Sleight Malice (22 page)

“Well, she
didn’t!” interjected Desley from the hallway.

“If that’s so,
then that leaves the scenario that your burglar had a key. Think for a minute
about anyone who either has a key or who had access to your keys. I just need a
quick word with the officers.” He motioned Senior Constable Adair away from the
house, his uncommunicative sidekick tagging along behind.

Desley joined
Fergus outside. “Was he serious? Does he really think it’s someone close to
me?”

“Not
necessarily someone you know intimately, but yes, it’s looking more than likely
that the offender used a key to gain access.”

She stared
through him, her eyes blank, her teeth gnawing her bottom lip. Behind her, the
forensics technician dusted black fingerprint powder over the door handle and
surrounds.

Grant returned,
wiping his hands together. “Right then, about those keys. Let’s start with how
many front door keys exist.”

“Four.”

“And you can
account for each of them?”

She opened her
palm. “The spare, one. Two was with my car keys, which are God knows where.
Trent, three. Laura, four.”

“Why does your
ex-husband still have a key?” Grant asked, voicing Fergus’s thoughts.

“I did ask him
for it back, but he told me he’d lost it. I know him and even if by some chance
he had let himself into the house, he wouldn’t have stolen my car. Anyway, it
was a woman who phoned Fergus, not a man.”

“Maybe they
were in it together.”

“Who?”

“Your ex’s
fiancée perhaps?”

“Selena?”

Grant shrugged.
“You tell me. But that aside for a moment, tell me why Laura Noble had a key
and where she kept it.”

“You’re not
suggesting… Now you are being ridiculous!”

“I’m not
suggesting anything. Please just answer the question.”

“We each had a
key to the other’s place. You know, for in case we locked ourselves out or for
some other reason one of us needed to get into the house. Where are you going
with this?”

Grant wrote
something in his notebook. “You still have the key Laura gave you?”

“Yes, I mean
no. It was on my key ring along with all my other keys.” Desley spread her
arms. “It’s not much good to anyone now, though. The house is no more, let
alone the front door.”

Fergus tried
hard not to smile. Grant shot him a warning look.

“Excuse me for
interrupting, sir,” the forensics technician said, appearing at Grant’s side,
“but I’ve finished printing the point of entry. Before I start inside, are
there any specific areas you would prefer I concentrate on?”

“You want me to
tell you how to do your job?”

“No, sir.”

Three bags
full, sir
, Fergus thought.

Her tone
controlled, but the set of her face defiant, she continued. “I only asked as a
courtesy to you.” She paused. “Sir.”

“Noted.” He
turned back to Desley. “Who else besides Trent James and Laura Noble could have
had access to your keys, even for a short time?”

“The only
person I can think of is Brandon, my brother. I usually give him the spare when
he’s here so he can come and go as he pleases.”

“No one else?
Think carefully. It could be a tradesman or some other person you’ve invited
into your home.”

Desley started
to shake her head, but then stopped. “Selena was here Friday night, but I can’t
see how she could’ve got hold of my keys. The only other people I’ve had in the
house recently are—”

“Me,” Fergus
cut in, before Desley could mention Kim. “I was here Friday night.”

Grant’s eyes
narrowed, his gaze flicking to Fergus and back to Desley. “You mentioned
people, plural.”

“Trent. Trent
came to the door after Selena had been here. I talked to him, but I didn’t invite
him in.”

Fergus released
his breath in a long, silent sigh. He had compromised Kim enough. If Grant ever
found out or even suspected his officer had been passing on inside information,
it would be the end of her career. The less he knew about the relationship, the
better.

“If you think
of anyone else, let me know,” Grant said to Desley. “In the meantime Senior
Constable Adair and Constable Nguyen will be talking to your neighbors. Broad
daylight. Someone must have seen something whether they thought it was
suspicious at the time or not.” His coat pocket buzzed. “Give me five,” he
said, moving out of earshot to answer his phone.

Fergus noticed
Desley shivering and propelled her toward the front door, the overlapping
finger and palm prints obvious in the fine black dusting powder near the
opening edge. “Grant can freeze if he wants to.”

Inside was only
marginally warmer. Using his foot, he pushed the door to, far enough to block
the chill air, but not enough to snib the lock.

Desley stood in
the doorway to her home office, arms folded across her chest. “I don’t
understand, Fergus. Why would anyone break-in if not to steal something?”

“Perhaps they
couldn’t find what they were looking for.”

“Yes, but what?
Besides, it doesn’t look like anything’s been touched. And if they were that
fastidious, they wouldn’t have left the front door open like that. I think
whoever it was wanted me to know they’d been here.”

That thought
had crossed Fergus’s mind: a follow-up on the email threat, a reminder to
Desley she wasn’t invincible. “In which case, you should move out for a while.
At least until—”

“What? And let
them win? No bastard is driving me out of my own home.”

“It’s not a
matter of winning or losing. I wish you could see that.” He sighed. “If you
don’t care about what happens to you, think about the people who do. Whether
you like it or not, I’m not letting you stay here on your own until you have
the locks changed, a monitored security system installed and new deadlocks
fitted on all the doors and windows.”

She saluted
him. “Yes, sir!” The twinkle in her hazel eyes faded. “Talking about
monitoring…” Her gaze darted between the door and stairs. “How can I find out
if the police are tapping my phone?”

“Are you
serious?”

“If not mine,
then Helen Escott’s.”

He frowned. “Should
I ask?”

“Earlier today
I went to see Helen. One problem: your police mates were there first. Seems
they knew all about Paul contacting her. And since I was the only one she told
about it, she blames me. Which means that either the police were eavesdropping
or…”

The words hung
unsaid between them.

