Half an hour later she arrived at Robins’ place. The house, in front of which she parked, was rather small, one-storey, painted in soft pastel-sunny color. Located on a cliff, overlooking the fabulous view, the house looked like a fortress. The iron fence defended the entrance to the mown lawn. Around it was full of trees and bushes. On a small porch slept a big black cat.
But the whole of it was a charming picture of a suburban serenity.
Without further delay, Jay walked to the wicket and pushed the handle. The lock opened with a quiet creak. She walked quickly to the stairs leading to the front door. On her way she leaned involuntarily and stroked the cat, which stretched out, pleaded. Jay smiled to herself, ran lightly up the stairs, stopped in front of the solid oak door
