Then and Always (27 page)

Sure enough, the clicking of the front door mechanism came almost immediately in response to the buzzer, and the front door slowly swung open.

Jimmy took the first step over the threshold into the darkened hallway, which always smelled vaguely of detergent from the launderette. The familiar aroma rocked my assurance for a minute and my steps faltered slightly as I began to climb the threadbare stairs in front of us. Jimmy took my hand and I gripped it like a lifeline as we began to ascend the well-worn treads.

We passed the first and second landings without incident, but as we turned to climb the next flight, a large middle-aged woman with ebony black hair swept past us. She was clearly preoccupied with some paperwork she was reading, and jumped in surprise when I greeted her.

“Good morning, Mrs. Keyworth.”

She stopped in her tracks, her automatic smile of greeting wavering as she took in the two strangers standing before her.

“Good morning,” she replied automatically, even as her eyes were narrowing in confusion. “I’m sorry … do I know you?”

That indeed was an interesting question. I stood silently as her gaze traveled blankly over my face, before she turned both her attention and questioning smile upon Jimmy. I almost smiled myself then at the familiar response from my landlady.
She always
had
favored her male tenants, especially the younger ones.

“You probably don’t remember us,” supplied Jimmy smoothly. That clearly was true enough. “We’re friends of someone who lives here.” And that was a lie.

Mrs. Keyworth’s smile was still a little uncertain as she replied, “Ah, yes. Of course. Nice to see you again.”

She moved past us then, continuing on her descent, but twice she paused to look back questioningly at us on the landing above her, as though something was troubling her. She would probably spend the rest of the morning trying to remember where and when she had previously met Jimmy. Me she had already forgotten.

When we were alone once more on the stairwell, I looked to see how Jimmy was processing this latest revelation.

“That was my landlady, Mrs. Keyworth. She’s a nice enough woman. A bit overly chatty sometimes. And she has quite a thing for younger men.”

Jimmy said nothing, not even smiling at my final comment. He looked preoccupied, as though something here was beginning to chip away at the foundation of his belief.

“I think she took quite a shine to you,” I teased.

Again he gave no responding lighthearted rejoinder, replying only in a slightly distracted tone, “But she didn’t recognize you.”

We were silent for the rest of the climb until we finally reached the top floor, on which the last flat was located. I hadn’t been expecting the jolt of recognition that assaulted me the moment we arrived in front of the apartment.

“And here we are. Home sweet home.”

Jimmy surveyed our surroundings: the front door with layers of paint curling off in thick flakes, the walls sadly in
need of redecorating, and the grimy hallway window, too flecked with dirt to let in much light on a dark December morning.

“Quite frankly, I prefer your other place.”

I gave a small shrug.

“Well …,” he prompted, standing back slightly to allow me access to the front door. “Are you going to knock?”

I took a small step forward, feeling that knocking was surely unnecessary: whoever was inside my flat could probably already hear my heart hammering like a drum.

I realized that the flat wasn’t mine even before I raised my hand to tap upon the wooden panel. There was a bright shiny new Yale lock on the door that definitely hadn’t been there when I was the occupant.

The rapping of knuckles against timber echoed down the length of the empty corridor. Minutes ticked by before I tried again, banging even more firmly on the familiar door.

“Doesn’t look like anyone is home,” Jimmy eventually declared. “Perhaps it’s not even occupied. There wasn’t a name on the doorbell downstairs.”

I was surprised at the disappointment that filled me at his words. To have come this far without finally being able to access the flat was beyond frustrating. Even though the evidence we had already uncovered told me what to expect, I still needed to see the proof with my own eyes. If I was ever to have any peace of mind, I needed to get inside the flat and verify there were no hidden traces within of my missing life.

And then I remembered something. Abandoning the front door, I crossed swiftly over to the window that was a short distance down the corridor. I ran my fingers around the faded wooden sill, seeking a handhold. Gripping the yellowed
wood firmly in both hands, I began to pull, thrusting up against the sill with my knee when it resisted my efforts.

