By Barry Maitland
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Lieutenant Mario Conde is struggling with a poor New Year’s Eve hangover. although it’s the center of a weekend, he's requested to urgently examine the mysterious disappearance of Rafael Morin, a high-level enterprise supervisor within the Cuban nomenklatura. Conde remembered Morin from their scholar days: handsome, outstanding, a “reliable comrade’’ who constantly acquired what he sought after, together with Tamara, the lady Conde used to be after.
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Whilst Margaret Parsons disappears, Inspector Burden attempts to reassure her frantic husband that she's going to be again through morning. Privately, notwithstanding, he's convinced Margaret has run off with one other guy. yet then the lacking woman's physique is located, strangled and deserted in a close-by wooden. And whilst Mr. Parsons we could the police into his domestic, a startling discovery leads all people to question simply who Margaret Parsons rather used to be .
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Additional resources for No Trace
They seemed satisfied, nodding and turning back to their screens. The metaphor was wrong though, he thought, too gentle. He searched for something more visceral; until I have something to get my teeth into. His instinct was that the place to find it wasn’t here, for all the Mission Control paraphernalia of computer screens and headsets and data charts; it was out there, on the street. He fought to suppress his frustration, picking up the latest copy of the log and forcing himself to read. Gabriel Rudd was pacing up and down in agitation, muttering to himself.
All the same . ’ Brock was thinking of Betty Zielinski’s scream. The inspector looked thoughtful. ’ ‘Gilbey? ’ He shrugged and checked his watch. ‘Never know, he may have seen someone watching the place. ’ They shook hands and Brock said,‘You’d better give me a number I can reach you on. My sergeant, DS Kolla, will be staying around here for a while. ’ After the man had gone, Brock stood at the window for a moment contemplating the square. He felt as if he were on the stage at a public spectacle, with the mob down below and a judge in the royal box, observing his moves.
Rudd went to the kitchen area to put on some coffee. ‘I don’t understand why they had to search the house,’ he grumbled as he spooned out the powder. ‘We always do, in cases like this,’ Kathy said. ’ Or bundled up in the freezer, or beneath the floorboards, Kathy thought. There’s no place like home. ‘I just feel so helpless,’ Rudd said. ’ ‘Waiting is the worst of it,’ Brock replied. ’ At that moment there was a commotion from the floor below,a man calling out in protest, a woman’s scream drowning him out, then footsteps crashing up the wooden stairs.