Police Procedurals

A Trick of the Light by David Ashton

By David Ashton

The 3rd in David Ashton's sequence of McLevy thrillers, A Trick of the sunshine sees McLevy crew up with Arthur Conan Doyle to pursue a ruthless killer. it's 1860 and a accomplice officer, Jonathen Sinclair, arrives in Edinburgh with a sheaf of cash to buy a blockade-runner from Clydeside shipbuilders. he's betrayed to the Union forces and is shot useless through their mystery brokers. who're they and the place is Sinclair's cash? in the meantime, a gorgeous younger American spiritualist, Sophia Adler, is the toast of upper-class Edinburgh together with her dramatic seances. despite the fact that, she may perhaps but end up to be the deadliest lady McLevy and Conan Doyle will ever come upon.

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A Trick of the Light

The 3rd in David Ashton's sequence of McLevy thrillers, A Trick of the sunshine sees McLevy crew up with Arthur Conan Doyle to pursue a ruthless killer. it's 1860 and a accomplice officer, Jonathen Sinclair, arrives in Edinburgh with a sheaf of cash to buy a blockade-runner from Clydeside shipbuilders.

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But of course I know your history,’ she murmured as she prepared to rise. ‘For you everything must be a fight. You dragged yourself from the gutter, and the habit remains. To provoke, antagonise. From the gutter. ’ ‘You’d best depart,’ said Jean. ’ The Countess stood, fished in her handbag to find a small purse from which she extracted some coins and then laid them carefully on the table. ‘For your trouble,’ she remarked. Then she waited for a moment, gazing thoughtfully down at the seated woman.

I caught Ballantyne in the act of gazing wilfully into his own personal likeness,’ he vindicated, nevertheless. ‘I gathered that,’ was the terse response. ’ ‘It’s all the rage,’ said McLevy, annoyingly. ’ ‘It is superstitious drivel,’ Roach retorted, but was aware of the ground underneath his feet shifting as ’twere in a sandy bunker at the mention of his wife who was, in truth, intent upon dragging him shortly to some society cabal on the subject. For some reason arguing with his inspector often had this effect; the man instinctively perceived a weak point and then poked it with a sharp stick.

JAMES THOMSON, ‘In the Room’ Leith Docks, Edinburgh, 1864 The man had been running for his life. A shaft of light from one of the creaking ships moored in the harbour caught his face like a lover’s hand and tilted it to the side as he came to a juddering halt in one of the narrow wynds; the stone passages that spread like broken veins from the main artery of the Old Docks. Breath jagged in his throat, heart jumping as he listened. Nothing. Good. He had lost them. The face was almost petulant, a drooping full lower lip somewhat redeemed by the bony hooked nose and flecked hazel eyes.

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