Free The Dead Place by Stephen Booth Page A

call your wife's mobile, sir?'
    60 'About eight, I suppose.'
    'And it was already off then?'
    'Yes.'
    Hitchens leaned forward in his chair, as if about to leave.
    'Would it be all right if we take a look around while we're here, sir?' he said.
    'What for?'
    'Anything that might help us find your wife.'
    Puzzled, Birley looked at his sister, whose face had set into an angry expression. 'I suppose it'll be all right,' he said.
    The Birleys lived in a detached limestone cottage with an enclosed garden. Fry guessed there were probably three or four bedrooms upstairs. From outside, it was obvious that the property had been created by combining two cottages whose roofs were at slightly different heights. An external chimney stack at one end suggested there might have been a third cottage in the row at some time.
    Fry looked first into the kitchen and saw an enamelled range, the kind that provided central heating and hot water as well as cooking. She'd never be able to manage one of those herself. In the sitting room, the focal point had been a cast-iron stove with a carved surround, which looked equally impractical.
    In the dining room, Fry paused to admire a carving of a leaping dolphin on a table near the fireplace. There was much more light at the back of the house, thanks to a sliding door that led into a conservatory, with pine floorboards covered in raffia matting. She walked straight through it and out into the garden, past a lawn and a series of raised borders, until she found a brick store place and a garden shed that had been painted bright blue. Neither of them contained the body of Sandra Birley.
    Re-entering the house, Fry saw Hitchens descending the stairs from the bedrooms. She shook her head, and they both went back into the sitting room, where they were met with
    61 a glare from Trish Neville. Geoff himself was gazing at the carved surround of the stove, as if searching for a meaning in its decorative curlicues.
    'Is that your car parked outside, sir?' said Hitchens. 'The green Audi?'
    'Yes. Why?'
    'Do you mind if DS Fry takes a look?'
    Birley found the keys to the Audi without argument. Either he'd cottoned on by now, or his sister had explained it to him while they were out of the room.
    Fry went outside and checked the interior and boot of the car. It contained nothing more incriminating than half a roll of blue stretch wrap that looked as though it might have come from the despatch department at a distribution centre.
    'I don't know what I'll do without Sandra,' Birley said, as the detectives prepared to leave.
    'We don't know that your wife is dead, Mr Birley,' said Hitchens.
    'What? You think he might be keeping her prisoner somewhere?' 'It's quite possible. Until we know one way or the other, we're keeping an open mind.'
    Birley had begun to look hopeful. But now he dropped his eyes again.
    'You're just saying that. You'll find her dead, won't you? You know you will. Why else would he have snatched her from that car park?'
    'Until that happens, we can still hope for the best, sir.'
    As soon as he'd spoken, Fry remembered having said something similar quite recently. But she couldn't quite recall when and where.
    Detective Chief Inspector Oliver Kessen leaned against the side of the crime scene van and thrust his hands into his
    62 pockets. 'Well, this place must be dead overnight,' he said. 'Do many people leave vehicles in here until morning?'
    Fry assumed that the DCI was talking to her, though he gave no sign of it. Scenes of crime had almost finished with Sandra Birley's Skoda, and were moving away along the retaining wall towards the ramps.
    'Very few,' said Fry. 'It's too expensive.'
    She looked around for Ben Cooper to get confirmation.
    'This is a shoppers' car park,' he said. 'It's meant for short stay. But some of the office workers use it, if they need to. The other parking facilities get full.'
    'That's what Mr Birley told us, too,' added Fry.
    Kessen kept his eye on the Skoda, as if it might do