Free Doors Without Numbers by C.D. Neill Page A

unexplained rent payments. As he spoke, he became aware that Harris’s instinct warranted more attention. A detective had no tools of the trade other than their instinct. It couldn’t be handed to a young rookie with an id card and a pair of handcuffs, it was instinctual, organic. Hammond shouldn’t have doubted Harris’s instinct, especially now that his own was beginning to gnaw at him. There was something that wasn’t right. Mark Callum’s death had been as neat and tidy as his apartment and as such, it bordered on implausible. He shared these thoughts with Dunn as she sat there silently. When he had finished talking, she looked at him intently.
    “I know I don’t have to remind you that it is going to be practically impossible to justify spending resources on reviewing suicides. Do you want me to help in any way? We could do it in our free time. Galvin will help as well, you know he would do anything for you if you asked him.”
    Hammond looked at Dunn sharply. He saw she wasn’t being sarcastic but was taken aback by her comment. He had noticed Galvin’s enthusiasm for the job but had never considered it was in any way related to himself. He waited for Dunn to explain her comment but instead she stood up from her chair.
    “Just ask if you need me to check on anything or to help with the investigation in any way.”
    Hammond thanked her, he was confident it would only be a matter of time before he took her up on her offer.
    Hammond was convinced the car was on autopilot, he couldn’t remember driving to his house in Stanford yet he arrived outside his front door within twenty minutes after leaving Police Headquarters. He was annoyed to find a battered Volkswagen camper van parked in his usual place, leaving him with no choice but to park further up the road. As he walked toward his house, he noted that the curtains were drawn. He knew that the curtains had been open when he had left that morning. He paused outside his neighbour’s house, unsure whether to proceed, his eyes automatically scanning the road for his son’s car. It was possible that Paul had come home unexpectedly, but unlikely he would bother to draw the curtains. Hammond considered the possibility and thought again. If Paul didn’t have his car, he would have phoned to be collected from the train station and he hadn’t heard from Paul. His heart started beating fast in his chest. He crouched down by the wall and considered what to do. If there were burglars, it was likely there would be more than one. He focused on each car parked in close proximity in turn, looking for someone in a car that was a possible look-out. He saw no-one. Whoever was in the house were confident they wouldn’t be disturbed. He breathed slowly and crept across to his garden wall, waiting several seconds before skulking across the small front garden to underneath the living room window. He crouched low, confident he was hidden in the darkness. There was a gap in the curtains, he attempted to see through it by raising his head from his crouched position, but could only see the light from the table lamp nearest the window that had been switched on during his absence. For a moment he considered phoning the police, but pride got the better of him and he decided to approach the front door. He rang the doorbell and listened, expecting activity on the other side, there was nothing. Hammond took a deep breath and turned the key in the lock, slamming the door open, causing it to swing dramatically before it concluded its dance with a resounding thud against the wall. Still silence. The house was in darkness apart from the light that was showing from underneath the living room door. He stood with his back against the hallway wall and raised one leg until his foot rested on the door handle. With one push he depressed the door lever and spun into the room with a shout that resembled a tribal war cry. There was a yelp from behind one of the sofas. A black mass of hair slowly raised