The Memory of Blood(16)

Judith closed the lounge door behind her and climbed the stairs, thankful to be away from the party for a moment. With so much forced laughter and so many guests working their private agendas, it was hard to know if anyone really liked her, or whether they simply saw her as the boss’s wife. And to have all the actors here in the flat, seeing how lavishly they lived, surely that wasn’t a good idea.

She paused on the stair and listened—something fell, an odd sort of a sound. She stopped before the nursery door, a queer feeling tilting her stomach. Thunder rolled across the rooftops once more, and the lights momentarily flickered. She depressed the handle and pushed, but the door refused to move. It wasn’t locked, so what was wrong?

She tried it again. Nothing. She called to the child, but there was no sound inside the room. Total silence. What to do?

She knew she should use her initiative, but her ability to make her own decisions had been excised when she agreed to marry Robert. So she turned and ran back downstairs.

‘It’s not possible,’ said Robert flatly. ‘That door is never locked.’ His disbelief felt accusing.

‘Then try it for yourself.’ She grabbed his hand and led him away from the horde of investors.

They returned to the baby’s room and Robert tried the door. He pressed his ear to the wood and listened, hushing Judith. ‘This is ridiculous,’ he grumbled finally, straightening. ‘You left it unlocked?’

‘You know I did, Robert. There’s no way of locking it without removing the key from the other side. I kept telling you to sort the door out.’

‘Maybe Noah—’

‘For God’s sake, he’s not even able to get out of the cot!’

‘Then I’ll have to break the door open. I don’t know what the guests will think.’

‘I can’t believe you’re even thinking about them at a time like this—just do it.’

Robert placed his shoulder against the wood and pushed, but the door barely moved. ‘All right, stand back.’ He raised his shoe and kicked as hard as he could against the lock. The wood cracked a little but held. His third kick split the frame, and at his fourth the door popped open, swinging wide.

The first thing they saw was the window. It had been raised. The white net curtains were apart and billowing, and the rain was soaking the carpet.

‘No,’ said Judith, softly. She ran to the cot and saw the covers thrown back. ‘He’s gone. How could he—’ She turned and searched the floor, panic blinding her.

‘Judith—’ Robert’s sudden command struck a chord of fear. He was standing at the window, looking down into the street. They were on the sixth floor.

She could barely bring herself to walk across the room. When she finally did so and looked to where her husband was pointing, he had to catch her. He was still holding her in his arms when the other guests began to crowd into the room.





John May parked his silver BMW behind the ambulance and alighted, opening the passenger door for his partner. Arthur was no longer allowed to take the driving seat since he had sent Victor, his Mini, straight across the roundabout on the north side of Westminster Bridge, ploughing through the flowerbeds without even noticing, because he was busy explaining the history of Dutch microscopes.

Northumberland Avenue was dank and deserted. The tourists stayed on streets that connected restaurants and theatres. Bryant could smell the chill rush of the river from here. He clutched his hat and looked up into the rain. ‘Sixth floor? Quite a drop.’ Thumping his walking stick against the black railings, he peered down into the basement area, where a woman stood beside a small blue plastic frame that had been pegged to the ground. ‘Body found down there. Poor little bugger. At least it was quick. Who’s securing the place?’

‘Renfield’s already up at the crime site. Janice, Colin and Dan are in the lounge with the guests. Local chap down there. Want to go down?’

‘I’m not good at consoling the bereaved, but I’d better have a look. I hate this part.’

‘Corpses?’

‘No, stairs.’

May opened the gate and led the way down.

‘You took your damned time getting here, didn’t you?’ Robert Kramer had been standing in the rain for almost half an hour, awaiting the senior investigators’ arrival. Judith had refused to leave the spot where her son had fallen. Their guests had been prevented from leaving the flat by an officious bullnecked sergeant. Now Kramer needed someone to vent his anger on.

‘Westminster isn’t our jurisdiction, sir,’ May explained. ‘Your local constabulary felt that the situation would require specialist expertise, and contacted us. I understand how terrible this is for you, and I’ll do everything within my power to make this part bearable, but you must also consider that a crime may have been committed. Perhaps you could come inside now.’