There were no motion-detector lights at the back of the house, just standard ones with an on/ off switch by the patio doors. I remembered switching them on for a barbecue.
I stroked Kelly's hair and looked down and smiled. Then, really slowly, I started to unzip the bag and get out what I needed. I put my mouth right to her ear and whispered, "I want you to stay here. It's really important that you look after this kit. You'll see me over there, OK?"
She nodded. Off I went.
I reached the patio doors. First things first: make sure they're locked. They were. I got my Maglite and checked to see if there were any bolts at the top and bottom of the frame.
It's no good defeating a lock if there are also bolts across;
that's one of the reasons why you try to attack a building at the point of last exit, because you know they can't be bolted again from the outside.
Normally the next thing to do would be to look for the spare key why spend an hour with the lock-picking kit if there's one hidden only a few feet away? Some people still leave theirs dangling on a string on the other side of the mailbox, or on the inside of a pet door. Others leave it under a trash can or just behind a little pile of rocks by the door. If a key is going to be left, it will nearly always be somewhere on the normal approach to the door. But this was Kev's house: I wouldn't find spare keys lying around. I put the photographer's blanket over my head and shoulders and, with the Maglite in my mouth, got to work with the lock-pick gun.
I opened the doors gently, moved the curtain aside, and looked inside the living room. The first thing I noticed was that all the curtains and shutters were closed, which was good for me because, once inside, we'd have cover. The second thing that hit me was an overpowering smell of chemicals. I tiptoed back to Kelly and whispered, "Come on, then!"
Our shoes were caked with mud, so we took them off on the concrete step and put them in the bag. Then we went inside and I pulled the doors closed.
I held the Maglite with my middle finger and forefinger over the lens to block most of the light and kept it close to the floor so we could see our way through the living room. The carpet and underlay had been taken up, and all the furniture was pushed to one side. All that was left were the particle board sheets that the builders had used instead of floorboards.
Someone had done a good job of scrubbing the brown stains under where Kev had been lying, which explained the chemical smell. The Murder Mop people had been in; once forensics finished, it was up to the commercial companies to clear away the mess.
We reached the door that led into the front hall. Kelly stood still, an old hand at all this stuff now. I got on my knees, eased the door ajar, and looked through. The front door was closed but light from the streetlamps shone through the stained-glass flower set into the window above it. I switched off the flashlight and stationed Kelly by the bag in the hallway.
I stopped and listened, and generally tuned in. The engine was still idling.
I felt Kelly pulling my jacket.
"Nick?"
"Shhh!"
"What happened to the rug--and what's that horrible smell?"
I turned around and half-crouched down. I put my finger to her lips and said, "We'll talk about it later."
There was a beep beep beep from the police car's radio.
The guys inside were probably drinking coffee, pissed off to be on duty all night. Some radio traffic came on the net. Who ever was Control sounded like Hitler with a dress on.
Indicating that Kelly should stay where she was, I moved across to the study and gently opened the door. I went back, picked up the bag, and guided Kelly into the room, propping the door open with the bag to let the light come through from the hall. Everything looked very much the same as before except that the things that had been strewn all over the place had now been arranged in a neat line along one wall. The PC was still on its side on the desk, the printer and scanner in position on the floor. They had all been dusted for prints.
I took the photographer's material and a box of tacks from the bag and lifted the chair near to the window. Taking my time, I climbed up and pinned the fabric along the top and down the sides of the entire wooden window frame. I could now close the door and put the flashlight on.
I went over to Kelly. Even above the reek of solvents and cleaners I got a waft of greasy hair, Coca-Cola, bubblegum, and chocolate. I whispered into her ear, "Where is it? Just point."
I shone the flashlight all around the walls, and she pointed at the baseboard behind the door. This was good; nothing there seemed to have been disturbed.
I immediately started prying the wooden strip away from the wall with a screwdriver. A vehicle passed the house, and I heard laughter from the police car probably at Control's expense. They'd be there solely to deter people from coming around and being nosy. Chances were, the place would be knocked down soon; who'd want to buy a house in which a family had been murdered? Maybe it would be turned into a memorial park or something.
I kept Kelly right next to me; I wanted to keep her reassured. She was interested in what was happening, so I smiled at her now and again to show that everything was fine.
With a small creak the section of board started to give way.
I pulled it right off and put it to one side. Then I bent down again and shone the flashlight inside. The beam glinted on metal. What looked like a gun safety box, about eighteen inches square, was recessed into the wall. It was going to need decoding. It could take hours.
I got out the black wallet and set to work, trying to re member to grin at Kelly and let her know it wouldn't be long, but I could see she was getting restless. Ten minutes went by.
Fifteen. Twenty. Finally it was all too much for her. In a loud whisper she said crossly, "What about my teddies?"
"Shhh!" I put my finger to her lips again. What I meant was Fuck the teddies we'll get them later on. I continued decoding.
There was a pause; then, no longer a whisper: "But you said!"
It had to be stopped right there and then. Obviously, being Mr. Smiley wasn't working. I turned to Kelly and hissed, "We'll do it in a minute. Now shut up!"
She was taken aback, but it worked.
I was luckier than I might have been with the decoding. I'd just finished, had put the tools away, and was opening the box when I heard a low moan from her.
"I don't like it here, Nick.
It's all changed."
I turned around, grabbed her, and covered her mouth with my hand.
"For Christ's sake shut up!" It wasn't what she expected but I didn't have time to explain.
With my hand still clamped hard over her mouth, I picked her up and slowly walked to the window. I listened, waited, but there was nothing. Just a bit of banter and laughing, and the crackle of the radio.
As I turned back, however, I heard a short, sharp metallic dragging sound.
Then, for a split second, nothing.
Then, as Kev's pewter tankard of pens and pencils fell from the desk and hit the bare floor, there was a resounding crash.
The noise went on as bits and pieces scattered in all directions. As I'd turned, Kelly's coat must have caught on the sharp points of the pencils and dragged the tankard off the table.
I knew the noise was magnified twenty times in my head, but I also knew they would have heard it.
Kelly chose that moment to start to lose it, but there was no time to worry about that. I just left her where she was, went to the doorway, and listened to the sound of car doors opening.