The House Guest - Mark Edwards Page 0,62

or notes. Proof that Jack knew her. Anything I could take to Krugman.

I started to pull open the desk drawers, inspecting anything that looked interesting. There were old bills, subway tickets, drafts of papers Jack had been working on. I searched inside books, checked that there was nothing taped to the underside of the drawers. I looked all around for hidey-holes.

But there was nothing useful. Nothing to suggest that Jack had had a secret life at all.

I put everything back in the drawers. I needed to go upstairs to look for Jack’s laptop, try to guess the password. I also knew it wasn’t too hard to unlock a MacBook. There were guides online.

I took a last look around – and heard a creak above my head.

I froze.

The creaking sound came again, followed by a series of duller sounds, heading towards the back of the house. Footsteps.

Somebody was up there.

The footsteps continued, passing over my head. Then they stopped. From what I could tell, they were by the back door.

A car went past outside, and someone yelled something on the street, drowning out the sounds in the building.

I strained to hear. Was it Mona? How exactly was I going to explain what I was doing down here? I couldn’t tell her I’d left something behind and had come back to get it, because we had been told not to come into the apartment. I was going to have to tell her everything I’d found out.

Except the footsteps sounded too heavy to be Mona. Too heavy to be Eden too. She had always walked around like a cat, silent and stealthy.

It’s the person who killed Jack, said a voice in my head. The real killer. Or the men who killed Brandon.

I ran to the front door, but it was locked from the inside and I only had the key to the back door.

The footsteps came down the steps towards the apartment.

I looked around for somewhere to hide. Could I squeeze in behind the boxes? I tried to pull some of them away from the wall but they were heavy and I didn’t have time. I remembered the knife in my backpack and threw the bag to the floor, kneeling and fumbling to open it.

The back door opened.

Detective Dennis Krugman stepped through.

‘Oh, thank God,’ I said.

He shook his head slowly. He seemed disappointed in me, like I was a teenager who had been caught smoking again.

‘You should have gone home, Adam,’ he said, raising his gun.

Chapter 28

The man, who Ruth assumed to be the person in charge here, released her from his embrace and stepped back. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air between them and he beamed, showing a set of perfect teeth, almost certainly veneers. There was something familiar about him, but maybe it was just that he reminded her of Jack. He had that same look: the youthful, handsome academic. Or a tech billionaire.

He spoke to Eden. ‘You can go,’ he said, closing the door behind her. Then he turned his attention back to Ruth. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’

‘No, not really . . .’ The resolve she’d felt just ten minutes ago was fading. She struggled to bring the feeling back. ‘I was just saying to Eden, it’s time for me to go. I’m really grateful to everyone here for looking after me but I have so much to sort out.’

‘I understand. Where are you planning to go? Back home?’

‘No. California.’

‘Ah, Hollywood. Of course.’ He went over to the window. ‘Man, I can never get enough of this view. It’s quite something, isn’t it?’

‘Er, yes. But I’d quite like to be back at street level again.’

He laughed like this was one of the best jokes he’d ever heard. ‘Down there among the dirt and the noise and all the traffic fumes? I love this city but I’ve got to tell you, I like it best up here. I can see everyone. Everything. The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples, the great globe itself.’

‘The Tempest, Act Four, Scene One.’

He showed his shiny teeth again. They appeared to glow. ‘My favourite of all the Bard’s great works. I wish I could have seen your Miranda.’

Ruth was taken aback. ‘You know about that?’

‘Of course. I’ve been following your career with enormous interest.’ She noticed that his accent was from outside New York. A trace of the South, though she wasn’t an expert. ‘I was so looking forward to seeing you on Broadway. Sally Klay.’ He tutted. ‘I