The Good Neighbor

by R. J. Parker

  ‘Them kissing.’ Mrs Trent looked uncomfortable. ‘He was still kissing her when I came to the window.’ Her eyes were on the tarmac. ‘And how angry she seemed with him when she walked off down the street.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Leah struggled to compose her emotions. Even though she’d told herself that it was very likely, actually knowing for sure that Elliot was involved with another woman still winded her. It also sounded like whoever she was lived nearby. Why else would she have walked away from their house? She’d always assumed that, if Elliot was seeing someone else, it would be a girl he’d met at work or in a social situation related to it. Was she right on Leah’s doorstep? They knew a lot of people by name in their small village, but all of their real friends lived outside Forley. There was nobody nearby with whom they spent any significant time.

  ‘Maybe we’ve said too much.’ Mr Trent reacted to her expression.

  ‘You’re not telling me anything I don’t know,’ Leah said dismissively. But having her suspicions confirmed by the neighbours was the last thing she’d expected.

  ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Mrs Trent clearly didn’t believe Leah’s assurance.

  She nodded. But a hundred questions were already whizzing around her head. Was it someone from the coffee shop or a woman he met up with when he went for his local runs? Or was that a deceit, an excuse to visit somebody who only lived a few streets away?

  ‘Come on in, Trudy.’ Mr Trent rolled the recycle bin a few feet up the drive but stopped when his wife didn’t follow.

  ‘I’m sorry. We assumed because of your own situation…’ Mrs Trent began to explain.

  ‘What did you assume?’ Leah couldn’t keep the harshness from her voice.

  ‘We’re sad to see things going wrong for both of you, that’s all.’

  ‘And what do you mean, because of my own situation?’

  ‘Leave it now, Trudy!’ Mr Trent barked.

  But she didn’t acknowledge her husband. ‘Whatever you think of me, Leah, I don’t make a habit of prying into your business but sometimes we see things we don’t intend to.’

  The clamour in Leah’s brain briefly halted. ‘Sorry, what are you talking about now?’

  ‘The man who came to call here.’

  Leah shook her head at Mrs Trent. ‘I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Trudy!’ Mr Trent held up his hand. ‘Sorry, my wife’s overstepped the mark.’

  ‘It’s OK.’ Leah was more intrigued than angry. ‘I’d like to know who this male caller is.’

  ‘He’s right. I really don’t want to fall out with you, Leah.’

  ‘You can’t leave it there.’ What had Mrs Trent seen? But Leah was hard pushed to remember another man that had been in the house in the last few months.

  Mrs Trent swivelled to follow her husband up the driveway.

  ‘Mrs Trent, I’d honestly love to know. I’m sure you’ve got the wrong idea though.’

  Mrs Trent halted and turned. ‘You’re right. I probably have.’

  But Leah could tell her neighbour was just trying to placate her.

  ‘Please, if you saw a man here there’ll be a legitimate reason.’

  ‘Even if he let himself out at night when you were home and Elliot wasn’t?’ Mrs Trent raised both eyebrows.

  ‘Trudy, that’s enough!’

  But Mrs Trent’s expression remained suspended, daring Leah to deny it.

  Leah was momentarily stunned. ‘When was this?’

  Mrs Trent headed up the driveway.

  Leah racked her brains. There had to be an occasion she could relate to what she’d just been told. But she couldn’t think of anything. ‘Mrs Trent…’

  Mrs Trent didn’t look back.

  Leah marched up the drive until she caught up with them both. ‘Wait.’

  They turned and Mrs Trent regarded her coolly.

  ‘I don’t know what you saw but it wasn’t what you thought.’

  Mrs Trent nodded, as if humouring her.

  ‘A man letting himself out of the house at night? Are you sure it wasn’t Elliot?’

  ‘I’m positive it wasn’t.’

  Leah’s eyes shot briefly to Mr Trent but his face was impassive. ‘You saw this?’

  He nodded and looked down at his shoes.

