Take Two

CHAPTER 23

Terry’s car was a blue BMW Z4 Roadster and he insisted they drive down to Surrey in it. ‘Just in case,’ he said. ‘If someone notes down the registration number, my name’s in the frame and not yours.’ It was a convertible but he kept the top up because otherwise the wind would have played havoc with Carolyn’s wig. She didn’t know for sure where the house was, but they had plotted a route on Terry’s laptop that took the direct route for the hotel which had hosted the awards ceremony. They had printed out the map and Carolyn had it in her lap though the SatNav seemed to be taking them along the same route.

About half an hour after leaving the city, they drove by a stone church with a stumpy steeple and Carolyn stiffened. ‘We’re close,’ she said. ‘I remember passing that church.’

‘In the car or when you were in the truck?’

‘The truck. It was dark but I remember seeing a young couple sitting on the bench at the entrance.’

‘So, how far?’

Carolyn frowned. ‘Ten minutes. Fifteen maybe.’

Terry continued to drive south. They drove through a pretty village and then farmland and then the road dipped down into woodland.

Carolyn looked to her left. She saw a wall and a gate but it wasn’t the house she was looking for. Then she saw a wooden fence. ‘Slow down, Terry,’ she said.

‘Is this it?’

She shook her head. ‘No, but we’re close.’

They drove by a gateless driveway, then more woodland, then she saw a brick-built barn conversion and then she saw the wall and the gate she’d climbed over the previous night. ‘That’s it!’ she said, pointing to the left.

‘I’ll drive by and we’ll come back,’ said Terry. He slowed the BMW to a crawl and they both looked to the left. As they went by the gate, Carolyn got a glimpse of the house. ‘Do you see any cops?’ asked Terry.

‘No,’ said Carolyn. ‘No cars, anyway.’

Terry drove a few hundred yards down the road, then did a U-turn and pulled up at the side of the road. ‘What do you want to do?’ he asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘The gate was locked, you said?’

‘It’s one of those electronic things. I climbed over.’

‘You can’t really do that again, can you?’

‘I did it last night.’

‘And what if there’s someone there? Or what if someone drives by and sees you?’

‘This road isn’t that busy,’ she said. As if to deliberately contradict her, a British Gas van came up behind them, beeped its horn and accelerated by.

‘I’ll go,’ he said.

‘Sure, a black man climbing over a gate. How’s that going to look? They have shotguns out here, you know.’

Terry laughed. ‘I’m a black man in a suit, I’ll be fine.’

‘But you’re right. What if the police are inside?’

‘I can’t believe there isn’t some sort of bell or intercom,’ he said. ‘How do visitors announce themselves?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Carolyn. ‘But it was dark. Maybe I missed it.’

‘Okay, here’s what we do. We’ll brazen it out and pull in at the gate. I’ll look for a bell. If there isn’t one I’ll climb over and have a quick look. The estate agent story will just about stand up.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’ve reached the stage where I’d like to know what happened last night,’ said Terry. ‘And for all we know the guy’s up there nursing a sore head and we’re worrying about nothing.’

‘There was a lot of blood,’ said Carolyn. ‘It splattered across the window.’

Terry nodded, took a deep breath, and drove back to the gate. He pulled over in front of it and climbed out. He walked over to the left-hand side of the gate and examined the brick pillar. There was nothing that looked like a bell. He turned back to the car, shrugged, and then walked over to the other pillar. There was a letterbox set into the bricks. Terry grinned when he spotted a small brass button in a grille on the side of the pillar facing the gate. He pushed it and waited but there was no response. He pushed it again, waited a full minute, then went back to the car. ‘There is a bell there but there’s no answer so I’m guessing the place is empty. I’ll nip over and have a quick look. Have your mobile ready. If anyone turns up text me. And sit in the driver’s seat, just in case you have to move the car.’

‘Have you got a signal? Because when I was here my phone didn’t work.’

Terry took out his phone and shook his head. ‘You’re right. Okay, beep the horn three times if there’s a problem.’ He put the phone away.

‘Be careful, Terry.’

‘All of a sudden you’re worried,’ he said. ‘That’s rich. All morning you’re the one who’s been wanting to play detective.’ He patted the top of the car then jogged over to the gate. He looked left and right down the road, then nimbly climbed up and over. He dropped down onto the driveway and jogged towards the house.

Carolyn had said there were two cars parked in front of the garage last night, but there were no vehicles in sight now as he headed up the driveway. The house was cold and clinical, white walls and large expanses of glass, an architect’s project rather than a home. He decided to ring the doorbell just in case there was anyone at home, all ready to go with his estate agent story. He rang twice but there was no answer. He walked around to the front of the house and peered through the floor-to-ceiling glass window. Carolyn had said that blood had sprayed across the glass, but it appeared pristine. The room was just as she’d described it, but there was no crystal statue of a dolphin. He moved a few feet to the side to get a different view but still couldn’t see any blood. In fact, there was no sign of anything untoward in the sitting room.

