Free White Light by Alex Marks

died.'
    That silenced Maggie for a few seconds, but then she carried on with:
    'It's been let out for years and Richard has been managing it. He’d like to carry on with that arrangement.  Is that alright with you, dear?’
    I think my face actually curled up in snarl. ‘No,’  I took a deep breath and carried on more calmly, ‘I'm going to sell it and donate it to Homes For All.’ I admit, my entire motivation was to be as obstructive as possible, but it was a good idea nonetheless.
    ‘To what?’
    ‘The charity Sarah worked for.’ You stupid murdering cow, I thought.
    There was a very long pause.  I was just about to check to see if the phone had dropped the signal when a deeper voice came over the line.
    ‘Adam?  Richard.’  I stood up and started pacing. I had been right. The bitch must have had the phone on the speaker, him standing at her elbow. ‘It would be a very bad idea to sell the property at this time, the market isn’t very robust at present.’
    ‘Oh, really? I thought the papers are saying that it’s on the up just now.’
    ‘That’s a very naïve interpretation,’ his voice was compelling, persuasive, ‘it would be a much better investment for Sarah’s charity if we left the house as a rental for now. Perhaps you could use some of the income to help with the renovations...’
    ‘Until when, do you think?’
    ‘Well, property is a long-term investment, Adam.  This is something you probably don’t know much about, so best leave it with me as Sarah’s financial manager.’
    I wouldn’t leave him a fucking postage stamp. ‘No, I’ve already spoken to Katie at the charity, she’s expecting the money as soon as it can be realised,’ I lied.  ‘So I’ll be speaking with my solicitor and the estate agents today. Got to go.’
    I stabbed the hang-up button and then very deliberately smashed my phone into pieces on the bench. Bits of smartphone flew in all directions and it was only when a bit pinged off my array of electromagnets and associated measuring equipment that I stopped. My hands shaking, I sat down and waited until my blood stopped pounding, until I could breathe properly, and then swept up the bits and dumped them into a box on my desk, shoving the sim card into my pocket.
    That fucking tossing man, I raged to myself. Just expecting to carry on with his perversions as if nothing had happened, as if Sarah hadn't remembered everything, as if she hadn't died... I vaguely remember rushing out of the office. I think Dave tried to speak to me in the corridor but I pushed past him and ran to my car. I had to go to the place Sarah had gone on the last night she was alive; I couldn't think why I hadn't done this before, why I hadn't driven over there last night.
    I don't think my brain engaged at all on the drive across Oxford, I just found myself sitting in the car at the curb in a perfectly ordinary Headington street, staring at the perfectly ordinary 1930s semi-detached house opposite. White pebbledash on the walls, black front door, UPVC windows – all completely normal and respectable. The street was just a normal and respectable Headington street, filled with identikit houses, half with skips or scaffolding outside denoting homeowners busy capitalising on Oxford's crazy housing market. The only incongruous note was a spray of cubed windscreen glass which fanned across the road and clustered, glittering, in the gutter.
    I wiped my face and found my hand was shaking. The huge adrenalin surge that had carried me over here was now flat-lining, leaving me blank and nauseous, a man-shaped piece of nothing. What the hell was I doing here, anyway? Did I really expect to see anything other than a normal house? Richard and Maggie had owned it for over 30 years and the fact that I'd never seen it in the news, surrounded by crime scene tape, meant that no-one must know what went on in there.
    As I hesitated, the front door opened and to my surprise a uniformed policeman stepped out. My