Chapters (49)
- Cover
- Table of Contents
- Also by Graham Hurley
- LIMELIGHT
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- 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
- AFTERWARDS
McFaul grunts something I don’t catch. Then he’s at the back of the van, taking the weight of a sizeable piece of furniture Presley is pushing towards him. The woman joins McFaul and together all three of them manhandle the object out of the van. A streetlight beside the van gives me a perfect view as the lifting party struggles across the pavement and through McFaul’s front gate. As they edge carefully towards the front door, I recognize the distinctive curve of the backrest, the glorious blue and grey stripes, the plumpness of the upholstery, the beautifully turned little legs. Then they pause a moment, while the woman readjusts her grip, and I have a second or two to make absolutely sure. The chaise longue, I think, from Bill Penny’s once-cherished bedroom.
THIRTEEN
It’s mid-morning the next day when McFaul knocks at Evelyn’s front door. His face rarely gives anything away and today is no exception.
‘You’ve done it? Cracked it? Opened the file?’
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘I tried but he’d managed to embed a self-destruct.’
‘A what?’
‘It’s a coding thing. I’ve no idea what was in that file but he never wanted anyone to see it. It’s like wiring your bell push to a stick of dynamite. The minute I wanted to get in – boom, the file disappeared.’
‘Gone?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Forever?’
‘Probably. I’m going to have one last go, but don’t hold your breath. In Angola, in the minefields, we’d call it a tripwire. Same principle.’
‘You looked elsewhere? Back-up, maybe?’
‘I looked everywhere – I’ve been up half the night.’ He stifles a yawn. ‘I’m guessing the guy mattered to you.’
‘You’re right. He did.’ I hold his gaze. ‘One other favour?’
‘No problem.’
‘This has nothing to do with computers, I promise. I happened to see that chaise delivered last night. Am I right that it belonged to Bill Penny?’
‘Yeah. How did you know?’
‘I saw it in that huge bedroom of his. It’s an amazing piece. I’m a bit of a nerd around French antique furniture. Would you mind if I popped in for a closer look?’
He gazes at me until I begin to feel uncomfortable. He clearly wants to say no but can’t quite work out how.
‘Sure.’ He shrugs. ‘Why not?’
I’m knocking at his door maybe an hour later. He shows me into the lounge where I find the chaise artfully placed a metre or two back from the bay window. Apart from this single piece of furniture, and a small occasional table, the room is bare. I can smell disinfectant again, bleach this time.
‘May I?’ I’m nodding at the chaise.
‘Help yourself.’