DJ´s Bait in the Box # 21

[The beautiful box belongs to Kerrie, Mysteries in Paradise]

This British crime novel is among the earliest in a long series.

“The child was lying partially on its stomach just beyond the flintstone wall in a bed of bloomless creeping jenny. By the length and the cut of hair it appeared to be a boy. He was very dead. Even if she had been silly enough or hysterical enough to convince herself that he was merely asleep, explaining why he would be sleeping completely naked in a late afternoon growing colder by the minute was an impossibility. And why under a tree in a copse of pines where the temperature was even lower than it would be had he sought out the last rays of the afternoon sun? And why would he sleep in that unusual position, with his right hip taking the burden of his weight and his legs splayed out, and his right arm twisted awkwardly so that it was doubled up beneath itself, and his head turned to the left with three-quarters of it pressed into the ground, into the creeping jenny? Yet his skin was quite flushed – very nearly red – and surely that indicated warmth, life, the pulse and flow of blood…”

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Gæt en bog # 21.
Denne britiske krimi er blandt de første i en lang serie.

“Barnet lå delvist på maven lige ved siden af flintestensmuren i et bed af fredløs uden blomster. Ud fra frisuren og hårlængden så det ud til at være en dreng. Han var meget død. Selv hvis hun havde været fjollet og hysterisk nok til at overbevise sig selv om, at han kun sov, var det umuligt at forklare, hvorfor han skulle ligge og sove fuldstændigt nøgen en sen eftermiddag, som blev koldere og koldere for hvert minut. Og hvorfor under et træ i en underskov af fyrretræer hvor temperaturen var endnu lavere end den ville have været hvis han havde udsøgt sig eftermiddagens sidste solstråler? Og hvorfor skulle han sove i den usædvanlige stilling, med vægten på højre hofte og benene drejet udad, og hans højre arm vredet så akavet at den var helt foldet sammen, og hovedet drejet mod venstre, så tre fjerdedele af det blev presset ned i jorden, ned i bedet med fredløs? Og dog glødede hans hud – næsten rødt – og det måtte bestemt betyde varme, liv, puls og strømmende blod…”

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