“The summer lights were still strung between the Victorian lampposts, but they had been turned off and now swung in uneven loops like a tawdry necklace which might scatter its blackened beads at the first strong wind. The season was officially over. Dalgliesh drew up behind the police Rover on the left-hand side of the promenade. Between the road and the glittering sea was a children’s playground, wire-enclosed, the gate padlocked, the shuttered kiosk pasted with fading and half-torn posters of ...summer shows, bizarrely shaped ice creams, a clown’s head. The swings had been looped high, and one of the metal seats, caught by the strengthening breeze, rapped out a regular tattoo against the iron frame. The hotel stood out from its drabber neighbours, sprucely painted in a bright blue which even the dull street lighting could hardly soften. The porch light shone down on a large card with the words “Under new management. Bill and Joy Carter welcome you to Balmoral.” A separate card underneath said simply “Vacancies.”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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