tailieunhanh - Blue Genes

Chapter 1 The day Richard's death announcement appeared in the Manchester Evening Chronicle, I knew I couldn't postpone clearing up the mess any longer. But there was something I had to do first. I stood in the doorway of the living room of the man who'd been my lover for three years, Polaroid in hand, surveying the chaos. | Blue Genes Val McDermid Blue Genes Author Vai McDermid Category Thriller Website http Date 15-October-2012 Page 1 157 http Blue Genes Val McDermid Chapter 1 The day Richard s death announcement appeared in the Manchester Evening Chronicle I knew I couldn t postpone clearing up the mess any longer. But there was something I had to do first. I stood in the doorway of the living room of the man who d been my lover for three years Polaroid in hand surveying the chaos. Slowly I swept the camera lens around the room carefully record not ing every detail of the shambles section by section. This was one time I wasn t prepared to rely on memory. Richard might be gone but that didn t mean I was going to take any unnecessary risks. Private eyes who do that seldom make it to membership in the Gray Panthers. Once I had a complete chronicle of exactly how things had been left in the room that was a mirror image of my own bungalow next door I started my mammoth task. First I sorted things into piles books magazines CDs tapes promo videos the detritus of a rock journalist s life. Then I arranged them. Books alphabetically on the shelf unit. CDs ditto. The tapes I stacked in the storage unit Richard had bought for the purpose one Sunday when I d managed to drag him round Ikea the 19905 equivalent of buying an engagement ring. I d even put the cabinet together for him but he d never got into the habit of using it preferring the haphazard stacks and heaps strewn all over the floor. I buried the surge of emotion that came with the memory and carried on doggedly. The maga not zines I stacked out of sight in the conservatory that runs along the back of both our houses linking them together more firmly than we d ever been prepared to do in any formal sense with our lives. I leaned against the wall and looked around the room. When people say It s a dirty job but somebody s got to do it how come we never really believe we ll be the ones left clutching the sticky .