little delicate white-painted thing. On the top of it lay the latest issue of Vogue, a magazine that Kate had never seen the point of. Fashion bored her rigid, although she was clearly in a minority. Shaking it out, she laid it on top of the bedclothes, which still bore the imprint of Trixie Arlen’s body. Kate felt a moment of nausea that was unusual. She turned back to the bedside cabinet, opening the drawers and unearthing a set of high-end sex toys that made her raise her eyebrows.
“Blimey. Theo, look at this.” She held up a vibrator that could almost have been a work of art, a modern sculpture, perhaps.
Theo laughed. “Well, you never know, do you? I always thought that sort of shit stopped when you got married.”
“Well, what would you know about that?” said Kate, suddenly annoyed at his tone. She laid the toys on the bed next to the magazine. She suppressed the little voice inside her that told her she didn’t know anything about being married, either.
The cabinet didn’t yield anything else of interest. Kate knee-shuffled over to the chest of drawers that stood against the far-side wall. That too was clearly expensive, a lovely mahogany antique. Kate began to work methodically from the top down. She could hear Theo open the wardrobe door behind her and the clank of hangers as he began to sort through the clothes inside.
The drawers held a lot of underwear, most of it surprisingly functional, given the discovery in the bedside table; Kate had expected to find scraps of black lace and little silk nothings, but most of what emerged was sturdy white cotton. The brassieres were mostly the type that enabled breastfeeding. She pulled each drawer fully out, searching right to the corners. She made sure to check underneath each one – sometimes people taped things to the bottom, a surprisingly effective hiding place for something thin enough to be concealed there – but her efforts yielded no results. Kate worked her way through the rest of the drawers, finding nothing more exciting than cashmere jumpers, multiple pairs of black and grey leggings and skinny jeans.
She and Theo rolled back the rug beside the bed, looking for trap doors or secret hiding places beneath the floor boards. Kate moved backwards slowly, on her hands and knees, scanning the boards for barely visible openings. She found none. They stripped the bed of its coverings and checked the mattress, and then the springs of the bedframe. It was a bed made of black wrought iron, sham-vintage, made to look old.
“There’s nothing here,” said Theo, eventually. “Let’s move to the en-suite.”
Kate had been tapping her fingers against the black bars of the footboard. “Wait,” she said, suddenly aware of the hollow sound emanating from beneath her hands. “Wait a minute.”
She looked carefully at the top of the footboard, which was actually a long rail which ended in the two posts which held up the foot of the bed. Each post was topped in a kind of curling iron flourish. Biting her lip, Kate tested one of them, twisting it gently left. It resisted for a moment and then yielded, unscrewing smoothly. Once it had come off in her hand, Kate held her breath and looked down into the hollow space that was revealed.
It was right there, near the top of the bed leg, stuck to the inside of the tube with sellotape. She reached it with her gloved fingers and drew out a small plastic bag, half full of brownish powder. She and Theo looked at each other.
“Well, well,” said Theo. “So she was a junkie after all.”
Something about his tone flicked Kate on the raw. “You don’t know that,” she said crossly. “We don’t even know what’s in it yet.”
“Oh, come on.”
Kate held the plastic packet pinched between two gloved fingers. She dropped it into an evidence bag and sealed it. That brief moment of anger flickered and died. She felt sad. “Well, you’re probably right,” she said quietly. “Let’s check the other one.”
Theo
“Blimey. Theo, look at this.” She held up a vibrator that could almost have been a work of art, a modern sculpture, perhaps.
Theo laughed. “Well, you never know, do you? I always thought that sort of shit stopped when you got married.”
“Well, what would you know about that?” said Kate, suddenly annoyed at his tone. She laid the toys on the bed next to the magazine. She suppressed the little voice inside her that told her she didn’t know anything about being married, either.
The cabinet didn’t yield anything else of interest. Kate knee-shuffled over to the chest of drawers that stood against the far-side wall. That too was clearly expensive, a lovely mahogany antique. Kate began to work methodically from the top down. She could hear Theo open the wardrobe door behind her and the clank of hangers as he began to sort through the clothes inside.
The drawers held a lot of underwear, most of it surprisingly functional, given the discovery in the bedside table; Kate had expected to find scraps of black lace and little silk nothings, but most of what emerged was sturdy white cotton. The brassieres were mostly the type that enabled breastfeeding. She pulled each drawer fully out, searching right to the corners. She made sure to check underneath each one – sometimes people taped things to the bottom, a surprisingly effective hiding place for something thin enough to be concealed there – but her efforts yielded no results. Kate worked her way through the rest of the drawers, finding nothing more exciting than cashmere jumpers, multiple pairs of black and grey leggings and skinny jeans.
She and Theo rolled back the rug beside the bed, looking for trap doors or secret hiding places beneath the floor boards. Kate moved backwards slowly, on her hands and knees, scanning the boards for barely visible openings. She found none. They stripped the bed of its coverings and checked the mattress, and then the springs of the bedframe. It was a bed made of black wrought iron, sham-vintage, made to look old.
“There’s nothing here,” said Theo, eventually. “Let’s move to the en-suite.”
Kate had been tapping her fingers against the black bars of the footboard. “Wait,” she said, suddenly aware of the hollow sound emanating from beneath her hands. “Wait a minute.”
She looked carefully at the top of the footboard, which was actually a long rail which ended in the two posts which held up the foot of the bed. Each post was topped in a kind of curling iron flourish. Biting her lip, Kate tested one of them, twisting it gently left. It resisted for a moment and then yielded, unscrewing smoothly. Once it had come off in her hand, Kate held her breath and looked down into the hollow space that was revealed.
It was right there, near the top of the bed leg, stuck to the inside of the tube with sellotape. She reached it with her gloved fingers and drew out a small plastic bag, half full of brownish powder. She and Theo looked at each other.
“Well, well,” said Theo. “So she was a junkie after all.”
Something about his tone flicked Kate on the raw. “You don’t know that,” she said crossly. “We don’t even know what’s in it yet.”
“Oh, come on.”
Kate held the plastic packet pinched between two gloved fingers. She dropped it into an evidence bag and sealed it. That brief moment of anger flickered and died. She felt sad. “Well, you’re probably right,” she said quietly. “Let’s check the other one.”
Theo
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