The Perfect Couple - Jackie Kabler Page 0,40

Was he hiding from somebody? Was he in some sort of trouble that he couldn’t share with his wife, with anybody? Why had he not been using his bank account in recent weeks? And, the biggest question of all in some ways, why was a man who was fairly recently and seemingly happily married popping up on a dating website? Using phone numbers provided by Gemma O’Connor on the missing person information sheet, Mike had managed to speak to a few of Danny’s friends the previous night, and each one had expressed first amusement, and then absolute bafflement, at the very idea of him ‘playing away’ as Mike had delicately put it.

‘As requested, I didn’t mention the EHU app,’ he’d told Devon. ‘But I did ask them if he might ever have been unfaithful to Gemma, if he was a bit of a lad, you know? Emphatic “no” from every one of them. They all said that, like most blokes, he’d had his share of girlfriends and one-night stands in the past, but that as soon as he met Gemma that was it, he was ready to settle down. Interestingly none of them has spoken to him in weeks though – said they assumed he was busy with his new job and the move et cetera. Looks like this low profile he seems to have been keeping extended to his mates too.’

No, none of it made any sense whatsoever, but Devon knew from years of experience that, eventually, it was possible to unravel most mysteries. It was just a matter of perseverance, and that elusive lucky break. As he thought that, the traffic suddenly started moving again, and ten minutes later Frankie was sliding the car into a parking space outside number 10 Homefield Avenue, just off Chiswick High Road.

‘This is it,’ he said. ‘Landlord should be meeting us here with the keys any minute now.’

Number 10 was halfway along a tidy looking Victorian terrace. Period houses lined one side of the street, but the other was a mix of old and ultramodern, and the former home of Danny and Gemma O’Connor was a two-storey, white-painted apartment block with chrome-framed windows and a large number ten in shiny stainless steel fixed to the wall. The railings that separated the property from the street had been painted red, and aluminium planters filled with yellow crocuses lined the short path to the front door.

‘Nice place,’ muttered Devon.

‘Gents? Good morning!’

There was a tap at the passenger side window, making him jump. He turned to see a short, rotund man in a black leather jacket, the zip straining over a rounded belly. He was clutching a large bunch of keys, which he waved at Devon.

‘I’m Edgar Evans, the landlord?’ he said loudly.

Devon and Frankie got out of the car, and for the next thirty seconds or so were subjected to a monologue delivered in a broad Welsh accent by a slightly breathless, pink-cheeked Edgar Evans.

‘I’ve not been in at all since they left – been on a few weeks’ holiday. I wasn’t worried though – they were model tenants, the O’Connors. Place was always immaculate when I popped round, not that I did very often, I’m not that sort of landlord, but you know, if they ever had a problem, the boiler playing up or something. Oh yes, good tenants, the O’Connors. They’ll have left it spick and span, no doubt about that. Now that I’m back, a quick fresh coat of paint and maybe a carpet clean and it’ll be ready for some new renters. I’ve got two nice big apartments here, one upstairs and one down, the downstairs people moved out just before the O’Connors so I thought it was a good time to smarten the whole place up, you know? I was sorry to hear about Mr O’Connor going missing though. That’s a worry, isn’t it? Anything I can do to help … shall we go in then?’

‘Please,’ Devon said, with some relief, as Frankie smirked beside him. Moments later, Mr Evans was sliding a key into the front door and pushing it open, kicking aside a large pile of envelopes on the doormat.

‘Bloody junk mail,’ he said. He turned to the two officers and proffered a key, holding it clear of the rest of the bunch.

‘You go on, do what you have to do. It’s the upstairs apartment you want. I’ll just clear this lot and then join you.’

Devon thanked him, took the keys and led the way up the

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