Dead at First Sight

123 Friday 12 October

Tooth, holding a clipboard, which he knew was always a good prop, looked for a bell, but couldn’t see one. So he rapped hard on the oak door with his knuckles. He found some British accents hard to master, but others came easily. At this particular moment, he was a Welshman.

It was opened by a woman with silver hair, and all dolled-up for lover boy. She wore a low-cut blouse revealing a large amount of cleavage, a short green skirt, knee-high patent-leather boots and reeked of dense, musky perfume. She looked at him with undisguised irritation, clearly not wanting anyone around at this moment queering the pitch.

He flashed the dead man’s identity card, keeping his finger over the photograph. ‘I am so very sorry to be bothering you, like. I’m from Southern Water and we are investigating a major leak. Would you mind if I checked your water meter — it might be saving you money, you know.’

‘Is this going to take long?’ she asked, unsmiling and clearly anxious.

‘Oh no, madam, just a few minutes. Can you direct me to the water meter?’

‘I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea — I’m house-sitting for a friend.’

‘All right then if I have a quick look for it?’

‘Be my guest.’ She glanced at her watch, then out of the window, past the van, at the drive beyond.

Tooth frowned. But he took it as licence to check the place out.

Lady, he thought, if you knew why I was really here, you’d be throwing your arms around me in gratitude. I’m your freakin’ guardian angel, lady.

‘Do you have a loft?’

‘Yes, there’s a hatch up on the landing. I saw a pole with a hook against the wall. I’ll show you.’

He followed her up the stairs, and she pointed to the hatch and then the pole. He reached up with the pole and pushed the hatch, which dropped down on a hinge to reveal a folding ladder. He hooked the bottom rung and pulled it down.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ she said.

As he began climbing she went back downstairs.