“Did you tell
Helen you thought she might be being bugged?”

“Of course not.
I wanted to be sure of my facts first. So, is it possible?”

“Oh, anything
is possible. But is it likely?” He scratched his jaw. “They would’ve had to
have had good grounds to apply for a warrant. Grant’s outside; why don’t we
just ask him and see what sort of reaction we get?”

Desley shook
her head. “There must be another way. I can’t have him thinking I’m paranoid on
top of everything else.”

“Okay then,
plan B: I get one of my guys to check out your lines, phones, jacks and wall
outlets. Keep in mind though, that even if he finds nothing, we still can’t be
sure your calls aren’t being intercepted. Surveillance technology is getting
more sophisticated all the time.”

“Knock! Knock!”

“That’s Kim.”
He touched Desley’s forearm. “Leave it with me, okay?”

She nodded, her
dark eyelashes flickering, her eyelids translucent. All the color had leached
from her face.

He greeted Kim.

“Grant’s been called
away, but I do have some good news,” she said with a smile in Desley’s
direction. “Your car’s been recovered.”

Desley’s face
brightened. “Where?”

“Can you
believe parked in a clearway less than two blocks from here?”

“And my bag,
wallet and phone?”

“Except for
your keys it’s all there, but you’ll need to check the contents to be sure.”

Letting out a
loud sigh, Desley backed toward the stairs and sank onto the bottom step,
hugging her knees. “Why abandon the car, but take the keys?”

“Who knows what
goes through some people’s heads. Even if your keys do turn up, you should
still get your locks changed to be on the safe side.”

“I’m amazed you
found it so fast. Thank you.”

“All part of
the service. Your mobile phone helped. We were able to triangulate its position
to within a hundred meter radius.” Kim chuckled. “The local parking inspector
almost beat us to it.”

Desley’s
fingers kneaded her temples, the corners of her mouth remaining downturned. Kim
glanced at Fergus, one eyebrow cocked. He shook his head. He wouldn’t be
laughing either if he were in Desley’s shoes.

“Okay,” Kim
said, “I’ll leave you to it. Where’s the forensics technician hiding?”

Fergus pointed
upstairs. Like a zombie, Desley rose from the bottom step, letting Kim past,
and shuffled toward the kitchen.

He followed. “I
know a good locksmith. I’m sure he’ll be able to fit you in today: he owes me.
Let me ring him, okay?” He scrolled through his phonebook until he found the
number and glanced at Desley.

She nodded,
opened her mouth, and with a shake of her head closed it again.

He pressed Call
anyway. Thomas Black, locksmith extraordinaire, answered on the third ring.

“Yow, Fergus,
me old mate, how’s it hangin’?”

“Good, good. We
must get together for that beer soon, but this isn’t a social call. How busy
are you? Is there any chance you could fit in a job for me?”

“How many beers
was that?”

Fergus laughed.
“If you can do it today, as many as you like.”

“Sold! Pen
ready: give me the details.”

Fergus told him
what was required and gave him the address.

“Number eight,
are you sure?”

“Yes, why?”

“What’s that
sheila doing? That’s the second time I’ve been called to that address today.”

Desley couldn’t believe what she
was hearing. “A woman impersonating me called a locksmith to help her break
into my house?”

Fergus nodded.
“That’s certainly the way it looks. Brazen, I know.”

“That’s one
word for it. Surely they ask for ID before picking someone’s locks.”

“Thomas did,
but she batted her eyelashes at him and spun some story about her handbag being
inside the house. Where a pretty woman is concerned, he’s a pushover. Though,
from what he tells me, it was an envelope with your name and address on it that
swung it.”

She gasped. “So
not only did she enlist the help of your locksmith friend to break-in to my
house, she stole my mail, too? It just gets better and better.”

He gave her a
wry, almost apologetic smile. “What’s more, she was wearing leather gloves, so
dusting for prints is a pointless exercise.”

“Great.”

“Not all is
lost. Thomas is certain he would recognize the woman if he saw her again.”

“And what are
the odds of that, do you suppose?”

“Here, let me
do that.” Fergus removed the open coffee tin from her hands.

She leaned
against the bench, watching but not really seeing what Fergus was doing. Who
was the woman? What did she want with Desley? If the break-in had been meant as
a warning, why hadn’t the house been ransacked, furniture vandalized, anything
less subtle than an ajar door? Why steal her car, if only to abandon it a
couple of blocks away? And the hoax phone call to Fergus: how did the woman
know to call him? Just lucky, or something more calculated?

The rich aroma
of coffee tickled her nostrils. Fergus was waving a cup under her nose as if it
were smelling salts. She blinked and he stopped.

“How did your
locksmith mate describe the woman again?” she asked, taking the cup from him.

“You mean
besides being a bit of alright?”

“Does that mean
she has big boobs?”

He laughed.
“Knowing Thomas, yes.”

“How old did he
think she was?”

“Somewhere
between twenty and forty. He’s not good with ages.”

She rolled her
eyes. “What else did he say about her?”

“Shoulder-length
straight black hair with a long fringe that almost covered her eyes. Now her
eyes, he remembers well. He said they were the most unreal deep blue. However,
in between the hat and scarf she was wearing that’s about all he saw of her
face.”

“Height? And
please don’t tell me he said average.”

Fergus nodded,
the corner of his mouth lifting. “I did manage to pin his average down to a head
shorter than him, which would put her around the 170-centimetre mark, give or
take a few centimeters.”