The Good Thief's Guide to Christmas (Good Thief's Guides) by Chris Ewan

Author:Chris Ewan [Ewan, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-11-24T22:00:00+00:00

10

It was still a terrible idea at three in the morning. By that time, the police presence had been dramatically reduced. Forensics officers had been inside to dust and check for whatever they dusted and checked for. Crime scene photographs had been taken. Alistair’s body had been carried outside in a body bag and driven away. The detectives had left, the crowds had dispersed and now there were only three uniformed officers left; two at the front of the house, one at the rear.

The officers at the front of the house were hunkered down in their Hi Vis jackets, chatting companionably and stamping their feet on the ground for warmth. They barely looked my way when the black cab I was in pulled up at a house three doors down. Victoria and I had been keeping an eye on all the nearby properties throughout the evening and long into the night. This one had remained in darkness during that time. We were as sure as we could be that it was empty.

As I stepped out of the cab and approached the front door, I looked, I hoped, like any another late night reveller getting home from a Christmas party –– a little tipsy, a little unsteady on my feet, and a little clumsy getting my key in the lock.

Obviously I didn’t have a key but my picks worked just as well, and once I was in I flicked on the hallway lights and raced up the stairs. The place was definitely empty. It was a magnificent house that would have made for a fine place to spend Christmas in but my guess was the owners had an even finer place somewhere out in the country for that. They also had a rear attic window that gave me access to the flat roof at the top of their home. I was beginning to develop a real appreciation for all the flat rooftops in London linking all the terraced properties together. This one took me as far as the rear sash window in the attic of Alistair’s home, which I was able to unlock using a palette knife without drawing the attention of the police officer down below me, and then I was inside and creeping down the stairs.

It was ghostly quiet. When I reached the first floor I could smell a chemical taint on the air that I guessed came from all the fingerprint powder and forensic sprays that had been applied around liberally. I was careful not to touch any of it, even in my gloves, and I was even more careful when I ducked under the crime scene tape that criss-crossed the doorway to the front living room and began my search.

I had to search without my penlight, but that was OK. The curtains hadn’t been drawn, and the street lighting outside was powerful enough to give me some ambient light to work from, but more than that, the Christmas tree lights had been left on.

I moved around in their soft twinkle, stepping everywhere except where Alistair’s body had been.

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