Paris Love Match - By Nigel Blackwell Page 0,31

always got to be different. It’d need—

He dived for the cupboard under the sink and pulled out the metal bar. Its two points fit the bolt, and he rotated it as fast as he could. The remaining contents of the cabinet fell out, splashing toilet water down his jeans. He twisted on.

The voices were heading up the stairs. He heard calls for a fingerprinting kit and a photographer.

The first bolt fell out and he went for the second. The cabinet rocked on the wall and the bolt wobbled about. The lever slipped off, his hands slick with sweat. He reseated it and turned frantically. The cabinet sagged forward, obscuring his view of the bolt. He used his forearm to push the structure back onto the wall, but then he couldn’t move the bolt properly.

He heard footsteps climbing the old wooden stairs.

He flipped the lever over to his right hand so he could hold the cabinet with his left, but lost hold of the lever. It crashed into the toilet bowl and clattered into the water.

The footsteps stopped.

Shit! He grabbed the cabinet and wrestled it back and forth, levering it away from the half-removed bolt. The wood splintered and cracked. He twisted the cabinet to one side. There was a compartment behind the cabinet with a small black plastic bag in the rear corner

The footsteps resumed, faster this time and accompanied by shouting.

He grabbed the bag and ran for the kitchen fire escape. The latches were stiff and dug into his fingers as he pried them open. The window creaked as he slid it up. He threw himself through the opening, not caring about the state of the rusty metalwork, and pulled the window down.

The steps were narrow and doubled back on themselves with each floor. He bounded down, two at a time, bending his knees to mute the sound of his steps. Only when he reached the second floor did he realize the bottom two floors of the stairs were missing.

He looked down. It was a long drop. Didn’t the French have bloody fire regulations? He cursed whoever had taken the last steps and considered hanging by his arms to get low enough to jump without breaking anything. He looked again. It would still be ten feet to the sidewalk.

He was beside a window. Inside was another kitchen. He kicked hard and the glass disintegrated around his foot. He stamped on the bigger of the jagged pieces that were left in the frame before squeezing through the gap.

His shoes crunched on the broken glass. The apartment was identical to Auguste’s, only the owner wasn’t as fastidious about cleaning up. A dog stared at him from a basket in the corner. The room smelled worse than Piers. The dog wagged its tail and bounded over. Piers swept him up to keep his paws from the broken glass. The dog licked his face and Piers tried to wrestle him into a different position, one that kept his breath as far away as possible.

He ran for the door and tossed the animal onto the couch on the way. The dog bounded off the couch, and beat Piers to the front door, its lead in its mouth.

“No, stay here.”

The dog bounced up and down.

Piers pushed the dog away and listened at the door. It was quiet. He clicked the lock and opened it an inch. There was no sign of anyone on the landing. Restraining the dog with his foot he stepped out. Before he had closed the door, the dog bolted past him and down the stairs. Piers gave chase, using his hands on the bannisters to leap five or six steps at a time. He reached the hallway at the bottom and his shoes slapped onto the marble floor. Two police officers at the door turned. The dog barked and dived between them.

“Stop him!” Piers said, shoving through the police officers and running flat out after the dog.

The dog went away from where he’d told Sidney to wait, but he didn’t care. He ran after it, calling, “stop,” and praying that it didn’t.

After two blocks, the dog came to an abrupt halt by a gate into a park. He looked up at Piers, wagging his tail and shaking the leash in his teeth. Piers looked behind him and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the officer hadn’t followed.

He hooked the leash to the dog’s collar. The park wasn’t that big, but perhaps he could tie the dog to a tree.