrifying novel of suspense from New York Times bestselling author Peter Robinson.

In the early hours of the morning, a man reports a fire on two old canal boats. One of the firefighters notices the use of accelerant at the scene and calls the police, but by the time Inspector Banks arrives, the fire brigade have put out the flames and only the smoldering wreckage remains. A body has been found on each barge, and all the evidence points towards a deliberate arson attack.

One of the victims is Tina, a young girl with a drug addiction and a terrible past who had been living with her boyfriend Mark. The other is Tom, an artist who had been living alone. Now, with little evidence to go on and a number of possible suspects, including Tina's boyfriend, the local 'lock-keeper' who reported the fire, and Tina's own father, Banks must begin to delve into the lives of the victims, and to discover who could have wanted them out of the way forever...

From the master of psychological suspense, Peter Robinson, comes a mind-bending thriller of secrets and murder.

About this title

From the Back Cover

Fire—It consumes futures and pasts in aterrified heartbeat, devouring damning secrets while leaving even greater mysteries in the ashes.

The night sky is ablaze as flames engulf two barges moored side by side on an otherwise empty canal. On board are the blackened remains of two human beings. To the seasoned eye, this horror was no accident, the method so cruel and calculated that only the worst sort of fiend could have committed it. There are shocking secrets to be uncovered in the charred wreckage, grim evidence of lethal greed and twisted hunger, and of nightmare occurrences within the private confines of family. A terrible feeling is driving police inspector Alan Banks in his desperate hunt for answers—an unshakable fear that this killer's work will not be done until Banks's own world is burned to the ground.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Playing with Fire

By Robinson, Peter

Avon Books

ISBN: 0061031100

Chapter One

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, burn'd on the water," Banks whispered. As he spoke, his breath formed plumes of mist in the chill January air.

Detective Inspector Annie Cabbot, standing beside him, must have heard, because she said, "You what? Come again."

"A quotation," said Banks. "From Anthony and Cleopatra."

"You don't usually go around quoting Shakespeare like a copper in a book," Annie commented.

"Just something I remember from school. It seemed appropriate."

They were standing on a canal bank close to dawn watching twobarges smolder. Not usually the sort of job for a detective chief inspectorlike Banks, especially so early on a Friday morning, but as soon as it hadbeen safe enough for the firefighters to board the barges, they had doneso and found one body on each. One of the firefighters had recentlycompleted a course on fire investigation, and he had noticed possible evidenceof accelerant use when he boarded the barge. He had called thelocal constable, who in turn had called Western Area Police Headquarters, Major Crimes, so here was Banks, quoting Shakespeare and waitingfor the fire investigation officer to arrive.

"Were you in it, then?" Annie asked.

"In what?"

"Anthony and Cleopatra."

"Good Lord, no. Third spear-carrier in Julius Caesar was the triumphof my school acting career. We did it for O-Level English, and Ihad to memorize the speech."

Banks held the lapels of his overcoat over his throat. Even with theLeeds United scarf his son Brian had bought him for his birthday, he stillfelt the chill. Annie sneezed, and Banks felt guilty for dragging her out inthe early hours. The poor lass had been battling with a cold for the lastfew days. But his sergeant, Jim Hatchley, was even worse; he had been offsick with flu most of the week.

They had just arrived at the dead-end branch of the canal, which lay three miles south of Eastvale, linking the River Swain to the Leeds-LiverpoolCanal, and hence to the whole network of waterways thatcrisscrossed the country. The canal ran through some beautiful countryside,and tonight the usually quiet rural area was floodlit and buzzingwith activity, noisy with the shouts of firefighters and the crackle of personalradios. The smell of burned wood, plastic and rubber hung in theair and scratched at the back of Banks's throat when he breathed in. Allaround the lit-up area, the darkness of a pre-dawn winter night pressedin, starless and cold. The media had already arrived, mostly TV crews,because fires made for good visuals, even after they had gone out, but thefirefighters and police officers kept them well at bay, and the scene wassecure.

As far as Banks had been able to ascertain, the branch ran straightnorth for about a hundred yards before it ended in a tangle of shrubberythat eventually became dry land. Nobody at the scene rememberedwhether it had ever led anywhere or had simply been used as a mooring,or for easier access to the local limestone for which the region wasfamous. It was possible, someone suggested, that the branch had beenstarted as a link to the center of Eastvale itself, then abandoned due tolack of funds or the steepness of the gradient.

"Christ, it's cold," moaned Annie, stamping from foot to foot. She was mostly obscured by an old army greatcoat she had thrown on overher jeans and polo-neck sweater. She was also wearing a matchingmaroon woolly hat, scarf and gloves, along with black knee-high leatherboots. Her nose was red.

"You'd better go and talk to the firefighters," Banks said. "Get theirstories while events are still fresh in their minds. You never know, maybeone of them will warm you up a bit."

"Cheeky bastard." Annie sneezed, blew her nose and wandered off,reaching in her deep pocket for her notebook. Banks watched her goand wondered again whether his suspicions were correct. It was nothingconcrete, just a slight change in her manner and appearance, but hecouldn't help feeling that she was seeing someone, and had been for thepast while. Not that it was any of his business. Annie had broken offtheir relationship ages ago, but -- he didn't like to admit this -- he wasfeeling pangs of jealousy. Stupid, really, as he had been seeing DIMichelle Hart on and off since the previous summer. But he couldn'tdeny the feeling.

The young constable, who had been talking to the leading firefighter,walked over to Banks and introduced himself: PC Smythe, from thenearest village, Molesby.

"So you're the one responsible for waking me up at this ungodlyhour in the morning," said Banks.

PC Smythe paled. "Well, sir, it seemed ... I ..."

"It's okay. You did the right thing. Can you fill me in?"

"There's not much to add, really, sir." Smythe looked tired and drawn, as well he might. He hardly seemed older than twelve, and this was probably his first major incident.

"Who called it in?" Banks asked.

"Bloke called Hurst. Andrew Hurst. Lives in the old lockkeeper's house about a mile away. He says he was just going to bed shortly afterone o'clock, and he saw the fire from his bedroom window. He knewroughly where it was coming from, so he rode over to check it out."

"Rode?"

"Bicycle, sir."

"Okay. Go on."

"That's about it. When he saw the fire, he phoned it in on his mobile, and the fire brigade arrived. They had a bit of trouble gaining access, asyou can see. They had to run long hoses."

Banks could see the fire engines parked about a hundred yards away ...

Continues...

Excerpted from Playing with Fireby Robinson, Peter Excerpted by permission.
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Edition details

• Publisher: Avon Books
• Publication date: 2005
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0061031100
• ISBN 13: 9780061031106
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• Number of pages: 417