  ‘And why were you so sure it wasn’t Elliot?’

  ‘Because he came home in a car immediately after.’ Mrs Trent didn’t blink.

  Leah was speechless.

  ‘Watched him get out of the car with that girl. Give her that long kiss good night before she strutted away.’

  Leah tried to process what she’d just been told. ‘So you saw this man leaving my house last night?’

  Mrs Trent nodded, her face sceptical. ‘That’s why I’m sure you should remember.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ten hours earlier

  Tate stood in the garden and watched the bathroom window for a further couple of minutes, anticipating her emergence from the shower and the movement of her body in front of the frosted window as she dried herself. He wasn’t a pervert. He should look away now. He told himself that as soon as he saw a sign of her, he would. But the hiss of the water continued. Was she OK up there?

  Another minute passed. There hadn’t been any other activity. Elliot clearly wasn’t home. He peered down the narrow, dark gap on the right side of the house, between the wall and next door’s fence. More weak light spilled out about halfway along.

  Keeping his eyes fixed on the bathroom window Tate moved back towards the kitchen and then turned his body sideways so he could slide through the gap. He came to a small window and looked in. It was the downstairs lavatory and the door was open into the kitchen. He could see the breakfast bar with two tall stools under it. There was a metal basket of red and green peppers on top. No sign of anyone else.

  He remembered the garage at the front and continued along the wall until he was standing at the top of the driveway, his back to its closed door. He cast his eyes along the windows of the houses opposite, but most were in darkness or had curtains drawn. He kept facing them, bent his legs and slid his hands behind him and under the metallic edge of the door. He took the weight in his knees and arms and lifted. The door squeaked as it started to rise. His body tensed and he halted. Then he raised it slowly, reducing the sound, until the door was high enough for him to slip inside.

  The strip bulbs were bright in there but there was no car parked. It smelt of oil and wood shavings. He made his way to the door to the right and paused to listen. No sound from the other side. The light on told him she’d been in the garage since she’d got back. Checking Elliot was home? He put his fingers around the handle and wasn’t surprised when he depressed it and the door clicked open.

  He was looking into the kitchen, seeing the red and green peppers from a different angle. Nobody else around. He stepped into it from the garage and carefully closed the door behind him.

  The room was cold but he could hear the boiler running. Sounded like Leah Talbot was still in the shower. He walked stealthily into the carpeted hallway and paused at the open lounge door. The light was on in there too. Looked like a little home office had been set up in the window. He took in the sparse furnishings. Was this where she spent her days? Or maybe this was hubby’s lair. He spotted an array of framed photos on the dresser and crossed the room to examine them.

  She was with him in three of them. One of them was a wedding photograph. Looked like quite a scaled-back event at a small church. Elliot grinned back, clenching his teeth to prove how happy he was. He picked up the photo of their two black and white faces. It looked like the most recent one. Elliot was fuller in the face and didn’t clench as hard in this one. His eyes looked distracted by something beyond the lens.

  He replaced the photo in its exact position and felt an irrational sense of hostility towards Elliot. Anger was an emotion that rarely troubled him. Everything he did was deliberate, premeditated and cl
inical. Being in this house now was none of those things. It was time to leave, but first he wanted to make sure she was OK.

  The boiler continued to run.

  He stole to the bottom of the stairs and hesitated. The noise of the water trickled down from upstairs, odd flurries indicating the movement of her body. So she was fine. Go.

  But Tate surveyed the stairs that were carpeted in the same deep blue as the hallway. He started to climb them, stepping on the edges nearest the wall to avoid creaks giving away his presence.

  He couldn’t prevent a few squeaks and paused every time, waiting for the shower to be switched off. But it didn’t and it was still hissing when he reached the top. A thin ribbon of light cut across the blue carpet of the landing and as he crossed to the door emitting it a floorboard groaned. He held his breath, waited for a reaction. But the water kept flowing. Her ears would be full of it. He could probably speak to her from where he was standing, and she wouldn’t hear.

