Read Playing with Fire for Free Online

all.”
    â€œThe area looks pretty inaccessible to me,” Banks said. “What would be the best approach?”
    â€œFrom the towpath,” Hurst said. “But the nearest bridge is east of here, so anyone who came that way would have had to pass the cottage.”
    â€œDid you see anyone that night? Anyone on the towpath heading toward the branch?”
    â€œNo, but I was watching television. I could easily have missed it if someone walked by.”
    â€œWhat would be the next-best approach?”
    Hurst frowned for a moment as he thought. “Well,” he said finally, “short of swimming across the canal, which no one in his right mind would want to do, especially at this time of year, I’d say from the lane through the woods directly to the west. There’s a lay-by, if my memory serves me well. And it’s only about a hundred yards from there to the boats, whereas it’s nearly half a mile up to where the lane meets the B-road at the top.”
    The fire engines had parked where the lane turned sharply right to follow the canal, Banks remembered, and he and Annie had parked behind them. He hoped they hadn’t obliterated any evidence that might still be there. He would ask DS Stefan Nowak and the SOCOs to examine that particular area thoroughly. “Ever see any strangers hanging around?” he asked.
    â€œIn summer, plenty, but it’s generally quiet this time of year.”
    â€œWhat about around the branch? Any strangers there?”
    â€œI live a mile away. I don’t spy on them. I sometimes saw them when I cycled by on the towpath, that’s all.”
    â€œBut you saw the fire?”
    â€œCould hardly miss it, could I?”
    â€œHow not?”
    Hurst stood up. “Follow me.” He looked at Annie and smiled. “I apologize for the mess in advance. It’s one of the advantages of the bachelor life, not having to keep everything neat and tidy.”
    Annie blew her nose. Banks was hardly surprised to hear that Hurst was a bachelor. “Except your record collection,” he said.
    Hurst turned and looked at Banks as if he were mad. “But that’s different, isn’t it?”
    Banks and Annie exchanged glances and followed him upthe narrow creaky stairs into a room on the left. He was right about the mess. Piles of clothes waiting to be washed, a tottering stack of books by the side of the unmade bed, many of them about the history of canals, but with a few cheap paperback blockbusters mixed in, Banks noticed, Tom Clancy, Frederick Forsyth, Ken Follett. The smell of unwashed socks and stale sweat permeated the air. Annie was lucky she was stuffed up with a cold, Banks thought.
    But Hurst was right. From his bedroom window, you could see clearly along the canal side, west, in the direction of the dead-end branch. It was impossible to see very far now, because of the fog, but last night had been clear until early morning. Hurst wouldn’t have been able to see the branch itself because of the trees, but Banks had no doubt at all that it would have been impossible for him to miss the flames as he went to draw the curtains at bedtime.
    â€œWhat were you wearing?” Banks asked.
    â€œWearing?”
    â€œYes. Your clothes. When you cycled out to the fire.”
    â€œOh, I see. Jeans, shirt and a thick woolly jumper. And an anorak.”
    â€œAre those the jeans you’re wearing now?”
    â€œNo. I changed.”
    â€œWhere are they?”
    â€œMy clothes?”
    â€œYes, Mr. Hurst. We’ll need them for testing.”
    â€œBut surely you can’t think…?”
    â€œThe clothes?”
    â€œI had to wash them,” said Hurst. “They smelled so bad, with the smoke and all.”
    Banks looked again at the pile of laundry waiting to be washed, then he looked back at Hurst. “You’re telling me you’ve already washed the clothes you were wearing last night?”
    â€œWell,