Blood Line by Lynda La Plante Page A

is away I collect their mail for them.’
    ‘How long have you been working here?’
    ‘Three years. I do all the owner’s places. He’s got three blocks of flats and I check them all out. The bins sometimes are overflowing and the council don’t collect as regular as they used to.’
    ‘Have you ever found anything suspicious?’
    He wrinkled his nose and said he didn’t know what she meant.
    ‘Well, anything unusual?’
    ‘Oh no. Just some tenants tie up their rubbish in black bin liners and if they don’t put them in the bins, dogs or cats or whatever can scavenge and rip them open. You’d be surprised, we got foxes around here. Dunno where they come from, but I’ve seen big bushy-tailed ones.’
    ‘Are you aware that Mr Alan Rawlins has disappeared?’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘The tenant of flat two. He lives with his girlfriend, Tina Brooks.’
    ‘Oh yeah, I know who you mean. I didn’t know he was missing. Where’s he gone?’
    Anna smiled and said they were trying to find out. She then asked for details of the other tenants. The caretaker walked over to a small desk and took out a list of names, saying that as he didn’t do cleaning in individual flats he only saw them on odd occasions. There was an elderly Jewish couple in flat three, flats four and five were Iranians and flat six was a single woman.
    ‘Could you tell me who owns the building?’
    ‘You mean the landlord?’
    ‘Yes, the person that owns this building.’
    ‘Doesn’t live here.’
    ‘His name and contact number will do.’
    ‘He’s Iranian. Owns two or three blocks like this one and only ever comes over a couple of times a year. Prefers to live in his beach-front condo in Morocco.’
    ‘And his name is . . .?’
    ‘Mr Desai.’
    ‘What about flat one?’
    ‘Mr Phillips, youngish bloke, drives a nice Lotus and works in the City.’
    ‘Is he at home?’
    ‘I don’t know. I’ve been polishing the floor. I’ll be here for a while as I’m waitin’ on a delivery for Miss Brooks.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘She ordered new carpet.’
    ‘But isn’t the flat rented?’
    ‘Yes, but they are semi-furnished flats, rented with just the necessary. Tenants can bring in whatever else they need.’
    They thanked Jonas and went towards flat one as he turned on his polishing machine again.
    ‘That’s odd, isn’t it?’ Paul said as he rang the doorbell.
    When there was no answer, Anna suggested that Phillips was probably at work, and said they should go from flat to flat to see if there was anyone at home. She too thought it was suspicious about the new carpet, but said nothing.
    They got no answer from flats four and five either. When they rang the doorbell of flat six there was the sound of a dog yapping. It continued its noise as they pressed the doorbell twice more before it was inched open.
    ‘Yes?’ The woman’s face was partly hidden.
    ‘Miss Jewell?’
    ‘Yes? What do you want?’
    Anna showed her ID and introduced herself and Paul. The door closed, the safety chain was unlinked and the door opened wider.
    Miss Jewell was no more than forty, but she was frail and very thin. She held a small terrier under her arm with one hand over its mouth as it gave a throttled growl.
    ‘Has there been a burglary?’
    ‘No. Could we just talk to you for a moment?’
    Miss Jewell reluctantly led them into a beige-coloured sitting room, which had a lot of shabby furniture unlike Tina Brooks’s sparse flat. It was a smaller place in comparison, more like a studio, and, as it was at the top of the block, it had sloping ceilings.
    Anna and Paul sat down as the small bedraggled dog was shut in the kitchen; it yapped for a while and then went quiet.
    ‘Don’t worry about Trigger, he doesn’t bite, but he’s a wonderful guard dog,’ Miss Jewell said as she perched on the edge of a bright green bucket chair. If she sat back any further her legs would have lifted off the ground. Anna and Paul were seated on a sofa covered with blankets and