With his wallet still in his hand, the passenger raised his sunglasses so that they perched on top of his head and looked up at the block of flats. Then he removed a small piece of paper from the wallet and studied it for a moment. Returning his glasses to the bridge of his nose, he picked up the suitcase and started to cross the road. As he went, he glanced repeatedly up the street in the direction from which he’d just arrived and occasionally tapped his long white stick on the ground in front of him.
Jarvis and Statham were partially blocking the doorway and stepped to the side as the man approached.
‘Thank you,’ he said and pushed open the glass door.
Patterson immediately began to give Jarvis and Coleman their instructions, and only Statham continued to watch the blind man as he crossed the entrance hall and pressed the button for the lift.
‘Something very odd about that bloke,’ he said.
Patterson broke off from what he was saying to the other two. ‘What?’
‘The way he took off his dark glasses and looked up at the flats for a start. And I’m bloody sure he was reading something on that bit of paper he took out of his wallet. If you ask me, he’s no more blind than I am.’
All four of them peered through the glass as the man prodded at the lift button once again, and Patterson realised that immediate action was called for when he saw him turn away from the lift and head towards the stairs.
‘Right, Jarvis,’ he said, ‘you get after him and see which flat he goes to. Coleman, you go and fetch whatever surveillance gear you’ve got with you. I don’t want you two barging in on anything yet, so get yourselves into an adjoining flat and just listen in for now till we know what’s going on.’
‘Okay, guv,’ said Coleman and hurried off towards his car.
Jarvis waited until his quarry had disappeared from view up the stairs and then set off in pursuit.
‘I only wish I had a bit more faith in those two,’ said Patterson with a slight shake of the head. ‘Come on then, Colin. Let’s find out if that bloody tracker really is working.’
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
They climbed the short flight of steps to the bright red door at the top, and Trevor rapped three times with the heavy brass knocker. Moments later, the door was opened by a woman in a blue pirate-style headscarf, paint spattered T-shirt and jeans that were torn at the knees. She was wiping her hands on a grubby piece of rag, and Trevor caught a strong whiff of white spirit.
‘All right, Janice?’ he said as Milly shot past her into the house.
‘Well, look what the cat dragged in,’ she said.
‘Sorry I didn’t let you know I was coming.’
His sister shrugged. ‘You’ll just have to take me as you find me, that’s all. I’m in the middle of decorating.’
‘So I see,’ said Trevor, taking the rag from her and wiping a smear of lime green paint from the tip of her nose. He handed the rag back to her and noticed she was looking beyond his right shoulder. ‘Oh yes, this is a er… friend of mine. Sandra.’
Sandra stepped forward and held out her hand.
‘Best not,’ said Janice with a warm smile and indicated the streaks of paint on her palms. ‘Nice to meet you though.’
She flashed Trevor a look, and the question in her eyes was unmistakable, but the exact nature of his relationship with Sandra was none of her business, so he ignored her.
‘Any chance of a cup of tea?’ he said and hoped the unspoken “and maybe a sandwich and a bit of cake” would be taken as read.
Janice ushered them into the hallway, the floor of which was covered with a variety of old bedsheets. A pair of aluminium stepladders stood against the wall she was painting, and an open five-litre can of emulsion lay on its side close to the bottom rung, its contents still adding to the spreading puddle of lime green paint.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Janice and grabbed the almost empty paint tin to set it upright. ‘That dog of yours is a sodding menace.’
‘How do you know it was Milly?’ said Trevor, who feared the worst and therefore failed miserably in his attempt to sound indignant.
By way of reply, his sister pointed at the trail of lime green paw prints which led from the scene of the crime and continued on through the open doorway on the left.
‘Ah,’ said Trevor and followed the trail into the lounge, praying that the hall carpet under the bedsheets wasn’t the same shade of pale beige.
‘Oh Christ,’ he heard Janice say from behind him. ‘It’s gone right through. Beige bloody carpet as well.’
Trevor flinched and easily resisted the temptation to tell her she could have bought some waterproof dustsheets from Dreamhome Megastores for just a few quid. Instead, his eyes tracked the paw prints across the spacious living room. He gained a modicum of relief when he saw that the intensity of the green gradually decreased until the trail vanished altogether immediately in front of the settee on which Milly was now lying. She was on her back with her legs in the air and Trevor’s nephew, Josh, was stroking her chest.