Chapter Twenty-Seven
Assertive Action
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A S IT TRANSPIRED, ROGER hadn’t left it to Graham to deal with the house on Ocean Gardens alone. Roger had turned out to have a contact in the local police, and one call from him had instigated a chain reaction that had seen a local cop call Graham shortly afterward.
Graham shouldn’t have been surprised. Roger had a finger in a lot of pies. The police service was only one influential peer.
“The owner has asked that we do a check on his property,” the cop, who’d introduced himself as Sullivan, was saying. “He tells me you manage his property portfolio. Is that right, Mr. Harrison?”
“It’s Graham,” he told the cop, who didn’t sound much older than fifteen years of age. “And yes, I handle all of Roger’s portfolio.”
“Can you meet us at the house on Ocean Gardens, Graham?” Sullivan asked. “Your client inferred there was some urgency to his request.”
Graham’s brow rose at the question. As far as he was aware, there were hardly enough police to go around for all the serious incidents in the region. How on Earth had Roger managed to free any of their limited resources for something as trivial as potential squatters in his house?
Whoever Roger knew must have been important.
“I can be there in fifteen minutes.” Graham glanced out at the choppy gray water and shivered.
However Roger had achieved the endeavor, it was good news that the matter was being expedited. The sooner he got out of the shabby seaside town, the better.
“Excellent, thank you, sir,” Sullivan replied. “See you then.”
It’s Graham.
Graham rolled his eyes. “See you then.”
Ending the call, Graham exhaled. The day had not panned out the way he’d expected, but Sullivan’s intervention might just be his silver lining.
If the police got inside the house that day, Graham would know what he was dealing with and could organize a team of cleaners and decorators to get in there so Roger could sell the place.
That would mean one happy client, while he could get the hell out of the grim little place. He smiled, despite the so-far wasted drive.
Roger had manifested him a win-win situation.
***
P ULLING UP OUTSIDE the house ten minutes later, Graham switched on the parking brake and peered out at the bleak house.
Light was fading around them, the horizon a dim streak of cloud stretching in all directions.
There were still no obvious signs of someone breaking in, probably because the bastard had changed the locks, but it was impossible to ascertain more than that.
The net curtains Roger had insisted on leaving in place at the windows meant Graham couldn’t tell if there was movement inside.
Someone must have gained entry, though, to have changed the locks. Someone was in there enjoying the place for free while Roger was occupied elsewhere.
That wasn’t right.
Switching on the radio, he flicked through the stations and waited for the cop to show.
He hoped the cavalry arrived without ceremony, or else they risked frightening off anyone who might be lurking inside.
Graham wasn’t one for confrontation, but he’d prefer the police dealt with them then and there, rather than allowing any potential intruder to slink away.
Better that they met the police and faced the consequences.
He was certain Roger would want to press charges.
The noise of a car garnered his attention, and glancing in his rearview mirror, he saw the cop car pull up behind him. Thankful the vehicle had arrived in silence, Graham slipped out of the car and went to meet Sullivan.
“Are you Mr. Harrison?” The officer, who didn’t look any older than he sounded, slid his police radio into place as he stretched out a hand to greet Graham.
“It’s Graham,” he reminded the cop. “Yes, that’s me.”
“Thanks for meeting us.” Sullivan gestured to the officer beside him. “This is P.C. Latham.”
Graham’s gaze traveled to the uniformed woman at his side. She was probably a couple of years older than her colleague, but looked even less sure of herself.
“Is this the property, Mr. Harrison?” She signaled to the uninviting property Roger owned.
“That’s the one,” Graham confirmed. He’d just about given up asking them to use his first name.
“Do you have the keys, sir?” Sullivan asked.
“Yes,” Graham dug them out of his pocket and offered them to the officers. “But they don’t work. The locks on the front and back doors have been changed.”
“We’re going to see if we can obtain entry.” Latham shot Sullivan a stare. “Perhaps you can stay here, sir, until we’re inside.”
“Fine.” Graham folded his arms across his chest, wishing Roger had never bought the house.
He watched as the two cops walked the short length of path to the front of the house and knocked on the door.
“Hello?” Latham’s voice was so loud, he heard it from the street. “This is the police. We need you to open up, please.”
Graham resisted the urge to sigh. He could have bloody well achieved that much for himself.
“Police!” Her rapping on the door was louder that time, the noise startling a gull who’d landed nearby. “Open up!”
When no one presented themselves for inspection, the officers conferred before Sullivan walked to the side of the property and disappeared past the gate to enter the back of the house. Latham, in the meantime, appeared to be trying to get the keys he’d given her to fit the lock at the front.
“Genius,” Graham muttered. “We’ll be in there in no time.”
Long moments passed when the wind whipped around the coast to harass Graham further, and eventually, Sullivan reappeared from the rear, returning to his colleague. Graham looked on as the two slowly wandered back in his direction.
“There’s no answer, sir.” Latham turned her back to the breeze. “And the keys don’t work.”
“Yes.” Graham forced the word out through gritted teeth. “That’s why Roger wanted your help.”
“Since we didn’t get a reply and we can’t gain entry ourselves, we have the inspector’s permission to break the door down.” Sullivan sounded like he was reading pre-prepared words from a script. “I’ll get the equipment.”
Latham’s hand rose to her radio as she proceeded to report their alleged progress back to their superiors.
Another gust of wind blew in from the shore, sending her short red hair flying in all directions.
Graham waited as she concluded her report, and Sullivan arrived with what looked like a small battering ram.
“Do you know how to use that thing?” Graham motioned to the equipment in his hands.
“We’re fully trained, sir,” Latham assured him. “Please make sure you stand back while we get inside. We don’t know who, if anyone, is in residence at this point.”
No shit.
“I’ll stay here.” Resignation echoed in Graham’s voice as the two cops left him by the roadside.
It was going to be a long day.