‘Just a quiet word. Friend to friend.’
‘No way, Lottie. Come on, I’ll drive.’
Lottie scrolled through her phone on the way over to Riverfield. If Jennifer O’Loughlin had had any social media accounts, she’d deleted them at some stage. Nor did she appear to have an online footprint. If she turned out to be their murdered woman, she’d get Gary from their technical unit to have a look.
The house was a detached red-brick affair, situated on what seemed to be a settled estate. The houses had been built only thirty years before and the area appeared quiet, with no children out on the footpaths. The lawn hadn’t been mowed in a while and was at odds with the neighbouring gardens, which looked slick and trim. The red door was solid and all the window blinds at the front of the house were closed. A silver Toyota RAV4 hybrid stood in the driveway.
Boyd admired the car. ‘Nice set of wheels.’
‘Cool,’ Lottie said.
Boyd raised an eyebrow. ‘Exactly what Sergio would say.’
She grinned and leaned on the doorbell. It echoed from inside, but otherwise all was silent. Tried again. Same result. ‘Her car’s here but no one’s home.’
‘She might be out for a walk or in town. We can quiz the neighbours if you want, but if we’d checked her out before we left the station, maybe we’d know if she has any friends or family.’
Lottie didn’t respond as she headed around the side of the house. The wooden gate opened easily and led to an overgrown back garden. A set of wicker furniture stood on a raised patio. The concrete underfoot was green from the weather. Potted plants dotted around were in serious need of weeding. Like the front of the house, the rear window blinds were pulled down.
Peering through the frosted glass panel on the back door, she couldn’t make out a thing.
‘She’s not here,’ Boyd said. ‘Let’s go.’
Before she moved away, Lottie depressed the chrome handle, almost falling over as the door opened inwards. She threw a quizzical look towards Boyd.
He shook his head. ‘We have no legal reason to enter.’
‘Her car is out front, the door is open, she hasn’t been seen in a month and we have an unidentified murder victim. In the circumstances, I feel justified.’
She stepped into a large utility room, kitted out with high-end electrical appliances. A row of hooks held only one coat, a navy waterproof, and a pair of boots with dried mud on them stood on the floor beneath it. She opened the internal door and entered a drop-dead-gorgeous kitchen, complete with white quartz worktops and duck-egg-blue cupboards.
‘We should go.’ Boyd shifted from foot to foot.
‘Calm down. Door was open.’ She wasn’t leaving until she’d had a good snoop. ‘We have reason to believe Jennifer O’Loughlin might be our dead woman. Gloves.’
He handed her a pair of gloves and tugged on his own. ‘Okay. Two minutes, then we’re out of here.’
He headed to the hallway and up the carpeted stairs. Lottie made her way into the living room and flicked on a switch.
The room revealed vivid furniture that took her by surprise. Everything was soft and colourful. The wall hangings were nothing more than abstract splashes of paint on canvas that her grandson Louis could have done, but she reckoned Jennifer might have paid a fortune for them. The couch was an invitation to lose yourself, and the low chrome-legged table with its glass top held a stack of what she’d call coffee table books. Not to be read, just admired. A beautiful room, but it didn’t have the feeling of being lived in. There wasn’t a single photo to be seen.
‘Find anything useful up there, Boyd?’
He came down the stairs.
‘Everything seems very impersonal to me. Not much to tell you what the woman is like.’
‘Minimalist is the new fashion.’ But she had to agree with him.
Back in the kitchen, she opened a few cupboards and drawers. No letters or bills. She checked the refrigerator. It held a bottle of wine, a two-litre bottle of sparkling water and a carton of milk.
‘It’s like she packed a bag and left,’ Boyd said.
‘Look at the milk carton. No, don’t smell it! It’s dated four weeks ago.’
‘Maybe she put the house on the market.’
‘Check online to see if it’s listed for sale.’