“You find them?” Flanagan asked from the kitchen.
“Yeah. Yeah.” Cole went to select the other key, but the bunch slipped from his gloved hand and clattered to the floor.
“Butterfingers, eh?” Flanagan stood in the kitchen doorway. Cole cursed under his breath. He slipped the lid shut on the tin, picked up the keys and tossed them through the air towards Flanagan. “Here you go.”
Flanagan turned the key with a clunk and the back door opened with a loud, grating noise. “Wow,” Cole said. “That door need oil?”
“No. No,” Flanagan said. “Nothing to worry about. In fact, it’s a good thing as it means a tight seal. Keeps the draughts out.”
Cole shook his head. Flanagan was the real estate agent, and Cole held a grudging respect for his professional bullshit. As Cole followed him into the garden, he thought he should take a slice of that bullshit from Flanagan’s plate. Might come in useful.
Outside, Cole surveyed the back of the house, noting the alarm box. He waved his phone in his hand to record it all. Back in the kitchen, he winced as Flanagan squealed the door shut. Then he frowned as he watched the keys slip into Flanagan’s pocket.
Upstairs, they looked at the three bedrooms. “As you can see,” Flanagan said. “They use one as an office, but once you change the furniture, you can turn it back into a bedroom.” He pointed to his left, “That one is larger, also with good wardrobe space and then there’s the main bedroom with an ensuite.”
Cole wandered around the office. A lead ran from beneath the desk to behind the wardrobe. He held the wardrobe door. “May I?”
“Sure.”
Cole opened both the wardrobe doors. Several dresses swung on hangers in an otherwise unused space. “Nice.”
“Yes. It is. Come on. I’ll show you the main bedroom.”
They entered the main bedroom, and a buzz ran through Cole. He smiled and nodded. Flanagan waffled on. “Built in wardrobes, a dresser, a chest of drawers. Full length mirror over there....” His voice faded as Cole surveyed the room. The bed was a metal frame complete with head and tail pieces. Perfect. It didn't take much to imagine Alice Madsen lying on the bed. Vulnerable, naked and his for the taking. Later, he told himself. Later. Need to get the key copied first.
A faint smell of perfume lingered in the ensuite. Cole glanced at the shower cubicle, and again he waved the phone around as if he was pointing things out. Yet all the time, he imagined Alice Madsen in the shower. The hot jet of water caressing her naked body while he watched her…
Cole stopped himself. He was getting carried away. But he couldn't help it. She had bewitched him somehow, and the closer he got to her, the more the urge evolved, and now he wanted more.
The keys jangled in Flanagan’s pocket and he stopped fantasising about Alice and returned to the immediate problem. Supposing he hit Flanagan over the head and took the keys? But he dismissed that as daft. There had to be another way.
“Won't that big bunch of keys ruin your suit? My, er, tailor told me never to do that. Said it distorts the cut.”
“Oh really?” Flanagan took the keys out of his pocket. “Suppose you’ve got a point. Shouldn't put both phone and keys in the pockets.”
“Want me to take them for you?”
“No thanks. I better keep them.”
Flanagan flipped the keys around his fingers as they descended the stairs. Cole scowled at him as he followed. Bastard’s doing this on purpose, he thought. If only he’d trip and fall down the stairs. Cole gauged the possibility of upending Flanagan, but by the time Cole ran through the options, they’d reached the hall.
“So?” Flanagan asked. “What do you think?”
“I like it. I think it’s what we’re looking for. You think they’d take an offer?”
“They might. It’s at 3.2. Not sure they’d go under 3.”
Cole looked around the hall and peered into the lounge. “Mum’s always worried about security. What’s the set up here?”
Flanagan looked surprised, and Cole thought he might have overstepped his role as a potential buyer. Then Flanagan frowned. “Fair point.” He flipped the keys several times. “There’s an intruder alarm as you've seen. Perimeter system, meaning all the windows and doors have sensors.”
Cole followed Flanagan into the kitchen. “Oh yeah? That’s good. Mum would like that.”
Then Flanagan’s phone rang. He set the keys down on the kitchen counter and fished his phone from his pocket. “Do you mind?”
“Go ahead. You know what, Mark? I’d like to check the garden features again. That all right?”
Flanagan didn't appear to listen, he nodded and spoke into the phone. “Hello? What? No… I can’t hear you…” He turned to Cole and pointed to the phone and then to the hall. “Reception's not great.”
As soon as Flanagan walked into the hall, Cole picked up the keys.
43
Alice wandered the streets of Copenhagen until her feet hurt. When she began to limp, she gave up and took a taxi back to the hotel.
In her room, she kicked off her shoes and rubbed her ankles. The skin was grazed and red at her heels, and she winced at the angry blister on one of her toes. A glance at her phone told her she had several hours before she was to meet Connie and her husband.
She sighed and lay on the bed. Later tonight, she hoped for time alone with Connie. Tomorrow was set aside for family, assuming her brother returned her call. When she phoned Kasper’s restaurant, he was too busy to
