Chapters (58)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Forty-five
- Forty-six
- Forty-seven
- Forty-eight
- Forty-nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-one
- Acknowledgements
- An Eastbourne Murder Mystery
- Canelo Crime
- About the Author
- Also by Sheila Bugler
‘I don’t think we’ve got a choice. We need to get him to speak to us. Find out who he is and what he knows about Annie.’
Back at the building, Leonard decided to try the stairs. But by the time they’d reached the second floor, it was clear he wasn’t going to make it to the sixth. His breathing had become laboured, his face red from the effort of making it this far.
‘Sorry,’ he wheezed.
‘It’s okay.’ Dee put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Really. Head back down to the ground floor when you’ve got your breath back. I’ll be down as soon as I can.’
As she continued without him, she became aware of the smell. A rich scent of ginger, citrus and sandalwood. It reminded her of something, although she was almost at the top before she realised what it was. Her father, when he was still alive, had always had a thing for expensive colognes. That’s what she was smelling now. Dee wondered how someone living in a place like this could afford expensive scents. Then she realised the person wearing the cologne was most likely a visitor to the building, just like she was.
By the time she reached the top, she felt ready to collapse. The heat in the stairwell hadn’t helped. Sweating profusely, she pushed open the door and stepped into the relative cool of the corridor.
It was a dank, dingy space. Narrow and long, with doors so close together she guessed the flats behind them were tiny. The only break in the gloom was the light coming from the open doorway of one of the flats further along the corridor.
When she’d got her breath back, Dee started walking, using the numbers on the doors as a guide. She was almost at the open door now. Counting the numbers, she realised the open door belonged to the flat she was looking for.
Her fight or flight instinct kicked in, flight winning over as every nerve in her body screamed at her to turn around and get the hell out of there. Somehow, she kept going, driven by the urge to find the truth – however terrible it turned out to be.
‘Hello?’
She’d reached the door. It wasn’t fully open, but enough for her to glimpse the flat inside. A TV, sound muted, was playing in the corner of the dirty room. The single window in the room was open. The light coming through it cast an unflattering glow over the place, highlighting the layer of dust, the stains on the thin carpet, the damp patches on the walls.
Here at the entrance to the flat, she got that scent of cologne again; although it seemed fainter now. Either the air blowing through the open window had dispersed it, or else there was no smell and Dee was just imagining it.