Ed McBain and Enid Blyton co-write

A bit of innocent parody …

 

Five Go To The 87th Precinct

Anne did not like to cross to Kirrin Island by night, even when it was balmy. It gave her the creeps. She knew plenty of kids who thought it was pretty scary.

          ‘What would Uncle Quentin say?’

          ‘He’s typing up D.D. reports,’ said George. ‘I vote we row over. The moonlight’s pretty decent. You coming?’

          ‘Oh dear, is it such a good idea?’

          George shrugged. The light was blue, almost electric, and seemed to sizzle on the tide, which snatched at the shingle in a desultory manner. Anne’s brothers, Julian and Dick, arrived some ten seconds later.

          Julian looked at the bay, his eyes shining.

          His eyes were shining a lot of the time, just now. It was the hols. And they were always dangerous.

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