Guilty Conscious, Oliver Davies [small books to read TXT] 📗

muttered, ducking under the police tape and sticking the key in the door.

“Slim,” Mills replied. “Billie, on the other hand…” He trailed off, and I irritably shouldered the door open, flicking the lights on, and storming along to the little kitchen. There was a small door to one side that we hadn’t seen, an ironing board leaning against it, and I shoved it aside, unlocking the door and feeling the wall inside for another switch. My fingers found their mark, and the lights fluttered on, leading us down to the dingy basement where a few old washing machines sat, the smell of detergent lingering on the brick walls, some slightly rusty drying racks stacked in the corner.

“Here,” Mills said, leaning behind a stack of two tumble dryers.

I joined him, peering round to where the metal door was bedded into the wall. It was a narrow squeeze for someone to get down, so together, we hauled the machines back, wide enough for me to look down. A dark mark stained the bricks, smudged against the wall around hand level. I frowned and stepped closer to the door, avoiding touching the mark.

The door was an old, solid thing that looked like it had been put in during the war, rusty hinges and dust hanging over it. Except, I noted, on the handle. I pulled a pair of gloves from my back pocket and yanked them on, reaching for the handle and pushing down. It creaked but gave way, and the door pushed outwards from the room.

I peered out, finding us on a lower floor, in a small sort of yard. I stepped out, aware of Mills taking a few pictures behind me, and looked at the towering stone walls around us, a set of metal stairs going up to street level. They were chained off at the top, and as I walked up, I realised the whole thing was hidden by large bushes that camouflaged the pit. A few cigarette buts were left on the floor, some spray paint on one of the walls, and I had to guess that Grayson was wrong. There were probably plenty of people who knew about this place. Maybe not the door and its access into the building, as from the outside it was barely visible, the only handle was on the inside. A brick was tucked into the corner where it might be propped open to let the heat from the laundry room outside.

“A way out,” I said aloud after we looked around in silence for a while. “But how did they get in?”

“Maybe it was already open,” Mills suggested. He squatted down by the door, looking it over from the outside. There was the other side of the handle, and he tapped it with a finger. “We have one like this in my parents’ house, in the bathroom. Always jams, and when someone got stuck in, my dad would use a coin to turn the lock.”

I walked over, fishing my wallet from my pocket, and handed him a coin. He carefully held it in the ridge and twisted, the handle on the other side flipping as he did. I gave him a pat on the back, almost knocking him from his haunch.

“Good old-fashioned policing,” I muttered. “So, we’ve got a way in and a way out. Let’s call forensics in, see if there’s anything for them to find.”

“That mark on the wall in there looks fairly suspect.”

“I know,” I agreed with a grimace, pulling my phone out. Mills pocketed the coin with a grin, and I sent him back up to inform Grayson of the situation as I rang for forensics to come down.

Once they were on route, I propped the door open with the brick and climbed up the metal stairs again, peering out over the hedges. The path was one random, long trail that the students would hurry along buildings every day, and other paths forked from it to get to specific areas or out towards the main exit. It probably looped around to the courtyard, too, I realised, the thought staying with me as I hopped down. Mills stuck his head outside.

“Campus security is doing their thing; I’ll wait outside for the team.”

I nodded and waved him on, happy to stand out here for a while. I decided to call Elinor as I waited to see if she had any news. She wouldn’t call during the day, never did unless it was an emergency. As usual, she answered straight away.

“Hiya, Max.”

“Hiya, Elinor. How are you?”

“I’m alright, love. Tired, but alright. What about you? Did you get home okay?” Her voice was slightly muffled, and I could hear her rustling around. She’d put me on speaker, I realised, likely as she pottered around the kitchen.

“I did, ta. Any news?”

“Yes,” she replied. There was a pause, and then when she spoke again, her voice was clearer. “They’re saying it looks like arrhythmia, and they’re putting her on medication. She should be fine,” Elinor was quick to assure me. “The doctors don’t seem too worried.”

“It’s their job not to look worried, Elinor.”

She scoffed down the phone at me. “I saw her this morning when she woke up.”

“What did she say?”

“To tell you not to, and I quote here Max, to get your sorry knickers in a twist over her.”

I laughed, “of course she did.”

“I’m popping over there late when visitors are allowed. Will you be able to come?”

I looked around the little hole I was in. “Not today,” I answered bleakly, and she caught onto my tone.

“How goes the investigation?”

I sighed deeply. “Not an easy one, this one.”

“They have to give you the difficult ones,” she told me plainly. “No one else can do ‘em.”

“I’ll be sure to let my co-workers know how much faith you have in them, El.”

“By all means, I’m allowed to be biased from time to time.”

I smiled down at the phone. “I’ll visit as soon as I can. Give her my love for me, though.”

“Of course, my love. Don’t