In A Dark House

arches above the glossy black front doors and the white shutters framing the ground-floor windows. Although not obviously ostentatious, Laura Novak’s Park Street address spoke of financial comfort. In London, location was everything, and this house had it all – no more than two or three minutes’ walk from the river in one direction and Borough Market in the other, and another minute or two past Borough Market would bring you to London Bridge Station. It was also, Kincaid mused, a mere hop and a skip from Michael Yarwood’s Southwark Street warehouse.

“It’s very close, isn’t it?” Gemma said uneasily, echoing his thoughts as they got out of the car.

Locating the number Kath had given him, he looked up at the house. Although the day was already warm and many of the other flats had windows cracked open, Laura Novak’s were sealed and her curtains drawn. The flowers in the window boxes looked parched and wilted, in spite of the brief shower in the night.

Kincaid rang the bell and they waited, listening, but there was no answer.

“Could she be hiding from Tony?” whispered Gemma.

“Bloody suffocated if she is. Let’s give the neighbors a try.” He nodded to the right.

This time their ring was followed by the quick tapping of heels, and the door was flung open by a small Asian woman. “Jamie, how many times have I told you-” She stopped, staring at them in surprise. “Sorry, I thought you were my son. He’s always forgetting his keys. Can I help you?”

Producing his warrant card, Kincaid introduced himself and Gemma. “We wondered if we might talk to you about your next-door neighbor, Laura Novak.”

“Why?” she answered with a frown of concern. “Is Laura in some kind of trouble?”

“We’re just making a welfare check at this point. She hasn’t been seen for a couple of days.”

“Would you like to come in? Oh, I’m Monica – Monica Karimgee, by the way.” She led them down a hallway and into a bright kitchen at the back of the house. The room smelled of coffee and cinnamon buns, and the pages of the Guardian were spread across a small oak table.

“Sorry to disturb your peaceful Sunday morning,” said Gemma, with the genuine warmth that made her so effective in interviews.

Monica Karimgee smiled and gestured at the table. “It’s my vice, reading the Sunday paper from cover to cover, and I always make an effort to get my husband and son out of the house. I tell them I’m encouraging father-son bonding, but my motives are really more selfish.” She was a pretty woman in her forties, a little plump, her glossy dark hair lightly threaded with gray. “Would you like some coffee? I’ve just made a pot.”

“Yes, please. It smells wonderful,” answered Gemma, and Kincaid concurred. Sitting where she indicated at the table, he examined their surroundings as Mrs. Karimgee fetched mugs from a cabinet. The coffee machine was German and looked as though it required programming by a computer; the rest of the kitchen was German and high-tech as well. Kincaid glanced at Gemma for signs of envy, but she looked merely comfortable and interested.

“Mrs. Karimgee,” he began when she joined them, “when-”

“It’s Ms., if you insist, not Mrs. My husband’s name is Hodge. Why don’t you just call me Monica?”

“Right, then.” Kincaid smiled and sipped carefully at his coffee. It was as good as it smelled, and he regretted that she hadn’t offered whatever smelled so enticingly of cinnamon, as well. “Monica, when did you last see Laura Novak?”

She thought for a moment before answering. “Sometime during the week. I’m not quite sure, but I think it must have been Tuesday or Wednesday.”

“Did you speak to her?”

“No. I just saw her coming in with Harriet as I was getting the post. It has been awfully quiet next door over the weekend, come to think of it, but I just assumed it was one of Harriet’s weekends with her dad and that Laura was working. No, wait” – she frowned as she thought- “that can’t be right. I know Harriet was with Tony last weekend because he and Laura had a row when he brought Harriet back. Laura’s very strict about visitations and she’d never agree to Tony having Harriet two weekends in a row.”

“This argument,” said Gemma, “did you hear what it was about?”

Monica fidgeted with her cup and looked away. “I don’t want to sound like a snoop. It was unavoidable, really. My office is at the front of the house – I’m a commercial illustrator and I work from home – so if someone’s shouting in the street it’s a bit hard to ignore. All I can tell you is that Laura seemed to be angry with Tony, but then that’s not unusual. I worry about Harriet – it can’t possibly be good for her, all the dissension.”

“No,” Kincaid agreed, thinking of the damage their own difficulties with Eugenia had caused Kit. “Do you know why Laura’s always angry with Tony?”

Again Monica looked uncomfortable. “Look, I really don’t want to gossip. Surely that’s their affair.”

“Under ordinary circumstances, yes,” Gemma told her earnestly, “but Tony Novak has reported both his ex- wife and his daughter missing. The more we know about what was going on between Tony and Laura, the more likely we are to get to the bottom of this quickly.”

Monica blanched. “But you said Laura – Harriet’s missing, too?”

“Her father thinks so, and there’s no answer next door. You’re sure you didn’t see any signs that Laura and Harriet were going away for a weekend?”

“No. It is odd, though, now that I think about it,” Monica said slowly. “On Friday – Friday morning, it would have been – I think I saw Tony’s car. I just happened to look out the window, then I had a phone call, and when I looked out next it was gone. It’s a dark green Volvo sedan, not all that common. When Tony and Laura split up, Laura kept the house and Tony got the car – not a great sacrifice for Laura, as she thinks it wrong to own a nonessential automobile.”

“A nonessential car?” Kincaid echoed, puzzled.

“You know. She’s very green-minded – one should use public transport at all times. I daresay the world would be a better place if we all went along with that, but most of us aren’t willing to make Laura’s sort of sacrifices.”

“So if Laura had suddenly decided to take Harriet away somewhere for an extended period, she couldn’t just have popped a few things in the boot and taken off,” Kincaid said, thinking aloud. “She would have had to hire a car or a taxi.”

“But why would Laura want to take Harriet away?” Monica asked.

“Perhaps she was afraid of Tony. It appears he has a bit of a temper.”

“Tony?” Monica looked surprised. “It’s Laura who’s always flying off the handle, not Tony.”

Kincaid thought of the man he’d met yesterday at the shelter. Had Tony Novak kept his aggressive tendencies well hidden outside the family, or had yesterday’s behavior been an aberration? “You’re sure you didn’t actually see Tony, just his car?”

“I’m positive.”

“Did you hear anything from next door during that time?”

Monica shook her head. “No. And the car can’t have been there more than five or ten minutes, tops. I wasn’t on the phone for that long.”

Gemma leaned forward, creating a little zone of intimacy between the two women. “You said before that it was Laura who was always angry. Was it Laura who wanted to end the marriage?” she asked with an air of frank curiosity that invited confidence.

“Oh, yes, she made that clear to anyone who would listen. I don’t know if it was one woman or many, but Tony obviously got caught out. Well,” Monica added, “with Tony’s looks I suppose it wasn’t surprising he should be tempted to play away from home – I suppose even Heathcliff needed some light relief occasionally.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she looked ashamed. “Oh, I’m sorry. That was really uncalled for. Look, I really do hope nothing’s happened to Laura. It’s just that she’s not an easy person. And Harriet – Harriet’s a great kid. Surely she’s all right?” There was an appeal in her voice.

“Does Harriet get on with her dad?” Kincaid asked, sidestepping the implied question.

“Adores him. And vice versa. He must be frantic with worry.”

That, Kincaid thought, certainly described Tony Novak’s state the previous day. But in that case, why had he not informed the police of his concerns? And what had he been doing at the house on Friday morning?

“We will need descriptions of Laura and Harriet, if you wouldn’t mind,” he told her.

“But didn’t Tony-”

“We just need a verification.”