‘We just have a few questions for him, that’s all.’
‘I’m sure he’d help if he could. He seems such a nice fellow. Came right over and introduced himself when he arrived last week, just to put my mind at rest.’
Cody frowns. ‘Okay, thank you. You mind if we check the place out before we go? Make sure it’s secure?’
‘No. Feel free.’
She returns to her flower beds. Cody opens a gate on the side path and starts heading towards the rear of the house, Webley close behind him.
Cody says, ‘Did you hear that?’
‘What?’ Webley asks.
‘What Mrs Irlam said. She said Bobby came over and introduced himself last week.’
‘So?’
‘So, Bobby told us that he’d looked after the house several times in the past. If that’s true, why has Mrs Irlam never met him before now?’
They reach the French doors overlooking the patio. Cody tries one of the handles. It’s unlocked. He opens the door and puts his head inside.
‘Police officers! Anyone here?’
Silence for a few seconds. And then a noise from deeper within the house. As though something has been knocked over upstairs.
‘You hear that?’ he says to Webley.
‘Yeah. You think Bobby came back?’
‘Could be. Or maybe Oliver Selby is hiding in there somewhere.’
‘You want me to request backup?’
Cody shakes his head, even though he’s feeling a little apprehensive about this himself.
‘Police!’ Cody calls out again. ‘Show yourself!’
No answer.
Cody and Webley check out the rooms downstairs and find nothing. They head upstairs, Cody leading.
‘Police officers! We’re coming upstairs! Come out now!’
He gets halfway up. There’s a noise, a sudden flurry of movement. Something races down the stairs at him.
‘Shit!’
It’s a cat.
Cody remembers that Bobby said he was looking after the cat as well as the house. He watches the fretful creature fly past, then he smiles nervously at Webley. They continue upwards. On the landing they pick a door at random and enter.
The curtains are partially closed in here, casting a dull grey wash over the room. It takes a few seconds for Cody to make sense of what his eyes are telling him.
And then he emits a guttural cry.
Trailing in behind him, Webley sees what he sees and lets out a yelp.
‘Jesus fucking Christ!’
They’re in one of the bedrooms. On the bed in the centre of the room is a naked man, a cloth covering his face.
It’s not just the unmistakeable smell that tells Cody the man is dead.
A bigger clue is that the man’s internal organs are no longer internal: they are piled up on his chest and abdomen.
Cody retches. Swallows to hold down his stomach contents. He feels a wave of panic starting to overwhelm him, to drown him. He is back in that warehouse, clowns circling him, his toes already snipped off with a garden lopper, listening to the screams of his partner as his face is surgically removed…
He has to get out of here. This is too much. He turns to make his escape. Sees Webley looking at him, waiting for him to take the lead.
Don’t run! he tells himself. Deal with it!
He turns slowly back to the body, takes tentative steps towards it, his eyes fixed on the glistening wet coils of intestines, the mounds of dark offal, soaked in blood. So much blood.
‘What the fuck?’ Webley says. ‘Is that Oliver Selby?’
Cody moves closer. With the tips of his trembling fingers, he grasps the corner of the cloth on the man’s face and raises it.
‘Oh, shit!’
