Page 74 of Not That Complicated

CHAPTER TWENTY

I permitted Liam to driveme after all, although first I made him go and park two streets away while I jogged down the short alley between the Co-op and the florists, and I refused to get in until there were no witnesses

“Huh,” I said when we pulled up outside my house. Liam put on the handbrake and switched off the engine. I peered out the window. “I was expecting more drama.”

There weren’t any hoardings or plastic sheets. No barriers. No cordons. No large signs declaring MURDER MURDER CRIME STAY BACK MURDER. It hadn’t been tented or anything. A couple of strips of blue and white tape formed an X over my front door, and there was a police patrol car parked in the drive.

It was a bit disappointing.

“What kind of drama were you expecting?” Liam turned to me.

“I don’t know. Something like that bit at the end ofE.T.when they tent the place. Hazmat suits all round. You know.”

“We found two mummified bodies, Ray, not aliens. And the property has changed hands multiple times since it’s estimated these guys died. There is a limit to what we’re likely to be able to collect, in terms of forensic evidence. Now, if I’d found you standing over fresh victims with a bloody axe, we’d be a bit pickier about preserving the scene.”

“If I murdered someone, you’d never know. I’d be straight down to the hardware store for an XXL storage tub and enough extra-absorbent cat litter for a panther with a nervous bowel.”

Liam stared at me.

“I am so innocent,” I said. “Of all crime.”

“Hmm.”

Now would be a good time to move the conversation on. “How are you going to search for more bodies?” I asked. “Are you going to rip up all the floors?”

I’d said I was going to burn it down, but I hadn’t meant it. We were going through a rough patch right now, but I loved my little house. I didn’t want to see it torn apart.

More importantly, before I let anyone start taking it apart, I wanted some reassurance that it would all be put back together again.

“A few boards will be lifted,” Liam said.

“You’re not going to go all Miley Cyrus on it, are you?” At his blank look, I added, “Like a wrecking ball?” I hummed a few bars.

He grimly waited for me to stop before he said, “If I recall, you were threatening to do that exact same thing yourself about ten minutes ago.”

“It’s my house, though.”

Liam opened his door and got out. I followed. It hadn’t escaped my notice that there had been no clarity on the wrecking ball situation.

A uniformed officer was sitting in the patrol car, which blocked the door to the garage. In theory, you could fit another car in there, but in practice it was stuffed with old canvases from art college I never wanted anyone to see, gym equipment I never used, and the entire contents of my great aunt’s tiny house.

When Aunt Alicia died three years ago, I was foolish enough to agree to help my dad clear her house in Banbury and prep it for sale. Dad had interpreted that as me agreeing to have him and his buddy, Marley, show up in a work van with all of Aunt Alicia’s possessions, from her clothes to her furniture, crammed in the back. Despite my protests, he’d unloaded it into my garage, told me I could go through it at my leisure—it’ll be like a fun new hobby, Raymond—and if I managed to sell anything, I should feel free to go ahead and keep the proceeds.

Needless to say, I hadn’t got around to it yet.

Maybe now was the time to start.

I might need the money.

The young police officer inside the car was staring fixedly ahead. If he was aware of us, he showed no signs of it.

“Is he asleep?” I asked Liam as we drew level with the car.

Liam banged on the window. The officer flinched wildly and smacked the horn.

“Not anymore,” Liam said. He tipped his head toward the front door. “Come on.”

The officer slumped, wide-eyed, in his seat, a hand pressed to his chest.

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