Читать книгу The Murder House - Michael Wood - Страница 8

09.45

Rose Bishop diverted from her journey in to work to head for the Mercer house in Fulwood. She had drunk so much at the wedding reception yesterday that she hadn’t realized she had gone home wearing only one shoe. She had tried to call Serena this morning to make sure the shoe wasn’t casually thrown away with all the leftover food and empty bottles, but she wasn’t answering her mobile or the landline.

She pulled up at the top of the drive and trotted down it. She knocked on the door, rang the bell and stepped back, looking up at the house. The curtains were drawn in every room. Serena had been just as drunk as she was, but Clive wasn’t a big drinker. Surely they should have been up and getting ready to go to work by now. She knocked again, louder, and leaned into the door to listen for the sound of footsteps. It was deathly silent.

She went around the back of the house and entered the marquee. Rose vaguely remembered complimenting Serena on how gorgeous and elegant everything looked when she first saw it after the church service, but, looking at it now, you would be forgiven for thinking a group of eight year olds had held a birthday party here. It was a mess. She made her way through the tent, and, surprisingly, she found her shoe on a table near the wedding cake. She picked it up and headed for the house. It would be rude to leave without saying hello.

Rose was shocked to find the back door wide open. Clive and Serena were so security conscious. They wouldn’t have gone to bed and left the house exposed like this. Maybe Clive was already up and had gone out for a newspaper or something.

‘Hello? Clive, Serena, are you up?’ Rose called out from the kitchen. She looked at the remains of the food on the island. She picked up a smoked salmon canape and popped it into her mouth. It was as delicious as she remembered. She had eaten dozens of them. She made a mental note to ask Serena for the recipe.

‘Jeremy? Rachel? Anyone awake?’ Rose asked as she made her way along the ground floor.

She poked her head into the living room but it was empty. This had been off-limits to party guests yesterday and it was, as it always was, spotlessly clean and tidy.

Rose stopped in her tracks at the bottom of the stairs. It took her brain a few long seconds to realize what it was seeing. Jeremy Mercer was slumped against the wall. His eyes were closed and there was so much blood surrounding him.

‘Jeremy,’ she whispered. It didn’t seem real. This was a practical joke, surely. She leaned down, and, with shaking fingers, felt for a pulse on his wrist. He was freezing cold and there was no beat coming from the vein. ‘Oh my God.’

She looked up the stairs and saw the trail of blood on the cream-coloured carpet. She stumbled back and almost tripped over the remains of the hall table. On the floor, the cordless phone was out of its cradle. She reached out for it and saw her hands were covered in blood. She silently screamed, picked up the phone and dialled 999.

‘999. What’s your emergency?’

Rose was about to speak when she heard the sound of barking coming from upstairs.

‘Oh my God. Rachel.’

‘I’m sorry?’ the operator asked.

‘You need to come quickly. Someone’s been killed, and I think there may be more bodies.’

She tried not to look at Jeremy as she stepped over his lifeless corpse. The carpet on the stairs was full of bloodstains in the shape of paw prints.

‘Where are you calling from?’

‘Rachel?’ Rose screamed, ignoring the 999 operator.

Rose reached the top of the stairs, stepped onto the landing and saw more horror before her. She screamed and continued to scream until her voice was hoarse. The operator was asking questions, but she didn’t hear them. She fell back against the wall and slid down it. She clutched the phone firmly against her chest and couldn’t take her eyes off the nightmare inches away from her.