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Footsteps passed by outside, very soft, as though bare-foot Mort alore expensive shoes She remembered that of him; he'd prided himself on his appearance, and there was no way he'd have left the house in anything other than exquisite dress

Jazz had still not moved, for fear that the detector was active --but if it was, then whoever was out there would have set it off If Mort had returned, then heRemote control, perhaps?

If it wasn't Mort, then she had to see as out there

Wincing, preparing herself for the shriek of the alar happened She let out a sigh of relief, then a groan as pins and needles rushed into her leg

Kneeling, she looked under the door, able to see right across the hallway The dark-oak floor was highly polished, broken up here and there with rugs, and across the hall stood at least two closed doors She turned and looked to the left, just in time to see a foot lift out of view onto the staircase It had been wearing soft-looking shoes, like a dancer's And noas gone

Jazz's heart thumped Who could it be? Maid? Cleaner? But no, not if Mort had set the alar for the foot's owner to come back down But there was no more moveht then it was all she could think of There would have been no reason for Mort to set the alar to be someone in the house; therefore, he did not know So whoever owned that soft-shoed foot was not supposed to be here

Jazz took a deep breath and considered her options She could turn around and leave, pick up the others and go back down below, tell Harry that someone had beaten them to it But that felt like failure, and it also meant that she would have no more opportunity to find out about Mort, his relationship with the mayor, and what it had to do with her and

Muet her mum The owner of this house had been there when she was murdered --not in the same room perhaps, but certainly in the sa as her throat was slit and the air rushed fros, blood spewed from her arteries

No, if Jazz left now, it was not only knowledge that would elude her It was soently turned it When she felt the latch disengage, she opened the door an inch and peered through the crack The hallas large, hung with several expensive-looking paintings and adorned with four huge porcelain vases on their own metal stands The porce-lain was cracked and chipped in a couple of places, which meant that they were old and probably worth a lot

She'd save them for on the way out

The staircase ide and it curved up and to the left Banister and newel posts were ornately carved from oak and polished tothat overlooked the hall, and there was no one in sight Whoever had cli the second floor

He or she doesn't know I'ht Need to keep it that way She slipped off her trainers, tied the laces, and slung them around her neck Her socks left sweaty imprints on the floor as she walked across the hallway, but by the time she reached the stairs and looked back, they were already fading away Like a ghost's, she thought, and smiled

She stood on the lower stair The whole first floor was available to her to explore There could be a study down here, a drawing room, library, other places where she could find stuff worth taking and perhaps soered the short folding knife in her pocket and looked at the paintings, and the urge to destroy was great She hoped that Mort loved this place, hoped that his parents had handed all these nice things down to hi to ruin them Petty and basic, maybe, but it would make her feel a little bit better

But upstairs called to her Whoever the other person in the house was, they seeo up Which led Jazz to believe that they knew so she did not

She cli at the top had one door at the end, which was closed, and beside this another, sht, a corridor branched away, lit by open doors

She peered around the corner, counting two doors on each side and another corridor at right angles at the end Many places to hide, and e and surprise her

She fingered the knife again Considered opening it Decided against it If it was a h what to do A swift kick to the balls, love, and then a knee in the face when they double up in pain A blokes life is led by what's between his legs, so it follows that it'll hurt the most

And if it was a wolanced onceShe went to it, put her ear against the wood, then pressed the handle The door clicked open and she peered through A clean, spartan bedroom: one bed and a chair, a shtly and turned back to the corridor leading deeper into the house

She feared creaking floorboards, yet found none Though the outside presented a different picture, the inside of this house ell kept It was old, yes, but it reeked of care and of money well spent The wallpaper in this corridor probably cost more per roll than some people earned in afro from expensive carpets And that made her think: What can you steal from someone who has so much, to dom with a back-pack filled with stuff to sell But she would also find so priceless beyond money She knew that it would be here, and she was confident it could be found

There were picture fraraphs of people and places that must be personal to the owner She paused to look at a couple that showed Mort s on some exotic seafront She wondered who had taken the picture, and the thought of soht be, would they knohat he was? Would they understand?

She moved on and paused beside the first two open doors, directly opposite each other The one on the left smelled like a bathroom, damp from a recent shower and loaded with aftershave aroht led into another bedrooed a few more inches forward, she saw the messed-up bed, open wardrobe, and clothes strewn across a chaise longue There was a azine open on the bed, and even from here she could see the pale spread of naked flesh

Char half open, led into further bedroo any touches that indicated they were used There was no sign of the intruder