Snow Storm by Robert Parker

made
his way through the entrance porch back to the driveway and out
onto the street where he found Campbell and Jones looking decidedly
non-plussed.
    “ Well what
have you got for me?” he asked expectantly.
    “ Not a
sausage boss,” Campbell said rubbing his eyes like it had been a
rough day, seemingly oblivious to the fact it was only half past
ten.
    Jones shook
her head, “Nobody saw or heard anything.”
    “ I don’t
actually understand it,” Campbell exclaimed. “It’s not like you can
just rock up to a place like this, armed to the teeth like some
kind of conspiracy nut, pummel the shit out of a house and its
owner and go unnoticed. They must have made some noise, even with
silencers, or at least been quite visible. I mean the guy had
electric gates. You don’t just shin over them with half a ton of
metal over your shoulder and not create a ruckus.”
    “ Suggests he
knew whoever it was doesn’t it?” Jones volunteered.
    “ Not as well
as he thought.” Campbell replied.
    “ Who did you
actually speak to?” Burke asked.
    “ Aye well
that’s the thing Sir. We spoke to the au pair on this side.”
Campbell pointed to the left hand side of the house. Owners are a
couple of lawyers but she said she was on all night and she never
heard a peep. She sleeps on the side next to the victims house,
says her employers didn’t mention anything at
breakfast.”
    “ What about
the other side?”
    “ Stay at home
mum. How do people afford these places? Anyway she never heard a
thing, sleeps on the other side of the building though. Kids aren’t
old enough to be interviewed or at least make sense,” Jones
said.
    “ Maternal
instinct’s strong with this one boss,” Campbell added looking at
Jones, who frowned in response.
    “ Over the
road?” Burke asked, ignoring the pantomime act.
    “ Couple of
pensioners. Both seemed a bit doddery, possibly hard of hearing,
saw nothing, they were busy watching a documentary on the Discovery
Channel most of the night, that one about dolphins, classic, anyway
the old boy fell asleep in his chair and woke up about one a.m.
stumbled upstairs but saw nothing. His wife was out like a light
already, she’d gone after the ten o’clock news. Didn’t feel up to
Newsnight. Rock and Roll eh?” Campbell looked around for approval
at this and finding no real interest moved on. “Next one along was
another au pair. She wasn’t home but her employers were, so I’ll
check back with them later, as well as with the other ones on the
left hand side.”
    “ Good stuff,”
Burke replied. “Keep it up. You never know what you’ll turf
up.”
    They both looked at him
and nodded as he gestured for them to continue.
    He wandered back inside,
past the accumulation of gore and through to the rooms beyond. To
the left there was a fairly formal living area which seemed to
double as an office. A large imposing desk sat at the far end of
the room. It would have completely swamped most rooms but not this
one with its high ceilings and imposing woodwork. The empty base of
a think pad sat in the middle of the desk. He hoped Scene of Crime
had that.
    To the side there were
some brown chesterfields congregated round a granite fireplace,
above which, there hung a flat screen looking more than a little
incongruous. The previous day’s papers were scattered on the coffee
table and various empty cups gathered dust as they waited to be
cleared.
    Burke didn’t need to look
much further to know Karpov was a single man.
    On the other side of the
hallway stood a more formal living room, clearly never used, not a
sign of a screen in there.
    To the rear there was a
kitchen which had not as yet been anointed with the status they
generally were these days, especially in this area. It was bereft
of a glass extension. There was no AGA or even fitted units to
speak of, just a tiled floor, some old cupboards and an overhanging
washing pulley that had doubtless seen the smalls of generations.
The empty food