He walked around the side of the house. There was a large terrace at the rear of the building, with a barbecue area and a white circular cast iron table surrounded by half a dozen ornate matching chairs. Beyond it was a large swimming pool with a diving board and stretching into the distance were well-kept lawns dotted with trees.

There was a conservatory at the rear of the building with French windows. Terry walked across the flagstones and tried the handle. To his surprise, the door opened. He stood still for a few seconds as he wondered what to do. If he entered the building, he was trespassing. But if he walked away, he and Carolyn would never know the truth. He took a deep breath and stepped inside. As he crossed the threshold, he saw a burglar alarm sensor close to the ceiling. As he stared at it a red light flashed and he flinched, expecting an alarm to go off, but nothing happened. He figured the sensors were on but the alarm hadn’t been armed. There was a possibility that there was a silent alarm linked to a police station or a security company but they were in the middle of nowhere so even if the alarm was on, he figured he had enough time for a quick look around.

He walked through the kitchen into a double-height hallway and into the sitting room. It was pretty much as Carolyn had described it, except for the fact there was no sign of anyone having had their brains bashed in. The floors were pine polished to a gleaming shine. He walked around and while there were several large crystal figurines, there was nothing resembling a dolphin. He went over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and inspected the glass carefully. The glass was spotless. He frowned. Perhaps too spotless. He stood back and looked at the glass from an angle. It looked as if someone had polished parts of the window. He knelt down and scrutinised the bottom of the frame. It too had been cleaned but he saw a small red spot near the floor. He licked his finger, pressed it against the spot and rubbed it. He removed his finger and stared at the red smear on the frame. Blood.

He stood up and looked around the floor. There was a very slight difference in the colour of the wood in front of the coffee table, more obvious at some angles than others. He moved his head from side to side as he stared at the polished boards. There had been a rug there, probably for many years. The sun had lightened the exposed wood but not where it had been covered by the rug.

Terry’s heart was pounding and he could feel sweat beading in the small of his back. Carolyn hadn’t imagined it. Someone had been attacked in the room and it looked as if the body had been wrapped in a rug and taken away.

As he walked to the hallway, another alarm sensor’s red light winked on. There was a marble table in the hallway with half a dozen unopened envelopes on it. He looked through them. There was a gas bill, a mobile phone bill, and several circulars. He slipped the phone bill into his pocket and then went back out through the conservatory and let himself out. He closed the door behind him and hurried down the driveway.

He climbed over the gate and jogged over to the car. Carolyn got out, laughing. ‘I’m sure you’ve got a shady past, the way you shimmied over that gate,’ she said.

‘Darling, that was not a shimmy,’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here. The alarm sensor thingies were flashing red, there might be a phone link to the cops.’

He got into the driving seat while Carolyn walked around and got into the passenger side. As they drove back to London, Terry told her what he’d seen in the house.

‘See, I wasn’t making it up,’ said Carolyn.

‘I didn’t think for one minute you were,’ said Terry. He handed her the envelope he’d taken from the hall.

‘Terry, bloody hell. You little thief.’

‘It’s a phone bill, darling, it’s not as if I stole the family jewels. It’ll tell us who lives in the house.’

Carolyn opened the envelope and slid out the bill. ‘Nicholas Cohen,’ she said. She frowned. ‘The thing is, is he the hitter or the hittee?’

‘The hittee?’

‘The guy that got hit. Was he Nicholas Cohen? Or was it Nicholas Cohen who was doing the hitting?’

‘That’s easy enough to find out,’ said Terry. ‘You just call his number. If he answers, he’s the killer.’

‘That’s what you think? That whoever got hit, died?’

‘If there was as much blood as you said there was, it sounds like it. Plus the missing rug suggests they took away a body. You know, now’s the time we should call the police.’

‘And say what? I saw a crime while I was trespassing?’

‘What’s the alternative, pretend that it never happened?’

Carolyn waved the phone bill at him. ‘Let’s see who this Nicholas Cohen is, shall we? If he’s still alive then I need to get a look at him. If he’s the guy who I saw, then okay maybe we can go to the cops and they can arrest him. But if he’s the victim, then we need to think it through.’

‘Think what through?’

‘If I go to the cops, all I’ll have is a description of the killer. And if that gets out, then I won’t know who the killer is but the killer will know who I am and I don’t think I can live with that, Terry. I’ll be looking over my shoulder until they arrest the guy. I’m the only witness, so if he’s killed once he’s not going to worry about doing it a second time, is he?’

‘Darling, I think you’re over-thinking it.’ He grinned. ‘But playing detective is good fun, so let’s give it a go. We can be like Dempsey and Makepeace.’

‘Now you’re really showing your age,’ laughed Carolyn. ‘That was thirty years ago.’

‘I watch the reruns on ITV3,’ said Terry. ‘Michael Brandon was fit back then.’

‘He’s still fit,’ said Carolyn. ‘He was in Hustle a few years back. And New Tricks.’

‘And Glynis just keeps on working. She did Emmerdale, EastEnders and The Royal.’

‘Bitch,’ laughed Terry.

‘Bloody right,’ said Carolyn. She laughed. ‘Actually that’s not fair, she’s a sweetie. But I wish I had her agent.’