Death in Leamington Read Online Free

intently; he seemed genuine, although it was a pretty lame excuse. From the odours emanating from his sports bag, his tennis kit certainly seemed like it could do with a wash and he knew that I could check on him later if I wanted to. At least Hugh, a champion of justice in my mind, would be a reliable witness if I bothered to ask him.
    As soon as I had dished out their food, I left Eddie in charge of Carrie (knowing that I would probably regret this later) and quickly pulled on my running gear. I had just enough time while it was still light. I told him I would eat later and asked him to get Carrie ready for bed.
    As I climbed the steps up from the basement flat to street level I pinched myself again to feel how incredibly lucky I was to live here. Because of its largely intact character, the eastern side of the square directly opposite our flat is frequently used as an historical film set, most recently to replicate Belgravia for a BBC production of
Sherlock Holmes
. The film crew were busy packing up for the day with large vehicles blocking the road, so I decided to avoid them and head south down towards the river, one of my regular circuits. As I left the house I shouted ‘Hello’ to Dottie, the lady who often visits the university professor in the corner house. She was emerging from a taxi with her bags. I like her, she is the one who had encouraged me to enter a half-marathon for a children’s charity later in the year. She is one of those practical, Christian women who has unlimited wells of kindness to share with others, self-sacrificing, a sister of Charity, and who unlike me already possesses a certainty and all that is necessary for salvation.
    I jogged down past the fire station and then turned left into Dormer Place just before I got to the bridge at the bottom of the hill. From there I ran past the Catholic church and then diagonally across the Pump Room Gardens, over the main river bridge, past the Post Office and then left into Priory Terrace. I continued past the entrance to the elephant wash and on to Mill Road Park. There I turned back north over the river, watching the water cascading over the weir as I crossed it and shortly arrived at the new Aviary building, where I took a breather. I do love what they have done with it, its mix of glass and steel and exotic planting bringing a small taste of the thrill of the jungle into our suburban lives.
    It was one of my New Year’s resolutions to get fit and as usual I had overdone it – cycling, jogging
and
yoga. This was all part of my training for the half-marathon. I was probably in the best condition of my life, maybe not quite Paula Radcliffe, but I could kick ass and take names with the best of them. I had been gathering sponsors and had the target to collect £1000 to help the starving children in Africa. Eddie’s view on that had not impressed me. ‘What’s the point?’ he asked. ‘It’s a drop in the ocean, and we’ve got enough problems back home.’ Although I clearly disagreed, it was not worth a fight with him. In any case it was my business, not his.
    I continued on along the riverbank and passed the spot where we had gone swimming together as a family in the mini heat wave of the last bank holiday weekend; secret swimming, wild swimming, bathing in the deep pool made downstream by the weir, where they used to wash the circus elephants all those years ago.
    I felt powerful and strong, fully in my stride. I continued into the main part of Jephson Gardens, up to the Corinthian temple that honoured Dr Henry Jephson; past the obelisk to Edward Willes, the Hitchman fountain, the Davis clock tower, the statue of the three elephants and a boy and, most poignant of all, the Czech war memorial dedicated to the seven parachutists who successfully assassinated SS General Reinhard Heydrich after being dropped by the RAF. On these evening runs, these landmarks were no longer just lonely monuments to forgotten history but newly familiar way marks, each