  He was comfortable trespassing in the homes of strangers. Knew exactly how little was required to remain hidden and how to sidestep into the spaces outside everyday circuits. But he hadn’t studied Leah yet and he couldn’t put himself at risk.

  The door was ajar about half an inch and he placed the tip of his forefinger on the stained panel and gave it a gentle nudge. He looked beyond the edge as it opened slightly inwards and through the steamed atmosphere. The washing basket was open, her familiar clothes dumped inside.

  Leah was sitting in the cubicle, side on to him, her back against the champagne tiles as the water trickled over her. Her eyes were closed.

  An aroma drifted out at him, carried by the vapour. An artificial fruit detergent scent with a human smell underscoring it.

  He could see the side of her face, her throat, her shoulder, her breast, her nipple, her thigh, her calf, her foot. One still half of a whole. The skin binding her together was pale. There was a red bra-strap mark on the top of her shoulder. Then she drew in breath and it moved everything. She opened her mouth to exhale and released a sigh.

  Water tumbled from her and her foot squeaked as she started to move. To stand.

  The tableau had kept him in the doorway longer than he wanted to allow himself and a vague internal alarm suddenly became louder. He took his fingertip away from the door and it swung back to its original position, blocking his view of her.

  Any moment, she would be turning the dial, halting the flow and removing his cover. He had to go now if he wanted his exit down the stairs to go unnoticed. But he stayed where he was, the warm moisture cold on his chin in the draught of the landing. What if he remained where he was? Let her find him there when she opened the door?

  He tried to imagine her reaction. How the muscles in her face would reconfigure themselves. Fright first, then realisation, recognition and then terror. And beyond that? Would Leah Talbot remember what had passed briefly between them earlier and understand why he’d followed her there?

  He put his fingertip on the door again. Considered how exerting slightly more force than he had the first time would reveal him and trigger an alternative event to the one his survival instincts told him was necessary.

  The water kept running.

  He tensed his finger, tempted by the notion of breaking the barrier between them. He could hear her feet moving about in the cubicle.

  But a moment later he was treading carefully back down the stairs, retracing the path he’d negotiated up them in reverse. He stopped at the bottom and looked up, the moisture still cooling on his chin.

  The water stopped. The boiler downstairs cut out a few seconds after.

  He could hear the last liquid running down the plughole. She’d be getting out soon. Pulling on a robe. She couldn’t know he’d been there. He decided to slip out through the front door. It was the quickest way to exit the house. He painstakingly turned the handle.

  Tate walked out into the cold rain but barely noticed it, delicately clicked the door closed behind him and strode down the drive.

  He had to leave now because tomorrow he intended to come back.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ‘What did he look like?’ Leah dreaded the Trents’s answer.

  ‘I know it wasn’t Elliot,’ Mr Trent said apologetically.

  ‘I understand that. Describe him though.’

  ‘Difficult to say. It was really dark.’ He shifted uncomfortably.

  ‘This is really important. Anything at all. What was his hair like?’

  ‘Fair hair.’ He seemed positive of that.

  The tops of Leah’s shoulders bristled.

  ‘Slim build. Average height. That’s all I can really remember.’

  ‘What was he wearing?’

  ‘I don’t recall.’ Mr Trent exchanged a worried look with his wife.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Mr Trent nodded.

  ‘And what did he do after he came out of my house?’

  ‘Just walked out of the drive and turned into the street.’

  ‘Which way?’

  ‘Right, I think.’ He took in her reaction. ‘Right, I’m sure.’

  ‘You didn’t see where he went? Or if he got into a car?’

  ‘No.’

  Mrs Trent’s hostility had evaporated. ‘What’s this all about? Are you saying you didn’t know him?’

  Leah turned when she heard the car. She recognised Fitch’s brown Audi as it slowed outside her home. ‘Do you both mind waiting here?’ she said as it pulled in and parked. ‘This is the police.’

