‘My colleague up there will explain.’
She rushed up the six flights of steps to the top flat. The door was unlocked and she could hear voices from inside. Hurrying through the hallway, she turned into the large room they used as a lounge-cum-dining room. It looked like a bomb-site. Every book, picture and piece of paper that had been in the room was now scattered across the floor. Ornaments lay smashed, tables and chairs were overturned. A bottle of tomato ketchup had been sprayed like graffiti over one wall. In the centre of the scene of disaster, a woman police constable stood taking notes from Simon who stood, ashen-faced, in a short-cropped T-Shirt and blue jeans a size too tight.
As she stepped into the room, the two looked up.
‘I’m afraid you’ve had a burglary,’ the WPC explained needlessly.
Judith glanced over towards where the TV, video recorder and CD player used to be.
‘They took my camcorder,’ Simon whimpered.
‘And a lot of other stuff.’ Judith looked around with the feeling that she’d been caught in some surreal drama.
‘The landlord will have to replace all that,’ Simon was, as ever, both self-absorbed and theatrical, ‘but my camcorder was personal property. Brand, spanking new.’
The WPC exchanged a glance with Judith before trying to reassure her. ‘The bedrooms aren’t nearly so bad. But I’d like you to have a good look round yours to see if anything is missing.’
Judith turned, making her way down the short corridor. As she did, she suddenly thought of Merlin de Vere. What if this wasn’t just some random break in? What if it had to do with her Starwear investigations? She made her way hastily into her bedroom. Her ancient desktop computer stood untouched, dwarfing her dressing table. All the computer disks were exactly where she’d left them. She raised a hand to her chest as she glanced about at the overturned drawers and open cupboards. Tough shit if they’d come searching for jewellery, she thought. She didn’t have any of value. Though, as she looked over at her bedside table, she saw her Discman had been stolen. The gold-faced alarm clock her parents had given her when she left for university had been ground into the floor.
She felt emotion well up in her; a powerful and bitter-sweet paradox of relief and anger. The bastards! How dare they invade her private space! She didn’t have much – there’d hardly been anything to steal – but this was the only corner of the world she could call her own. Knowing that some anonymous, malevolent thug had been rifling through all her most intimate belongings only hours before, seeing what he could loot and pillage, made her feel violated. As she fought to retain her composure, anger and loss churned inside.
The WPC knocked on the door. ‘There’s been a lot of it in the area,
I’m afraid,’ she said, seeing Judith glance about her room with an expression of hopelessness. ‘Teenage gangs.’
‘Drugs money,’ Judith’s voice was flat.
‘That’s about the sum of it.’
‘And not a bloody thing we can do.’
‘I’ve left a leaflet on how to improve your security,’ the WPC tried to steer the conversation in a more positive direction. ‘These sorts of people always pick on the easy targets. The harder you make it for them to get in, the less likely they are to try.’
‘How did they get in?’
‘Kitchen window.’
Judith looked up with a weary expression; the kitchen window faced directly on to a fire escape. ‘And how do you suggest we seal that off?’
‘I admit, it might be difficult …’
‘Impossible, more likely.’
‘Yes, well. I can request a Community Liaison Officer comes round to advise you—’
‘I’d sooner you catch the bastards who did this,’ Judith vented her frustration, ‘but I don’t suppose you’ll be sending round the CID to dust the scene of a domestic burglary for fingerprints?’
The WPC met her eyes with a cool expression. ‘Actually, they’ve already been.’
‘Oh.’ Judith glanced away, embarrassed. Up till now, she’d always had the distinct impression that apathy prevailed in the Metropolitan Police when it came to “petty crime”.
‘There’s a gang that’s been active in the Chelsea and South Kensington area,’ the WPC was explaining. ‘They’re getting more and more audacious – there’s been quite a lot of press coverage on them.’
Now that she was reminded, Judith did recall seeing some headlines in the Evening Standard about burglaries.
‘We’ve identified who they are. Special Branch thought this job was another of theirs. But’, she added knowingly, ‘I knew it wasn’t, the moment I arrived.’
Judith looked at her, questioningly.