The Candidate: A Luxembourg Thriller (Kindle Single) by Daniel Pembrey

Author:Daniel Pembrey [Pembrey, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-12-08T20:00:00+00:00

By seven I was back at my apartment building. I slowed as I approached, looking up at the opposite side of Avenue de la Liberté.

I looked back at my own building and then at the one opposite again. The day before, the police had visited Mme Doriot, following up on the complaint about me rescuing Mischa from the roof. The complainant must live in the top apartment; it was the only one with a view over the wall-head gutter of my building. What else might he or she have seen? Something on Saturday night as well, perhaps? My shutters had been closed the following morning, but they wouldn’t have been when I got back there with my female companion.

I crossed the street and rang the top bell of the opposite building. There was no response, so I tried the concierge’s office.

‘Oui?’ a soft, male voice said.

‘Do you speak English?’

‘Yes, a little.’

‘I need to talk to the occupant of the top-floor apartment.’

‘Who is this?’

‘I live opposite. Could I come in?’ I didn’t want to have this conversation in the street.

The door clicked open and I entered a large lobby. As the light switched on, I saw that it was stripped bare. There was plastic sheeting on the floor, bearing the logo Daleiden.

A young man appeared, fresh-faced and clear-eyed. He had an entrepreneurial air about him. The property developer, perhaps?

‘Could I talk to the person in the top apartment?’

‘It is empty. The building is being renovated.’

Who had called the police, then?

‘No one is living there?’ I confirmed.

‘No. It is not available for another three months.’

‘Perfect, that’s when I need another place to rent. Looks like a great location and view. Could I see it?’

He walked away.

‘Just for five minutes!’ I called after him. ‘My company’s given me a very generous housing allowance!’

I didn’t know whether to wait or not, but thankfully he returned with a set of keys. We took the wide stairs up, which were also bare. Wires sprouted from the walls; the light shone from hanging bulbs and created crazy, latticed shadows through the original iron railings.

We got to the apartment and he opened the door. Inside, it was dark and empty, the smooth parquet floor ponded by pale light; it took him a few seconds to find the light switch.

I made my way over to the windows of the main room, which were blocked by roller blinds. Most buildings in Luxembourg had them and they were usually electrically operated. These blinds had the old straps that you hauled manually; the view opposite revealed itself as I pulled one, the edges of the thick strap burning my hands.

I was looking directly across into my apartment. My hunch had been right: this was the only apartment that could see over the wall head and into my place. The apartment below this one would not have the right angle.

‘No one has been here?’ I looked around. It was an empty shell; there was no evidence of inhabitation, temporary or otherwise.

‘No,’ he said quizzically.

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