‘Eight or ten days,’ Francesca repeated.
‘I assume you’ve been upstairs to check?’ The two women looked at Rebus. ‘You can get into the house?’ he persisted.
‘Yes, we can,’ Francesca said softly.
‘Could we maybe go take a look, then?’ Rebus requested.
‘He’s not there,’ Warbody stated. ‘We would have heard him.’
Francesca was reaching towards a hook on the wall. She lifted down two keys, mortise and Yale. ‘Here we are,’ she said.
Rebus’s eyes were on Warbody. ‘There isn’t a door behind that curtain?’ he asked, gesturing.
‘It’s locked from the other side.’
‘Why?’
She offered a shrug. ‘Anthony likes his privacy.’ Then: ‘He really won’t like it that we’ve taken a stranger inside.’
‘I won’t tell him if you don’t.’ Rebus’s wink was aimed at Francesca. She giggled, holding her hands over her mouth.
‘Let’s get on with it then,’ Warbody said with a sigh of defeat.
They climbed back up to street level and through the main gate. Both keys needed to be used. There was an alarm pad on the wall inside the front door, but Warbody knew the code.
Rebus had bent to pick up some mail from the floor.
‘Put it with the rest,’ Warbody said. There was an inch-high pile on an occasional table. Rebus sifted through it. ‘Enjoying yourself?’ she asked coldly. Francesca had padded into the room with the TV, but emerged again seconds later and headed down the hall. Warbody followed, Rebus bringing up the rear. They entered an extension to the original house. It was a bright kitchen, with sliding glass doors leading to a patio and steps down into the garden. An ashtray and wine glass sat on a small outdoors table. The kitchen itself was immaculate.
‘Does Mr Brough have a cleaner?’
‘Wednesday mornings,’ Warbody confirmed.
‘So the wine glass means...?’
‘It means someone needs to have a word with her about standards.’
They paused and watched as Francesca opened the sink’s mixer faucet and then shut it off again, only to repeat the process. Warbody approached and placed the palm of her hand against the small of Francesca’s back. It was enough. Francesca’s arms fell to her sides and her face took on a look of contrition.
‘Can we go upstairs?’ Rebus asked.
‘Yes, let’s!’ And Francesca bounded out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time.
Two bedrooms and a large study. The bedrooms looking out over Ann Street, the study tucked away at the rear of the property. In the upstairs hall, Rebus looked for evidence of further floors, but he’d seen everything.
‘He was meaning to renovate the attic,’ Warbody offered, as if reading his mind. ‘But it’s not happened yet.’
‘We loved attics when we were young,’ Francesca blurted out.
‘I’m not seeing an answering machine,’ Rebus said, looking around.
‘There isn’t even a telephone — Anthony didn’t feel the need.’
‘You’ve called his mobile? Sent him texts?’
‘A couple of times,’ Warbody admitted. ‘Not because we’re worried, just to see if he wanted to join us for a meal or a trip into town.’
‘You still don’t think it’s unusual not to get a reply?’
‘He could be breaking the bank at Monte Carlo.’ Warbody gave a shrug.
‘Or pigging out at the Caledonian,’ Francesca added. ‘He likes to eat and drink there.’
‘Any special reason?’ Rebus asked her.
‘It’s handy for his office,’ Warbody interrupted.
‘Plus,’ Francesca went on, ‘it’s where she was killed.’
‘You mean Maria Turquand?’
The young woman’s eyes widened. ‘You know about her?’
‘I take an interest in old cases. Your brother’s interested too?’
‘Look, Inspector,’ Warbody said, manoeuvring herself between Rebus and Francesca, ‘we’d help you if we could, but there’s really nothing we can do.’ She noticed that Francesca was dancing back down the stairs again, so made to follow. The two women were waiting by the front door as Rebus reached the hall.
‘I appreciate your assistance,’ he told Warbody. He took out his phone. ‘I’ve given you my contact number — do you mind if I take yours?’
‘Why?’
‘In case I need to get in touch — saves me having to come back in the flesh.’
She saw the sense of this, so reeled off the number while Rebus entered it into his phone.
‘Thanks again,’ he said.
The net curtain across the way was twitching again as the two women headed for their own bolthole. Rebus called out to Warbody, who, after a moment’s reluctance, joined him.
‘I take it Mr Brough pays your salary?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘I work for Francesca. Sir Magnus made sure she was comfortable.’
‘She got half the estate?’
‘Not quite, but she got as much as her brother. And unlike Anthony, she’s not a gambler.’
‘He gambles?’
‘Isn’t that what all investment comes down to? No gain without risk.’
‘I suppose so.’ He thanked her with a nod and watched her march down the steps and close the door after her. As he walked towards his parked car, he saw another directly behind it. Malcolm Fox emerged.
‘Fancy meeting you here,’ Fox drawled.
‘Great minds, Malcolm.’
‘He’s not at home, then?’
‘His sister is, though.’
‘Oh?’
‘She lives in the downstairs flat, looked after by a woman called Warbody.’
‘How did she seem?’
‘The sister? Away with the bloody fairies.’
‘I’ve just been discussing her with a—’
But Rebus interrupted him with a gesture. ‘Let’s continue this in my office.’ He nodded towards the Saab. ‘I just want to make a quick call first.’
When they were seated with the doors closed, Rebus phoned Molly Sewell, identifying himself and saying he had a quick question for her. He had put the phone’s speaker on so that Fox could listen.
‘Go ahead then,’ she said.
‘You told us you’d been to your employer’s home and put a note through his door. I’ve just been in there, and I didn’t see any note.’
‘Maybe you didn’t look hard enough.’
‘I looked,’ Rebus stated.
‘Then someone must have moved it — maybe the cleaner.’
‘Or Alison Warbody,’ Rebus commented, listening to the ensuing silence on the line. ‘Why didn’t you mention that Francesca Brough lives directly beneath her brother?’
‘I didn’t want you bothering her. You’ve seen her?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then it can’t have escaped your notice that she’s incredibly fragile.’
‘I managed to spend ten minutes with her without snapping a piece off.’
‘What an unfeeling thing to say.’
‘I did score pretty low on sensitivity at the police college. But it’s not up to you to decide what we’re allowed to—’
‘John,’ Fox interrupted.
Rebus broke off and stared at him.
‘She’s rung off,’ Fox explained. Rebus studied his phone’s screen and cursed under his breath.
‘Your turn then,’ he said, leaning back in the driver’s seat.
Fox filled him in on the chat with Wilbur Bennett. Rebus took a few moments to digest everything he’d heard, then shook his head slowly.
‘The whole family’s something else,’ he concluded.
‘You think they’re protecting Anthony,’ Fox stated.
‘Don’t you?’
Fox nodded. ‘What’s more, I know why.’
Rebus half turned towards him. ‘Go on.’ But then he had another thought, and tapped at the screen of his phone once more, with the speaker still active.