On the drive back to Hammersmith, Dick suggested supper at the Italian restaurant in King Street; afterwards, Dick drove to her flat in Brook Green, and Jane asked him in, stressing that the invitation was for coffee and coffee alone.
It was after eleven. Out of consideration to the other tenants, they crept upstairs in silence, without switching on lights.
‘I’m in my usual chaos,’ she said as she pushed open the door and grabbed a handful of underclothes that she had left on the radiator. ‘Bathroom’s through there if you want it. I’ll stuff these in a drawer and put the kettle on. Find yourself a chair, won’t you?’ She went through to her bedroom.
She was not one of those people who claim to have extrasensory powers, but, strangely, the moment she stepped into the bedroom she felt uneasy. Someone had been in there while she was out. Whether it was the trace of an unfamiliar odour or pure intuition on her part, she didn’t know. It was a sensation she had never experienced before.
She stowed the undies away and changed into a white cashmere jumper, then sat at her dressing-table trying to ignore the feeling. She put on fresh lipstick and a dab of Miss Dior, raised a smile in the mirror and got up to attend to the coffee. Then she froze. She had proof that someone had been in there.
On the white table beside her bed were various things she liked to have handy: paper hankies, a couple of books, aspirins, a felt-tip pen, a notebook and a digital alarm clock with a narrow rectangular face. It was the clock that fixed her attention. The digits for hours and minutes glowed red and were separated by two pulsating points. After she had bought the clock, she had found that the reflection on the white surface of the table disturbed her sleep, so she always positioned it facing away from the pillow, at the forward edge. If she wanted to see the time in the night, she had only to wriggle down in the bed a few inches.
The clock had been moved. Someone had turned it towards the pillow.
‘Dick!’
‘Yes?’
‘Would you come in here?’
She told him.
‘You’re certain? You couldn’t have moved it yourself as you got up this morning?’
‘I know I didn’t.’
‘You’d better check that nothing is missing. Your jewellery.’
Foolish, she thought, to leave it in such an obvious place as the dressing-table. She didn’t possess much, some rings and necklaces and an antique silver brooch, but what she had was precious for all sorts of reasons.
She opened the left-hand drawer. Everything was in its usual place in the padded ebony box she had bought as a teenager in Paris.
‘Nothing gone?’
‘No.’
‘What else do you have of value? Was there any cash lying around?’
‘No. I had it with me.’
‘Credit cards?’
‘In my bag.’
‘Passport?’
She went through to the living room and checked the filing cabinet. ‘I think it must be missing … I’d better call the police.’
Dick was looking along the collection of letters, ornaments and photos on the mantelpiece. He picked out the passport and handed it to her. ‘I don’t think we should call them.’
‘Why not? Somebody has definitely been here while I was out.’
‘Your landlord? I expect he has a key.’
‘I’ll phone him.’
‘It’s late.’
‘He won’t mind. I need to know, Dick. I feel quite creepy.’
Dick shook his head. ‘Better not use the phone in the flat.’
She stared at him.
He said, ‘I’ll ask the people downstairs if they heard anything. Just to be sure.’
While Dick was gone, she wanted to check things, but she couldn’t. She knew what it meant to be paralysed with fear.
He came back quickly. ‘You’re right,’ he told her. ‘They heard movements about an hour ago. They assumed it was you.’ He faced her and put his hands on her arms. ‘Did you make any notes at Cedric’s last weekend?’
She frowned, then understood the drift of his thinking. ‘A few things. In the notebook beside my bed.’ She shivered.
‘And the interviews in the week. Did you tape them?’
‘They weren’t worth the trouble.’ Jane ran her fingers distractedly through her hair. ‘Dick, who do you think has been here?’
‘Someone who got wind of what we’re up to. Some crazy journalist from one of the tabloids wanting to find out more, I wouldn’t be surprised. Or a freelance, or even one of our respectable rivals.’
‘They’d break into my flat?’ said Jane in disbelief.
‘If they thought we were on to something really big. And we probably are, which is why we can’t tell the police. Do you understand, Jane?’
She nodded.
‘You’re taking it well.’
‘I shall probably scream in a moment.’
He put his arm around her shoulder. ‘Would you like me to make that coffee? Then I think I should check whether my own place has been broken into. Want to come with me?’
‘Please.’
‘You might like to bring a few things with you and spend the night there.’ Before she could respond, he added, ‘I do have a spare bedroom.’
Jane thanked him. She couldn’t face the night here, knowing that someone had come and gone with such ease, and not knowing why they had come or whether they might return. It wasn’t like having the place ransacked by thieves. It was sinister. It made her flesh creep.
When they got to Dick’s place, he checked it minutely and pronounced it exactly as he had left it. So Jane passed the night in the spare bed and lay awake for hours trying to decide whether to call Cedric in the morning and resign from the team.