Blood Symmetry Read Online Free PDF Page A

pressure; everything hinges on what he saw. There’s no family supporting him.’
    Christine gave a slow smile. ‘He’s in safe hands, Alice.’
    She vanished without another word. Her communication style was so cryptic that even her encouragement sounded threatening.
    I sifted through the interview transcripts with Clare Riordan’s friends and colleagues, but they yielded frustratingly little. Her CV showed a woman who had workedtirelessly, becoming a consultant at thirty, serving on a dozen ethics panels and the drug advisory board. It intrigued me that there seemed to be no flaw in her glossy professional record. Her only known conflict had been with her younger sister, Eleanor. They had been locked in a legal battle for two years, cause unspecified. The blank space surrounding Clare Riordan’s life needed to be filled before I could find the reason for her disappearance.
    It was a relief to escape from the office at one thirty. I had arranged to visit the victim’s house in Clapham, hoping the place would reveal details of her personality. I drove south through light midday traffic, my car slipping past Mayfair’s upmarket shops and the mansions of Chelsea. The tone changed when I crossed the river to Battersea. Elegant Georgian squares were replaced by an ocean of glass, high-rise apartment blocks sprawling as far west as the eye could see, testament to the developers’ belief that a river view was worth a king’s ransom.
    Stormont Road was a genteel row of Victorian semis, the green expanse of Clapham Common unfurling in the distance. A police cordon surrounded Clare Riordan’s house and the road was a hive of activity, uniformed officers standing on doorsteps, still conducting house-to-house interviews. I wondered whether Mikey would ever return to the home his mother had maintained so carefully. Limestone steps climbed to a wrought-iron porch, the front door an elegant pale blue, sash windows gleaming. I was opening the gate when a woman of around sixty appeared at my side. She had a hard-eyed stare, the skin around her mouth deeply furrowed, suggesting that her first action each morning was to light a cigarette.
    â€˜Are you with the police?’ she asked.
    â€˜My name’s Alice Quentin, I’m an advisor on the investigation. Do you need to see a detective?’
    â€˜One came by yesterday; I didn’t like his attitude. Disrespectful, I’d say.’ Her small eyes blinked rapidly. ‘Can you spare a minute?’
    She led me into the house next door to Riordan’s. Her lounge was overfilled with furniture, the air too sweet, as if someone had spilled a bottle of cheap scent.
    â€˜I didn’t catch your name,’ I said.
    â€˜Pauline Rowe. I’ve lived here forty years.’
    â€˜And you’ve got some information, Pauline?’
    â€˜It could be nothing.’
    â€˜Don’t worry – small things are often helpful.’
    Her gaze drifted to the floor. ‘It said on the news that Clare was single, but she was seeing someone. I heard them in the garden.’
    â€˜They were talking?’
    â€˜It was more like a full-blown row.’ Her breath rattled as she inhaled.
    â€˜Did you hear what it was about?’
    â€˜Clare was sobbing her heart out. She kept saying “it has to end,” but the bloke was having none of it.’
    â€˜Was this recent?’
    â€˜Two or three weeks ago.’
    â€˜Did you see the man?’
    She shook her head. ‘It had to be her boyfriend. Arguments like that only happen when you’ve got strong feelings.’
    â€˜Do many other people visit her house?’
    â€˜Not really. I saw this couple on her steps a few times. The bloke was smartly dressed, but they could have been Jehovah’s witnesses.’ She paused to light a cigarette.
    â€˜No one else she rowed with?’
    â€˜Just her sister, but she hasn’t been round in a while. That