Download Cold is the Grave (Chief Inspector Banks, Book 11) by Peter Robinson PDF

By Peter Robinson

Past due one evening, leader Inspector Alan Banks is summoned to the house of leader Constable Riddle. Riddle's sixteen-year-old daughter, Emily, has run away, and for as soon as the executive constable is calling Banks to hire his unorthodox easy methods to locate her. Banks tracks her down in London yet discovers that she doesn't are looking to be came upon. She resides with gangster Barry Clough and insists that she is worked up in her new lifestyles. Later, whilst she exhibits up at Banks's resort soliciting for support, he's drawn deeper and deeper into the younger girl's existence. Banks reveals himself stuck in a fancy net of substances and homicide, police and politics, and fathers and daughters.

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Additional info for Cold is the Grave (Chief Inspector Banks, Book 11)

Sample text

I wouldn't like a ride in his taxi. You'd know him by his hair, I reckon. It grows nearly down to his eyebrows. Rum-looking cove. ' 'I don't want him,' I said. ' He beamed at me. 'There's another one I see sometimes, too. ' 'Thanks a lot,' I said. I gave him a pound note and his beam grew wider. He tucked it into an inside pocket. 'Best of luck, sir,' he said. I left him, with 'Midday Special' ringing in my ears, and went in to the weighing room, pondering on the information that my captors with the horse-box came from Brighton.

It grows nearly down to his eyebrows. Rum-looking cove. ' 'I don't want him,' I said. ' He beamed at me. 'There's another one I see sometimes, too. ' 'Thanks a lot,' I said. I gave him a pound note and his beam grew wider. He tucked it into an inside pocket. 'Best of luck, sir,' he said. I left him, with 'Midday Special' ringing in my ears, and went in to the weighing room, pondering on the information that my captors with the horse-box came from Brighton. Whoever had sent them could not have imagined that I had seen them before, and could find them again.

But the thorough driver had seen to it that I should not. The car would not start. Opening the bonnet to see how much damage had been done, I found that three of the four sparking plugs had been taken out. They lay in a neat row on the battery. It took me ten minutes to replace them, because my hands were trembling. By then I had no hope of catching the horse-box or of finding anyone who had noticed its direction. I got back into the car and fastened the neck of my shirt. My tie was missing altogether.

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