9
There was a new smell in the room, the smell of heavy rain having fallen in the night. Helen had slept with her window ajar and shutters open, and when she first opened her eyes she saw a cloudy sky. The smell of wet grass was strong when she opened up the window, and her little balcony was damp. It looked like the rolls of thunder that she taken for a dream had been real.
She lay thinking for a while. This time last week she had arrived on a ferry for a quiet working holiday. Since then, someone Martin knew had been murdered and he seemed to be working with the police.
Moreover, she still hadn’t the faintest clue about her new novel. Her most recent one, the fifth in the series, had met with real success and the launch process had been exhausting. She was now financially secure for t
