Page 43 of A Face in the Crowd
‘Hi…?’
I wait on the precipice; one foot in, one out. Nobody comes to interrupt me. If anybody is inside the flat, then they’re hiding. The decision is made, so I step fully inside and turn to take in the apartment. For the most part, it’s a mirror image of mine. There’s one big room, with part of it separated into a kitchenette. The biggest difference is that it’s significantly cleaner and emptier. There’s a sofa and a small wooden table – but that’s it. The floor is covered with the same kind of vinyl that’s on mine – but it’s brighter and newer. The walls are bare: no photographs or other decoration.
After another check that the corridor is clear, I push the door until it’s almost closed behind me and return inside. There is a bed built into the wall, but when I ease it down, it is only a bare mattress. It doesn’t look as if anyone has slept here recently.
I push the bed back into the wall and then spot an Ethernet cable plugged into the wall near the window. The lead has been coiled neatly and left on the bare floor and there’s no sign of whatever it might have been attached to.
The kitchen cupboards and drawers are empty and there are no products in the shower room. I’ve done a full lap of the apartment and arrive back at the door, wondering where the music I’ve heard comes from. All I can think is that it could be somebody’s phone hooked up to a Bluetooth speaker. If it is, then there’s no sign of a speaker here.
I’m about to leave when I remember the one place I’ve missed. If our flats truly are mirrors of one another, then there should be a wardrobe built into the wall close to the shower room. The handle is hidden within a foldaway panel, which wrenches outwards with a low, groaning squeak. The inside is dark and the rack is empty except for a single item which beams bright through the gloom.
It’s so surprising, so striking, that it’s as if I am momentarily paralysed. I stare for a minute, maybe more, until my limbs finally start to work and I reach to remove the coat hanger. On it is dangling a slightly crumpled red anorak.
Melanie’s anorak.
It was the first thing I saw when she was on the park bench the morning after the money dropped into my life. It was there again after I’d been fired and walked out of Crosstown Supermarket in disgrace. It’s been following me around since Saturday morning and, now, here it is in the apparently empty apartment across the hall from where I live.
I remove the coat from the rack and push the wardrobe door closed. It snaps into place but the creaking continues – which is when I realise the front door is opening behind me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘What are you doing in here?’
‘The door was open,’ I say.
Karen nods and steps into the apartment. She is by herself and stares around the empty space before focusing back on me. ‘Empty, isn’t it?’ she says. ‘I told you it was some bloke with a fancy woman. Nobody’s living here. What would they do all day? There’s not even a television.’
I step confidently away from the wardrobe as if it’s totally normal that I’m here.
‘That’s what I thought,’ I say.
Karen does a lap of the sofa and stops to check the Ethernet cable before deciding it’s nothing important. She turns back to me. ‘Mark my words,’ she says, ‘sooner or later, one of us is going to run into him and we’ll find out it’s some rich city banker who’s bringing his women here. Either that, or it’ll be a politician. Probably a Tory. You know what they’re like. They’re all at it. Try and get a photo – theSun’ll give you a few quid.’
She glances towards the red jacket in my hand but says nothing. She either assumes it’s mine or doesn’t care that I’ve pilfered it.
I edge across to the door, ready to leave. Karen’s seemingly going nowhere, though. She sits on the sofa and squidges herself around to get comfortable.
‘Did you hear about Jade?’ she asks.
At first I think she’s talking about what the police told us, but her accompanying sigh doesn’t bode well.
‘What?’ I ask.
‘She was found in a shallow grave out at Dale Park Woods. I found out from one of the girls on the school gates. Her husband’s best friend’s cousin’s half-sister’s husband works as a paramedic and she’s friendly with someone at the police. They reckon it’s a full-blown murder enquiry. They’ve been covering it up, but it’s all going to go public soon.’
Karen’s at her gossipy best but stops for a moment, shocked by her own revelations. ‘Horrible, isn’t it?’ she adds.
I nod, not sure how to reply. ‘Horrible’ feels like a massive understatement.
‘Poor girl,’ I say.
‘I know.’
‘Why would they cover it up?’ I ask.
There’s a pause and then Karen shrugs. ‘Dunno. That’s what I heard.’
Dale Park Woods is around thirty miles away and encompasses a large country park as well as, obviously, a big wooded area. It’s popular in the summer for hikers, dog walkers and children. At this time of year, it’s grim.
