Читать книгу An Accident Waiting to Happen - Vincent Banville - Страница 9

I went back out into the rain. Knitting needles of it were dancing on the pavement. At two I would have to collect Emily from the crèche. It was now twelve-thirty. Sheltering in a shop doorway, I examined the note Bertie Boyer had given me. The name on it was Polonski. The address was down in Parnell Street.

My car, a very old Renault, was once again in the garage. A taxi? A bus? I decided to walk. A guy in a plastic raincoat, carrying a large golf umbrella gave me shelter as far as Eason’s bookshop. From there on it was water, water everywhere. By the time I got to the Polonski address, I was wet through.