No Sleep for the Dead

Chapter 37

The address the owner of White Tower cabs had given Riley was a large detached Edwardian villa on the outskirts of Pinner. Set in an open expanse of lawn, with a few small shrubs dotted around in a haphazard fashion, the overall appearance was slightly unkempt, as if the building and the garden were in need of a friendly make-over.

The front of the property was shielded by a stretch of larch fencing and some sturdy wooden gates, but none of it prevented Riley and Palmer gaining a clear view of the house and the surrounding grounds. There were no vehicles parked out front, and no signs of movement at the windows. The gravel drive led from the gate down past the side of the house, vanishing behind the building and a heavy laurel bush.

‘I thought they’d be hiding behind high walls and security fencing,’ said Riley, peering through a gap in the wooden panelling. ‘This is like a goldfish bowl.’

‘Hiding in plain sight,’ replied Palmer, nodding at the few shrubs in evidence between the house and road. ‘They can see anyone taking an interest and deter the local hoodies from thinking there’s anything going on that might offer rich pickings.’ He turned his back to the fence and went to light another cigarette, then thought better of it. ‘What do you reckon?’

‘About what?’ Riley turned from peering through the fence.

‘Is there anyone in?’ He smiled. ‘I thought you might be able to tell, that’s all.’

She frowned. ‘Now why on earth would I be able to do that?’

He shrugged. ‘Girl I went out with once, she could always tell if anyone was in a house. I thought it was a woman thing… something about atmosphere and… ‘ He paused and gave another shrug.

‘And what?’

‘Curtains. She had this thing about soft furnishings. Said she could tell all you needed to know about a house by the state of the soft furnishings — especially the curtains. According to her, you could even tell what type of people lived there.’

Riley gave a mild hiss of disgust. ‘Yeah, right. And you think I should have the same instincts? What am I — the House Doctor?’

He grinned and pulled a face. ‘Well, maybe not.’

But Riley bent back to her peep-hole and studied the building for a while. She saw no evidence of occupation, but that didn’t mean anything. If Radnor and Michael were inside and currently about to flee, they would hardly be telegraphing their presence to onlookers. And the absence of vehicles was nothing. They either had a car locked away somewhere, or had other means of transport, like cabs. She checked the front doorstep, but there were no tell-tale milk bottles to help her, full or empty.

In spite of herself, or because of what Palmer had said, she found her eyes drawn to the curtains, and wondered why there were nets at all of the windows except one; a narrow one in a room adjacent to the front door. Could it simply be a quirk of the household or was it a sign that there was no woman around to give a balanced appearance to the place? Then she noticed that at the top of the window was a curving line of pale fabric, as if the net had been tucked away to one side. Was that because someone inside wanted an unobstructed view of the front garden and gate?

‘It might be a good idea to check with White Tower cabs,’ she suggested to Palmer, and handed him her phone. ‘See if they’ve got a booking.’

‘Gotcha, miss.’ He hit re-dial and waited. When it was answered, he asked if there were any cabs booked for Radnor that day or the next, giving the address of the house where they were standing.

Poppy replied none had been ordered, and that all their cars were fully booked.

He switched off the phone. ‘No booking. They must have other plans.’

Riley pressed her face close to the fence. ‘I reckon the drive curves round the back of the house. If so, there’s easily room for a car or two round there.’

‘Maybe. I wonder if this is the only way out.’ Palmer stood back from the fence and looked along the street. The larch fencing across the front of Radnor’s property ran for fifty feet or so, then stopped at a narrow lane with a metal bollard in the centre to prevent vehicle access. Across the other side of the lane was a high wall bordering another large house.

‘Give me two minutes,’ he said, and walked along the street, ducking into the entrance to the lane. Five minutes later, he was back. ‘The lane goes all the way down to another road running parallel with this one. The garden’s bordered by a wooden fence like this one. I couldn’t see a gate or a doorway, but the ground all around the house is wide open. There’s a brick building behind the house. Could be a garage. No cars outside, though.’

‘I think they’re still in there,’ said Riley, silently hoping that she was wrong.

‘What makes you so sure?’

Riley managed a smile. ‘Because of the curtains. See how one window is clear? It’s too dark to see inside from here, but anyone standing at the back of the room would be able to see out without being spotted.’

Palmer gave a quiet snort of derision at this revelation. ‘You’re kidding me.’ He ducked his head to look, then grunted. ‘Damn. You’re right.’

‘So it’s a frontal assault, then?’ Riley asked, ignoring her earlier fears about facing Radnor and Michael. She wanted to get this over with, no matter what risks they might face inside.

‘Yup.’ Palmer walked along the fence to the gate and peered round the gatepost. ‘Up to the front door, see if anyone answers. You ready?’

They stepped through the gateway and walked up to the house, staying on the grass to avoid making unnecessary noise. The place had a deserted feel about it, but that might be an illusion. Even now they could be under scrutiny, their progress being tracked by the men inside.

The front door held a tarnished brass fish as a door knocker, and Palmer flipped it up and down a couple of times. The resulting booming noise seemed to echo inside the building.

‘Empty?’ said Riley.

‘Empty front hall, maybe.’ Palmer gave the knocker another flip, then stepped back to survey the house. The windows stared back, blank and unhelpful. No hurried faces peering out, and no sounds of furtive movement. ‘Now I know what it’s like to be a Jehovah’s Witness,’ he muttered, and turned to walk round the side of the house.

As he did so, an engine started close by and a car door slammed.

Palmer glanced to their left, towards the lane bordering the property. ‘Bugger. There was a beat-up old Merc parked out there. I figured it belonged to someone else.’ He ran across the lawn towards the fence, with Riley hard on his heels.

The fence was six feet high, and Palmer looked as if he was going to run straight through it. But at the last second, he swerved sideways and, placing his hands on the top, swung himself up and over, rolling his body to prepare for the landing on the other side. Riley followed, lighter and more supple, but hampered by her lack of height. She landed in time to see Palmer sprinting towards the far end of the lane. Eighty yards or so beyond him, a dark-blue Mercedes saloon was standing close by the fence, a haze of exhaust smoke puffing from the rear, its brake lights burning. The car was dirty and battered, and wore a layer of street grime as if it had been dumped there months ago. A thick bloom of dust covering the rear window obscured the inside.

Then a shadow moved at the side of the road and a man stepped out towards the car. As he reached for a door handle, he turned at the sound of Palmer’s footsteps.

It was Michael.