The Hard Way Duncan Brockwell (romance book recommendations .TXT) 📖

Hayes nodded, hands behind her back. “Nice. No offence taken, by the way. I’ve got thicker skin than that. Nothing you can say will hurt me.”

It was a load off. She wouldn’t tell anyone, but she regretted snapping. “After you!” She let Hayes off first. Her partner handed her the keys to their requisitioned Peugeot in the car park. Miller didn’t mind driving.

On their way to Henry Curtis’ gated mansion, she thought about Luke again. The previous night he’d called on her about half eight, carrying a takeaway Chinese. Miller did not have the heart to tell him Chinese was her least favourite, being too greasy. She still ate her plateful.

“He came over to yours last night, did he?”

Miller stared at Hayes. “Huh?”

“You’re grinning away to yourself. Luke came to yours, or did you go over to his?” Hayes grinned, waiting.

“Fine! If you have to know, we’re seeing each other. And he came to mine with a Chinese. Any other questions?” Miller smiled, making sure her partner knew her irritation was only by half. “You never quit, do you?”

“I’m famous for it,” Hayes replied. “Like a dog with a bone, me. And I’m glad for you. It’s about time you had some luck in love.” Hayes turned and looked out of the passenger window. “I’m happy for you. I mean, you know my thoughts on Walker, but I’m not the one going out with him.”

Pulling up at traffic lights, Miller stared at her passenger. “And you’d be wrong. He’s not a poser. If anything, he’s the opposite; he has self-esteem issues. And he works bloody hard for that body, why shouldn’t he show it off?”

That shut her up, Miller thought, accelerating past the lights towards Henry Curtis’ place around the corner. She noticed there was a camera on top of the lights.

It took a couple of minutes to pull up outside the open gates to Curtis’ home. “Why are these open?” Miller passed the gates and drove along the gravelly driveway.

“I don’t know. Something’s not right.” Hayes opened her door as the car slowed.

Miller parked behind a car she took to be Charlotte Edwards’, with the woman still in the driver’s seat.

“Why hasn’t Mrs Edwards gone inside?” Hayes asked, getting out of the Peugeot.

Miller switched off the engine and joined Hayes, who tried to calm Mrs Edwards. “What’s going on?”

Mrs Edwards was crying as she spoke. “Something’s happened. I can’t get through to Henry.”

24

“I told you one of us should’ve stayed with him last night.” Charlotte Edwards waved at Hayes to give her a second or two to finish her phone call. “Thanks a lot, Richard. You’ve been a big help.” She hung up and greeted the officers. “He’s not answering his mobile. There’s something wrong, I know it. Henry would never leave his gate open like that. Please, help. Can’t you do something?”

Miller put her mobile to her ear. “We’ll try his phone. He has a landline number, too, doesn’t he?”

“I’ve already tried both, several times. What makes you think he’ll answer you and not me? Can’t you knock the door down? I know something’s happened. We should’ve stayed with him last night, or had him stay at mine.”

She would never forgive herself if something had happened to him. The longer he remained silent, the more likely it was they would find him dead inside his house. Desperate, she pleaded with the lead detective.

“I’ve tried both numbers. Straight to voicemail.” Miller put her phone back in her suit jacket. “Shall we have a nosy round the back?”

In her state, Charlotte hadn’t even thought about that. “Yeah, great idea. Henry doesn’t smoke indoors. He has his cigars out on the patio.” She tried his mobile for a sixth time, while following the two detectives round the side of the large house.

“Kitchen,” she said to the taller detective, who tried the door handle. It wouldn’t open. “Keep going. There’s a patio door at the back.” When Henry’s phone went straight to voicemail, she hung up and carried it. They approached the rear glass door. “There it is.” She prayed Henry had left it unlocked.

When she arrived on the patio, there were two thin Café Crème cigar butts in the ashtray sat atop the ornate wrought-iron garden table. His Zippo lighter was on top of his tin of Café Cremes. Seeing the lighter triggered fear. “Henry wouldn’t leave his lighter like that. It’s precious to him. His dad gave it to him years ago.”

Miller put her hand on the sliding patio door and yanked it, as it slid to the right. “We’re in luck.”

“Nice. Miller, do you mind going and getting the evidence kit, please,” Hayes ordered to a nod from Miller.

“Why aren’t we going inside? He’s probably right in there.”

“In case this is a crime scene, Mrs Edwards. If something has happened to your brother-in-law, we need to document everything as we find it. We can’t contaminate the area, do you understand? So, we’ll wait for my partner to return with the kit, okay?”

Going out of her mind with worry, Charlotte wanted to march on in there and find him. A part of her said not to worry, that he’s probably fast asleep upstairs. But the larger part thought something terrible had happened. Call it intuition, whatever.

Detective Miller returned with a bag over her shoulder. Hayes and Miller put on blue latex gloves. “If you’re coming in, put these on. Touch nothing, until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Hayes went inside first, pulling back the net curtain. “Mr Curtis. It’s the police. Call out if you’re here.”

Charlotte waited for Miller to enter. When Charlotte stepped inside the lounge, the television was on quietly in the background. Henry had it on Sky News.

“There’s a note here.” Miller read it out loud: “Sorry! And his signature.”

“Wait! Let me see that.” Charlotte stood next to her and read it for herself. Her urgency to find him increased. She wanted to rush upstairs, but she had to wait