  ‘Police?’ Mrs Trent’s face lit up.

  Leah registered that Fitch hadn’t brought her car back. ‘Just a minute. Don’t go anywhere.’

  Leah trotted down the drive. ‘There’s been a development.’

  Fitch was just heading into her house and turned in surprise as she emerged from next door. ‘Yes, there has. Would you mind coming with me?’

  ‘I mean, I had something to tell you. Somebody was in my home last night and it sounds like Martin Tate.’

  Fitch’s expression froze.

  ‘My neighbours have just told me. Ask them.’ She indicated the couple watching their exchange.

  Fitch said nothing but moved past her and approached the Trents.

  Leah followed and waited as the officer introduced himself. ‘Tell him what you just told me.’

  They did and Fitch nodded before repeating the questions she’d just asked them.

  ‘How was he acting? Was there anything furtive about his behaviour?’

  Mr Trent glanced briefly at Leah. ‘I wouldn’t say that.’

  ‘He was relaxed then, not particularly conscious of being spotted?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  Leah watched Fitch purse his lips. What did it look like to the three of them? That she’d invited him back and that her guest had left casually afterwards?

  ‘And what time was this?’

  ‘Trudy and I went to bed between half twelve and one so it would have been around then.’

  ‘After I got home but just before Elliot did. I had a shower and then found my husband downstairs.’

  ‘And you didn’t hear any sounds in the house?’

  ‘No. I would have mentioned them to you before now if I had.’ Leah tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

  ‘You didn’t hear the front door opening or closing?’

  ‘No, again, I would have mentioned that.’

  ‘And nor did your husband?’

  Leah took a short inward breath. ‘I said, he wasn’t home at that point. I heard the front door when Elliot got in.’

  ‘But we both saw Elliot when he did come home.’ Mrs Trent was clearly feeling left out of the conversation.

  Leah nodded at Mrs Trent. ‘It’s OK to tell him. I’ve got nothing to hide.’

  ‘He was dropped off by a young lady. She was driving and got out to talk to him and kiss him before she walked off down the road.’

  Fitch met Leah’s eye. ‘Do you know th
is woman?’

  Leah shook her head once and ignored Mrs Trent’s reaction.

  ‘And when was that?’

  ‘Like I said, Elliot came in just after I’d had my shower. So about half an hour after I got in.’

  ‘You don’t have any security cameras on the property?’

  Mr Trent shook his head.

  Leah already knew that. Had the man who claimed to be Martin Tate followed her home and got inside her house while she’d been washing the smell of the deer off in the shower? Her stomach shrivelled.

  Fitch turned to her. ‘There were no signs of a break-in?’

  ‘You saw yourself when you took a look around earlier.’

  ‘Aside from the front door being on the latch,’ Fitch reminded her.

  ‘Elliot could have done that this morning though.’

  Fitch turned things over in his head. ‘Where’s Elliot now?’

  ‘Um … he went off to the station.’ She checked her watch. It was five to ten. His train would have left by now. If he’d been telling the truth about getting on it. Leah knew the next question was inevitable.

  ‘Where’s he gone?’

  Leah took in three expectant expressions. ‘I don’t know.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ‘So, why can’t I have my car returned?’ Leah was sitting in Fitch’s passenger seat as he drove them back through Forley.

  ‘You can. DI Byrne needs a word with you first though.’

  ‘About what? I just want to get away from here now. My dad’s expecting me. He has Alzheimer’s and no day carer this afternoon.’

  Fitch nodded, understanding. ‘If that was the same man in your house last night…’

  ‘If? It couldn’t have been anyone else.’ She had to tell DI Byrne about the messages she’d received.

  ‘If it was, he may not be a danger to you now. He called Alice Booth’s home phone.’

  Leah took a moment to absorb what he’d said. ‘When?’

  ‘About fifteen minutes ago. Called the landline. Unlikely to be a crank so soon after the event. Plus he knew the details of the scene too intimately.’