Cold Light of Day

Cold Light of Day
Emma Page

A Kesley and Lambert novel.The sun has risen but successful young stockbroker Gavin Elliot is still in bed.He lies on his side, his pyjama top hitched up to reveal his back- and a knife sticking out from between his shoulder-blades…

COPYRIGHT (#ulink_d6557889-0850-54be-ac24-58ebe0ef1d0d)

Harper An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)

First published in Great Britain in 1984 by Collins Crime

Copyright © Emma Page 1984

Emma Page asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.

Source ISBN: 9780008175863

Ebook Edition © MARCH 2016 ISBN: 9780008175870

Version [2016-02-18]

CONTENTS

Cover (#u2b501460-1c1f-5e90-8f1b-0b9ed55bd096)

Title Page (#u100e16a3-ec05-5389-90ba-e986a313abca)

Copyright (#ulink_0ee557d7-924e-51b4-a9b3-6213e704c697)

Chapter 1 (#ulink_f6b08402-405e-5cc9-b0d5-54524a88f766)

Chapter 2 (#ulink_ed903cc2-8b2f-5fb4-8e37-49232e7b1df0)

Chapter 3 (#ulink_01212961-d4bb-5947-9d7e-7bbd4061af5c)

Chapter 4 (#ulink_d212578c-d90f-5f91-a67f-b4159eb07f84)

Chapter 5 (#ulink_b54f7109-039e-5f9b-bb43-218fc2040870)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

By Emma Page (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER 1 (#ulink_eb6c4bd7-3573-54f4-8fcb-44a6ec6fb3f5)

The wind had veered in the night and blew now soft and warm from the south. In the garden of Manor Cottage, three-quarters of a mile from the village of Littlebourne, the snowdrops were out; fat spears of daffodils were pushing up under the ancient apple trees.

The garden was large and rambling and had stood neglected for some years before the Pictons bought the property eighteen months ago. The garden was enclosed on three sides by an old wall of rose-red brick, mantled with ivy. Here and there a self-sown tree had sprung up in the shelter of the walls and stood now strong and established. The Pictons’ daughter, Emily, their only child, climbed the trees summer and winter, made her dens among the branches, perched up there unseen, watching folk walk by along the road to Littlebourne, or a car going past in the other direction to Cannonbridge, five miles to the south-west.

In the cottage kitchen, cosy from the heat of the old solid-fuel stove, restored now and refurbished, the Pictons were finishing breakfast. All three of them wore Fair Isle jerseys painstakingly hand-knitted by Mrs Picton.

Emily sat opposite her father. She was nine years old, short and sturdily built, with a bright darting eye and a look of lively curiosity. She finished her porridge and began to fold her table napkin.

‘Is that all you’re going to eat?’ Leonard Picton said with reproof.

‘I have to be at school early.’ She assumed an air of importance. ‘I have to give out paper for the geography test.’

Leonard glanced at the clock. ‘You’ve plenty of time. Finish your breakfast properly.’ Emily unfolded her napkin again and cut herself a slice from a densely-textured wholemeal loaf; she spread it with butter and honey.