‘He sounded scared, and I have a hunch he may be in trouble.’
I swung the Buick around a long, curving bend. The house seemed to leap at us in the light of the headlamps. Kerman gave a gasp of alarm as I slammed on the brakes. With a squeal of tortured tyres, I managed to bring the Buick to a skidding standstill a couple of inches from the balustrade that surrounded the courtyard.
‘Why stop?’ Kerman said, mopping his face. ‘Why not drive slap into the house? You know I hate walking.’
‘Your nerves are bad,’ I said, a little pop-eyed myself. ‘The trouble with you is you drink too much.’
I got out of the car and he followed me.
Parked to the left of the front entrance was a big, glittering battleship of a car with the parkers on.
Except for a light that spilled through an open casement doorway on to the far end of the terrace, the house was in darkness.
‘Do we ring or go in that way?’ Kerman asked, jerking his thumb towards the lighted window.
‘We’ll take a look in there first. If no one’s around, we’ll ring. Got your gun handy?’
‘Here. You have it,’ Kerman said generously, and thrust the .45 into my hand. ‘It spoils the set of my suit.’