“Er, what are you doing?” queried Jimmy, coming quickly to my side.

I gave a grunt at my efforts but just kept trying to release the sill from the window cavity. Jimmy put his hands over mine, stilling my attempts to lift it.

“Rachel, if you don’t want me to arrest you for vandalism, would you please explain what you’re up to?”

I sighed and straightened up.

“The guy who had the flat before me, an American chap, told me about this dodgy sill when I moved in. Apparently, he was always locking himself out, so he found this neat place to keep a spare key. If it’s still there, we can let ourselves into the flat and check it out.”

“Now, that
is
breaking and entering,” Jimmy confirmed. “Not exactly the best career move on my part, do you not think?”

I looked up at him. He was right. This could get him in serious trouble with his bosses. I couldn’t be responsible for that. I couldn’t jeopardize his career.

“Okay. You wait for me down in the car. I’ll do this by myself. It won’t take long.”

He sighed deeply.

“You really are hell-bent on a life of crime, aren’t you?”

Then, despite his words, he gently pushed me to one side and took hold of the sill. It lifted easily from its resting place in one smooth move. Little flurries of plaster dust puffed up at the removal of the wooden base, which for a second or two obscured the bricks upon which the sill had sat. As the dust settled, we both leaned forward to take a closer look. But really there was no need. A front door key, safely encased in a
clear plastic bag, was plainly visible, nestled in a gap between two bricks. Jimmy gave a small exclamation of surprise.

My hand was already halfway toward the key when behind us came the unmistakable sound of a latch being released and the rattling of several door chains. In one hurried maneuver Jimmy replaced the sill upon the bricks, thumping down firmly on the wood to secure it in position, just as the front door to my old flat opened behind us.

“Hello there,” trilled a male voice. I spun around, hoping my features were devoid of guilt, to face the tall, slimly built man standing in my doorway. “Sorry I couldn’t get to the door straightaway. I was on the phone. Can I help you?” He was smiling engagingly but I noticed it was being directed at Jimmy and not me. He really was proving to be a big hit today.

“Good morning, sir,” began Jimmy, his voice adopting a smooth professional tone. “I’m sorry to disturb you but I wondered if we could have a moment or two of your time.” As he spoke Jimmy slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and produced his warrant card for the young man to peruse.

His reaction was interesting to observe, for his face paled a little under the expensive fake tan, and he ran his hand nervously through his immaculately highlighted hair. I wondered what he might have been involved with to make him so uncomfortable at finding a policeman at his door.

“May we come in for a moment?” Jimmy asked, still the consummate officer of the law.

“Oh yes, of course, of course,” flustered the flat’s new occupant. “Please excuse the mess. I wasn’t expecting visitors; the place is an absolute tip!”

We followed him through the hallway, which I had painted bright yellow to lighten it. It was now covered in smart blue-and-white-striped
wallpaper. The lounge too was far from being the disgrace its owner had described, having been stylishly and minimalistically furnished in sleek white and navy blue. It really did look so much bigger with all my furniture removed.

“Please, sit, sit,” flapped the man. “Can I get you something to drink? Or eat?”

“No, thank you, sir. This really won’t take more than a few minutes.”

The man was beginning to relax now at Jimmy’s encouraging smile. He was really quite good at this policeman stuff. If he
had
been here to question the man about some misdemeanor, he would totally have lulled him into a false sense of security.

“Could I have your name please?” asked Jimmy smoothly, even withdrawing a small notebook to complete the illusion of an investigation. God, he was
really
good.

“Maximilian MacRae,” the man said, perching on the edge of a white settee that contrasted strikingly with his black leather trousers. He leaned toward Jimmy with a twinkle. “But everyone just calls me Max.”

Could he
be
any more blatant? I bit my lip, which was threatening to quiver slightly. Jimmy, on the other hand, seemed impervious to anything inappropriate.

“Mr. MacRae,” he began, putting the interview back on a more formal footing, “we are making inquiries today about a missing person. Do you know anything of a Miss Rachel Wiltshire?”

My head flew up at my name.

