This room was in the middle of the house, so the only window that overlooked it was in his own back yard. Boy, was he paranoid. There was also a pile of sand on the desk. Fingerprints had run through it, so no doubt the police had checked it and moved on. I dismissed it and carried on looking around the ground floor, careful to avoid the windows.
Climbing the stairs, I saw a few framed photos and some nice pieces of artwork. Very nice in fact, and all originals. This guy also had a good eye, and I approved of his choices. I ran a thorough check of the bedrooms and bathroom, but drew a blank and headed back downstairs.
A key clicked in the front door. I cursed. I wouldn’t be able to get downstairs and out the back door in time. There was a clear view from the front door to the foot of the stairs. Instead, I moved back up, searching for a place to hide.
The front door opened and closed, but only a few seconds later there was a knock and I could hear someone open the door again and a muffled conversation taking place. Nosey neighbour for the win. From the tone of the conversation the neighbour seemed okay with whomever had opened the door, and there was a low-level hubbub of polite condolences. I held my breath; this was probably going to work out fine. Whoever had just entered the house was obviously a friend or colleague, and they weren’t here to search the premises, just switch off the water.
I looked out the back window. I might be able to climb out and escape back along the alleyway. My gut clenched though when I saw two men at the far end of the alley. I had a bad feeling that they weren’t coming to water the plants.
#16 Julius – Beta Earth
Julius got on his bike and rode home. He lived further out than Charlie, but the exercise was good for him as he cycled along the towpath towards Milton. Grabbing his set of spare keys for Charlie’s pad, he headed back into town.
The shock of hearing of his friend's death was still overwhelming him. He paused to consider Charlie’s parents, career diplomats currently living in the US. He would need to get in touch with them to offer his condolences. They were nice people, and he enjoyed staying at their house during school holidays. They used to ask him constantly if he was alright, because they weren't used to such a quiet boy. He wasn't looking forward to the next time he met them. He couldn't believe that only a few days ago he and Charlie had been laughing and speculating about what finding a Fabergé egg would mean. Wealth, fame, glory. Neither, for a minute, had considered death. With those thoughts came pain and isolation and fear. Julius wiped a tear away as he continued to pedal into town. There was no point in being maudlin. That wasn't going to solve anything.
He propped up his bike in Charlie’s small front garden and opened the door. Charlie’s house was a typical Cambridge terrace. The front door opened into a welcoming front room, and beyond that, separated by the staircase, was a dining room he used as a study and then through to the kitchen. Everything was on display. His friend's home was an open book, unlike his life. He looked at the sofa where he and Charlie would sit and play on the X-box until dawn, killing zombies and aliens, drinking beers, and putting the world to rights. Julius preferred Assassin’s Creed and Charlie always thrashed him at it, but that wasn’t the point. Just hanging out with his friend had been the point.
Julius took a deep breath. If he were going to find any clues to his friend's murder, it would be in the study.
A knock on the front door caught him unawares, and he jumped. The police would no doubt have already visited, and the killers were unlikely to knock. Feeling both foolish and nervous, he answered the door, only to see Charlie’s next-door neighbour standing in front of him.
Mrs Mack was an older woman who lived for her own opinions, and the lives, but not the opinions of, her neighbours. There wasn't a soul who twitched on this street that Mrs Mack didn't know about.
‘Oh Julius, it’s you. I didn't know who it was. I thought the killers may be back.’
‘They were never here Mrs Mack.’
‘Such terrible news. I haven't been able to sleep. The police won't be able to catch them. Foreigners I hear.’
‘I don't think the police have released any information —’
‘Oh yes, well no doubt they've spoken to you as well. They spoke to me, they wanted to know if I had seen anything. I told them. I showed them my notebooks.’
Julius looked at her, appalled. Did she actually keep records on the coming and goings of her neighbours? How many times did he feature?
‘And were you able to help them?’
Mrs Mack went on to explain how she offered them valuable information on the council binmen who she thought were illegal aliens, and the postman who may be stealing, and the couple down the street who were fiddling their benefits. Mrs Mack lived in a world of crime and fear. Ironically, the one time that something truly fearful happened, she had
