Читать книгу The Manhattan Puzzle - Laurence O’Bryan - Страница 24

This was all getting ridiculous, Sean wouldn’t have gone to a strip club – he was not that kind of man. But it would explain the late nights. The thought of Sean visiting that club left an ache in Isabel’s chest. The weekend in Paris didn’t matter now. He’d been the best thing in her life since they’d come back from Istanbul. She could almost feel his arms around her when she thought about him.

As the cab came up the street she saw a police car outside their next door neighbour’s house. A dark Ford was double-parked outside their house. She got out of the cab by the police car, and peered in. What was she expecting, Sean to be in handcuffs in the back?

He wasn’t. She fumbled for her keys. The black paint on their front door glistened. The glass was opaque. She could see a shape moving on the other side. She heard someone behind her, turned.

It was one of the neighbours. She was wearing a bobble hat. She glanced at Isabel, then looked away as she passed, as if she suspected that the police car had something to do with her. Isabel didn’t care. She turned back to the door. She wanted her old life back. Now.

She took out her keys. Her hand was trembling. The mist on her breath filled the air as she turned the front door key.

Before she even got a chance to take it out, someone on the other side yanked the door open, almost catching her fingers. A burly, hard-eyed policewoman was looking at her as if she were a criminal.

Isabel felt weak. Blood was rushing the wrong way inside her. Her knees had stopped working.

The police were in her house.

‘What’s going on? Where’s my husband?’ Her words came out in a rush.

‘Are you Isabel Ryan?’ the policewoman said. She’d have been able to find a place on a Soviet-era ice hockey team, she was that big.

‘Yes?’

The policewoman looked at her. For a heart-twisting moment Isabel thought she was going to say that Sean was dead.

Then another man, in plain clothes, said something Isabel didn’t catch, and the policewoman stepped aside.

‘I’m Inspector Kirby,’ said the man. His accent was from the north of England. He was tall and had a sickle-like jaw. He was standing at the bottom of their stairs, as if he’d just come down.

What was going on?

‘Don’t be alarmed, Mrs Ryan. Your cleaner let us in. We have a search warrant.’ He patted his breast pocket.

She didn’t want to see any search warrant. She had nothing to hide.

‘Is Sean okay?’ she said quickly.

‘We thought you might be able to help us with that, Mrs Ryan.’

The weakness in her legs came rushing back. She put a hand out, steadied herself against the wall. The policewoman reached towards her. She shrugged her away, straightened herself, and focused on the inspector.

‘Why the hell are you in my house?’ She knew she sounded angry, but she didn’t care.

‘We’re investigating some serious matters, Mrs Ryan.’ His voice had a passive quality, but his eyes were as hard as granite.

‘Under our search warrant powers we’re permitted to remove all the computer equipment in your home, and any papers or any other items related in any way to the matters under investigation. All these powers have been granted under regulations contained in the Financial Services and Markets Act 2000.’

It sounded like a set of words that he was well practiced in delivering.

‘Your cleaner showed us your husband’s office.’

‘Sorry, Mrs Ryan. There was nothing I could do,’ called out a weak voice from down the corridor. Sabrina’s head poked up over Inspector Kirby’s shoulder.

‘It’s all right, Sabrina. It’s to do with the bank.’ She closed her eyes for a moment. She had to focus. She couldn’t care about them being here.

‘You’re trying to find my husband?’ She rubbed her forehead. It was slick with sweat.

‘Yes,’ was Inspector Kirby’s curt reply. His tone made it clear he thought she should be the one answering questions.

‘I have to go, Mrs Ryan.’ Sabrina pushed past the inspector, gave Isabel a weak smile, and patted her arm as she went by.

Sabrina opened the door and then went out.

A gust of freezing wind swept in. The policewoman followed Sabrina outside, pulling the door closed behind her. ‘We need to ask you some questions, Mrs Ryan. Where can we do that?’ Inspector Kirby looked like someone who’d seen everything the world could throw in front of a policeman.

‘You probably know the house as well as I do by now, Inspector. Where would you suggest?’

‘The kitchen.’

She led the way. The walls seemed to be closing in as she went down the corridor, as if the house was suddenly smaller than it had been, as if it wasn’t hers any more.

‘You have a nice house,’ said the inspector. His tone was cool, official, but there was a hint of something else in it, as if he was questioning how they could afford such a big place.

She entered the kitchen and stared at Alek’s baby drawings on the wall, which Sean had framed so beautifully and simply, in black wood with a thick white border. A lump formed fast in her throat.

Had he done something stupid?

Why would the police be here if he was innocent?

Her fingers felt icy. She hadn’t noticed the cold when she was outside, adrenaline must have been warming her up, but now she was back in the house, and with the police here, they felt frozen.

There was a picture of her on a cork notice board on the kitchen wall, from the time before Alek had been born. She looked pale, smiling tentatively. Sean had been so concerned about her back then. She sat in the green wicker chair at the end of the kitchen table. It was a giant well-worn table, the type they had in the kitchens of big old English country houses. And now a policeman was sitting at it with her. She gripped the edge of the table with both hands. She must have looked stupid, or mad. But she didn’t care. Inspector Kirby sat, leaning over his notebook. She forced herself to breathe. They hadn’t told her he had done anything wrong. Not yet.