Thereafter, it was a simple case of climbing the stairs to find Jan’s apartment. His door was locked, and no one came to answer it when we thumped as hard as we dared. I didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to our presence so shouting through the door to wake Jan up – if he were in there asleep – was not a good option.
Instead, I used the key I found on Jane’s bunch of keys. It was helpfully labelled, Jan’s place.
A neighbour’s door opened across the landing and a woman popped her head out. We had made enough noise to make her curious. Seeing me put a key in Jan’s lock, her face took on a worried expression. I think it was largely caused by Basic’s rolled up sleeves. He looked like a crap hitman escaped from a nineties film. He also looked like a bear and a caveman had a child and someone had then put clothes on it, so I wasn’t surprised by her reaction.
With a turn of the key, the door opened, and I swung it wide with a gesture that Basic should go inside. Then I hit the lady with a smile and started walking her way. She was maybe twenty-five or twenty-six, had freckles that went with her strawberry blonde hair and she was dressed for a night out.
It was mid-evening, so she probably had a friend or friends over for a few drinks to get them going before they grabbed a taxi into the city centre to hit a nightclub or two.
This was going to be easy.
Widening my smile, I said, ‘Hey, babe. I’m Big Ben, but I guess you already worked that part out for yourself.’ She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Did you have plans over Christmas that included screaming my name multiple times? Because you do now.’
A second lady appeared next to the first, confirming my theory about having friends over for drinks first. She was mixed race, African and Chinese perhaps. Whatever her racial origins, she was a knockout. I hit her with the same smile.
‘That goes for you too, kitten.’
She curled her lip at me, ‘Oh, wow, what a creep you are.’
This happens occasionally, and I mean occasionally. So rare that I forget it even can happen, but I was being knocked back.
Caught off guard, I mumbled, ‘Excuse me?’
The mixed-race lady hooked her friend’s arm, guiding her back inside the flat with a sneer thrown in my direction. As the door slammed shut on my face, I heard her say, ‘Old men are such pigs.’
‘Old men?’ I repeated, still staring at the closed door. Okay, I’m not in my twenties anymore. I’m not even in my early thirties but why would that matter when I look this good?
They were clearly lesbians. At least that’s what I told myself as I wandered thoughtfully back to Jan’s front door. It was that or I was losing my touch. First the girls outside gran’s house in Aylesford and now this. It was unprecedented, but it wasn’t the start of a trend and nothing you can say would convince me otherwise.
Still, the word old was going to stick in my head for a while.
I found Basic standing in the middle of Jan’s living space.
‘Did you do this?’ I asked.
Basic looked at me, his eyebrows doing a little dance as he tried to figure out what I was asking.
‘The destruction?’ I waved my right arm to indicate the desolation of Jan’s apartment.
‘Wasn’t me,’ Basic rumbled.
I walked through to the bedroom and checked in the bathroom and tiny broom closet by the door. I wanted to be certain Jan’s body wasn’t stuffed somewhere before I spoke to anyone. His apartment had been turned upside down, but not like it had been burgled. It looked like there had been a struggle. It didn’t extend beyond the central living space, but that area was trashed.
A wireless speaker had been knocked off a shelf and was broken on the floor. Two potted plants had followed it. The TV was askew and framed photographs had been knocked from one wall. No attempt had been made to tidy up, the perpetrators choosing to leave as quickly as possible.
With a frustrated sigh that rippled my lips, I took out my phone to make a call.
Amanda. Toby Carter. Friday, December 23rd 1940hrs
‘Here’s something.’
Jagjit’s announcement brought my head up from the screen and the boring-as-wallpaper report I was reading. The search for information had got us nothing but sore eyes and stiff necks so far. I was on my fifth or sixth cup of coffee and I knew none of us were going to stop until we found Jane.
That Jane might already be dead was something none of us were prepared to voice. Tempest was with Karen Gilbert; he’d sent a text to confirm he’d found her, and we were pulling together pictures of men who we believed met the right demographic.
Unfortunately, all we had to base that demographic on was a description Karen Gilbert gave Jane three weeks ago.
‘What is it, Jagipoos?’ asked Alice, the man’s wife employing what had to be one of the world’s worst pet names ever.
He was working in Tempest’s office, trawling through … something. I’d lost track of what each of us was working on. I left my office to join him.
‘I’ve been looking at neighbours,’ he announced.
‘We all have,’ Alice reminded him.
He looked at her and blinked twice. ‘Their properties specifically, I mean. Would you believe there is a chap who was a neighbour to River Tam who was also living right next door to Naomi Parker fifteen years ago when she went missing?’
This was big news! I’d been lounging in the door waiting to hear what he might have to say. Now I was bumping hips with him
