sceptically.
‘I mean, it took a bit of effort, but it was definitely open. Eventually.’
After a moment’s indecision, Richard pushed past Dwayne into the house, his interest in Pierre’s whereabouts drawing him in. After all, if the back door really were open, they could claim that they were investigating the security of the house as a matter of community policing. If Dwayne had broken in, then that was something he’d have to explain to a tribunal if it ever came to that.
As Richard looked about himself, he saw that the house was shabby, and was only furnished with the bare minimum. He saw a little sidetable with an ashtray and packet of cigarettes and matches next to it. There was also a bottle of beer that Richard saw was half full.
Pulling on a pair of crime scene gloves, Richard went into the kitchen at the back of the house and saw a brown paper bag on the worktop. Inside there were a few basic groceries, none of them unpacked. And from the smell coming from the bag, Richard guessed that it had been sitting out in the heat.
There was also a see-through folder to the side of the groceries that contained all the literature from the prison explaining the ups and downs following a spell inside. Richard also found an open brown envelope, and he used his pencil to raise the flap so he could see its contents. It was full of what looked to be about a hundred dollars in low denomination notes.
‘He left in a hurry, didn’t he?’ Camille said from the doorway. ‘He’s not even finished his beer.’
‘That’s what it looks like to me,’ Richard agreed. ‘And, from the state of his food here, I don’t think he was here for very long.’
‘So what happened?’ Dwayne asked.
Richard looked about himself. There were no signs of a struggle. In fact, it looked as though Pierre had only just popped out for a few minutes. As Richard went back into the front room, he half expected to find a cigarette still smouldering in the ashtray.
‘Dwayne,’ he said, ‘I want you to bag the physical evidence.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘As for you and me, Camille, I think we’ve got a lead to follow up.’
‘We have, sir?’
A few moments later, Richard and Camille had gone to the house next door where Richard had seen the curtain twitching. Having knocked loudly on the door, they soon heard a shuffling of feet from inside the house.
‘Hold on, hold on,’ a voice called out.
The door opened to reveal an ancient woman who was almost entirely bent over, and seemed only to be kept upright by a claw-footed hospital walking stick that she was gripping firmly in her right hand.
She lifted up her head, and Richard could see that her eyes were cloudy.
‘Are you the Police?’ the woman asked.
‘We are,’ Camille said. ‘We just wanted to ask you a few questions about your neighbour.’
‘What neighbour?’
‘The man who moved into the house next door three days ago,’ Richard said. ‘I’m sure you saw him.’
‘I didn’t,’ the woman said before retreating from the door and trying to shut it. ‘I can’t help you.’
Richard put his hand out to stop the door from closing.
‘But you see everything around here, don’t you? I saw you checking us over when we arrived.’
‘And there’s been quite a serious crime committed,’ Camille said, far more kindly. ‘If you could give us any help, we’d be so very grateful.’
The old woman considered her answer for a moment, and then she sighed.
‘Alright. What do you want to know?’
‘Did you see the man who moved into the house three days ago?’
The woman laughed with a wet cackle.
‘I don’t see anything. Can’t you tell?’
The woman made an extra effort to lift her head, and indicated her cloudy eyes.
‘Is it your cataracts?’ Camille asked.
‘Everything’s a blur to me now.’
‘But you were spying on us,’ Richard said, unable to keep the note of disapproval from his voice.
‘I was robbed last year. I have to be careful.’
‘So you can see some things.’
‘I can’t see much, but I know where you are.’
‘Then did you see someone move in three days ago?’
‘I did. A taxi arrived in the morning. I could tell it was a taxi from the colour. It was deep red. And a man got out. I heard him thank the taxi driver. It was a man’s voice.’
‘And he went into the house next door?’
‘You know, the prison use it for people who are just released from jail?’
‘They do?’ Camille asked innocently.
‘So you get all kinds of goings on. I don’t like it. But I’m old, no-one cares what I think.’
‘Do you remember what time this was?’ Richard asked.
‘I don’t know. It was in the morning. Maybe after eleven? It was before I’d had lunch, and I always have lunch at midday.’
‘And what did this man do once he’d arrived?’
‘Well, nothing that I know of.’
‘Nothing?’
‘He went into his house, and I didn’t think about him again until that afternoon.’
‘Well, that’s very helpful, thank you,’ Camille said. ‘Although, why did you think about him that afternoon?’
‘Because of the men who came to see him.’
‘What’s that?’ Richard asked.
‘Well, I was sitting on the porch in the afternoon when I saw a car arrive. I don’t know what sort it was, before you ask, it parked too far away. It was just a blur. But I saw three men come from it and then go into the house next door.’
‘And you’re sure there were three of them?’
‘Oh yes. I could see the shapes of three people.’
‘And they were all men?’
‘I heard three voices. They were all male. In fact, they were arguing as they approached.’
‘Do
