“Moretti parked the Triumph inside the gate and walked up to the house. As he reached the front step, Gwen Ferbrache opened the door. She gave him a welcoming smile, but her face was grim. “This is good of you, Edward. Come in.” Books, books, books, that was one of his earliest childhood memories of this house. Books in bookcases, on tables, lying open on chairs. Her tiny hallway was lined with books, and there were a couple lying on the side of the stairs. “Miss Goldstein is in the ...sitting room. Go on through. I’m making tea.” Sandra Goldstein was sitting in a chair near the French window overlooking Gwen’s garden. She was rubbing her hair with a towel and she was very wet. A pair of trainers stood by the window, and her brown nail-polished feet were bare. There were patches of damp on the knees of her grey sweatpants. She looked up as Moretti came in and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry about this, but it was my only chance.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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