“Nooo. I’ve never heard of her, I’m afraid. Why, has something happened to her?”

There was an almost ghoulish curiosity to his tone, a desire
to hear every last grisly detail. If I really
was
missing, this guy would be high on my list of suspects!

“We hope not. We’re just trying to trace her whereabouts. We have this flat listed as her last known address.”

I almost applauded then at the skillful way Jimmy had manipulated the conversation to find out what we wanted to know.

“Really? That’s very odd. You see, I’ve lived here for three years now, and before me there was some young American man, who’d been here for even longer. So if this—what was her name?—Rachel girl
did
live here, it must have been a really long time ago.”

“I see,” Jimmy replied. He looked over to me with a question in his eyes.
Have you seen enough?
I looked around the room that was mine, and not mine at all. I was everywhere and nowhere. I gave a small nod.

Jimmy got to his feet and I followed suit.

“Well, thank you very much, Mr. MacRae. I apologize again for disturbing you.”

“Please, just Max.”

“Thank you, Max,” corrected Jimmy, already heading toward the hallway. “You’ve been extremely helpful.”

Max smiled doubtfully at Jimmy’s words.

“I do hope you find this missing girl. And please, if you have any more questions, anything at all, just pop in anytime. I’m always here.”

The invitation was directed at Jimmy: I was so completely excluded from that one, I might as well have been invisible. I turned away and pretended to be examining my shoes, afraid it wasn’t going to take much more before I was actually laughing out loud. I glanced briefly at Jimmy and saw the hint of a tremor to his shoulders.

Max followed us both all the way to the hallway and stood lingering by his open door as we began to walk away.

“By the way …,” began Jimmy, turning back toward Max when we had taken only a few steps, “that key you have hidden under the windowsill: it’s really not such a good idea.”

It was highly amusing to see the change in Max’s expression from coy flirtatiousness to absolute astonishment.

“How did you know … No one else … How …?”

“First place a burglar looks,” said Jimmy, taking my arm to guide us toward the stairs. “Good day to you, sir.”

We held it together until we were safely out of earshot, then the laughter came, a blissful and welcome escape from the tension. I actually had tears rolling down my cheeks when we opened the main door and tumbled out of the building into the cold December day.

“Boy, you’re on fire today, aren’t you?” I said at last, when my ability to speak had returned.

Jimmy gave a self-effacing shrug. “What can I say? When you’re hot, you’re hot.”

When we were back inside his car once again, his mood sobered a little.

“Do you know exactly how many laws I broke just then?”

I bit my lip guiltily. “Quite a few?” I hazarded.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry,” I murmured.

He reached over to pick up my hand, sliding it comfortingly within his own. I looked down at his fingers laced so easily around mine, knowing I shouldn’t keep misinterpreting his intentions, but it was so hard not to. Perhaps it was time for a reality check.

“Come on then. Let me have it. Give me your explanation for what just happened in there.”

“Ah, well, Maximilian naturally fell under the spell of my charms and—”

I gave a very unladylike response, before steering him away from humor.

“You know what I’m talking about. Explain to me how I knew everything that I did: how to get here; the names of the landlady, the tenants, past and present—not to mention the hidden key.”

He was silent for so long I almost thought he wasn’t going to answer. When he did, his words came out in a long sigh.

“I can’t.”

I swiveled in my seat then, to study his expression more clearly. I wasn’t used to him sounding so uncertain. I almost felt sorry for the dilemma I was putting him in, knowing how his logical policeman’s mind must be struggling with something that made no sense at all.

He turned the engine on then, finally releasing my hand from his.

“Can you try directing me a little less aggressively this time?”

“Directing you where?”

He looked at me as though I were deliberately being dumb.

“Anderson’s Engineering. That
was
the name of the place you worked, wasn’t it?”

I nodded, unable to conceal a smile of pure gratitude. Not only had he remembered the name, but more importantly he knew and understood that I needed his help in this impossible quest, without my having to ask for it. And suddenly the
journey to seek out the answers didn’t seem nearly so daunting and scary, now that I wasn’t facing it alone.