Dead Heat - By Dick Francis & Felix Francis Page 0,107

‘Trust me. I know exactly what’s in my bathroom cabinet and where. I went to get some aspirin and everything had definitely been moved. Only slightly, mind, but I’m sure.’ She looked around again. ‘Max, I’m scared.’

So was I. ‘It’s fine,’ I said, trying to sound calm. ‘There’s no one in there now and no one’s following us.’ I was repeatedly looking in the rear-view mirror to make sure I was right. We pulled down another quiet residential street and I stopped the car. We both looked back. Nothing moved. We waited but no one came round the corner after us.

‘Why would someone have been in my flat?’ she asked. ‘And how did they get in?’

‘Maybe they wanted to find out when you were getting back.’

‘How would they do that?’ she said.

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Perhaps they planted something to tell them.’ It all sounded so James Bondish. It was all so unlikely, but why else would anyone go into the flat?

We drove westward out of London and back on to the M4 motorway. I stopped at the services at Heston, and Caroline called her upstairs neighbour using a pay phone outside while I sat nearby in the car.

‘They said they were sent by the landlords,’ Caroline said, getting back in. ‘Checking for water leaks or something. Mrs Stack, that’s her upstairs, says she let them in all right, but at least she did wait there while they checked the kitchen and bathroom. There were two of them. Well-dressed men and not very old, she said, but she’s half blind and anyone to her is not old if they are under seventy-five. She seems to think that I’m still at primary school. She keeps asking me about my mummy and daddy.’ She rolled her eyes.

‘I wonder how they knew she had a key,’ I said.

‘I asked her that,’ said Caroline. ‘Apparently, they didn’t. Seems they knocked on her door and asked her if she knew where I was. She asked them why they wanted to know, and that’s when they said something about a possible water leak in my flat. That’s when she told them about having a key. Apparently they didn’t bother checking her flat for anything, though.’

‘Then we shall assume that one of them was Mr Komarov, or, at least, that he sent them even if he wasn’t there himself,’ I said. ‘I wonder who the other one was?’

*

By the time we reached East Hendred, my wrist was hurting badly again, and I could hardly keep my eyes open due to tiredness. I had driven down the motorway watching the cars behind me almost as much as the road in front, and Caroline had gone to sleep, in spite of promising she wouldn’t. I, meanwhile, had continually speeded up, then slowed down all the way from London, and had even left the motorway at Reading to go twice round the roundabout at junction n, to ensure that no one was following us.

I wakened Caroline as we approached the village, and Toby came out to meet us as the car scrunched across the gravel driveway in front of the house. It was always a strange experience for me to come back here, my childhood home, to find that it was my brother and his family, rather than my parents, who were the residents. Perhaps it was another of the reasons why Toby and I saw so little of each other.

‘Toby,’ I said, climbing out of the car, ‘may I introduce Caroline, Caroline Aston.’

They shook hands. ‘You’re so alike,’ Caroline said, looking back and forth at us both.

‘No, we’re not,’ I said, purposely sounding offended. ‘He’s much older than me.’

‘And more distinguished,’ said Toby, laughing. He put a hand on my shoulder ‘Come on in, little brother.’

It was as good a greeting as we had shared in years.

I went in through the so familiar front door and was greeted by Sally in the hallway. We kissed, cheek to cheek. Politeness only.

‘Sally,’ I said, ‘how lovely to see you. This is Caroline.’

They smiled at each other and Sally, ever well-mannered, leaned forward for a kiss.

‘Max,’ she said, ‘how lovely.’ I didn’t know whether she meant it was lovely to see me, or whether Caroline was lovely. I didn’t particularly care, just as long as we weren’t fighting. ‘I’m so sorry to hear about your house,’ she said, almost sincerely. ‘And your arm.’ She looked at the end of the cast sticking out below the cuff of my shirt. I smiled