King's Ransom

Alex sat upright in bed. The room was growing dark and the blinds were rattling in the wind. A light from the street cast a faint red glow on the far wall of his room. He was still tired, but he climbed out of bed and looked out through the open window into the dusk.
The red light was coming from the house opposite - an alarm on the wall between the two first floor windows. There was no noise, just one bulb glowing steadily. Did that mean there had been a break-in or not? Alex tried to remember who lived in the house. Not that it mattered, he thought to himself. He had no intention of going over there.
The road was on a steep slope, and further down the sky was brighter, the railway bridge drawing a silhouette below a swell of cloud that glowed orange underneath, but grew darker as it ascended until it was hard to tell where the cloud ended and the night sky began. Alex sighed, then moved away from the window and went to the small adjoining kitchen, where he flicked the switch on the kettle. As far as he could tell, his flatmate, Dave, hadn't been in since the night before; this was unusual, although Alex wasn't overly worried. The two of them had known each other since their first year of university, and were supposed to be the best of friends, but in truth Alex was beginning to tire of his friend's idleness.
The sound of a car pulling up outside brought Alex back to the window. It was a police car: two officers, a man and a woman, got out. To investigate the burglary, he supposed - but no, they were coming towards his own building. The buzz of the intercom by his left shoulder made him jump. A chain of half-implausible scenarios ran through his head.
"Hello?" he spoke into the metal panel.
"Hello. Is that Mr Schofield?"
"Hi. Yes," he replied.
"This is PC Wood and PC O'Connor from the Wiltshire police. We're here about your flatmate. Can we come in?"
"Oh! Of course... hang on..." Alex pushed the button to release the lock on the front door, turned on the lights and went out onto the landing to meet his visitors at the top of the stairs. He suddenly felt guilty - should he have been more worried when he'd realised that Dave hadn't returned last night?
"Please, sit down," he said as he led them in. He pulled his swivel chair away from the computer desk and over to the corner beside an armchair. "Would you like a cup of tea? I'm afraid Dave - er, Mr Johnson - my flatmate - I'm afraid he's not in at the moment."
The male officer frowned and turned to his partner, who was looking at Alex intently.
"Mr Schofield, we had a phone call about an hour ago from a man giving your name, reporting Mr Johnson to be missing," he said.
Alex looked puzzled. "Missing? I'm sorry, you must be..." He stopped to gather his thoughts. "My name? Are you sure? I haven't seen Dave since last night, but I certainly didn't think it was worth calling the police about."
The officer nodded and coughed. He checked his notebook. "And the call was from the number registered to this address," he confirmed.
Alex tried frantically to think of a rational explanation. He sat down on the corner of the bed and looked at his guests. The woman was still staring at him. She was short, middle-aged, and had shoulder-length blonde hair. Her partner was taller and younger, with red hair and a long nose.
"That's impossible", he said finally. "I was asleep until about ten minutes ago. I mean, I left the window open, but the phone is right by my bed... I'd have heard if anyone had come in."
"Is that the only phone in the flat?" asked the man, looking around.
"Well, no, there's one in Dave's room, but the rooms have separate locks," Alex replied, doing his best to work his way through the facts.
"Does anyone else have a key?" The female officer had peeled her gaze from him for the first time and was now inspecting the room as if she thought he might have another telephone hidden away somewhere.
"Only the landlady, and she lives miles away. Lincoln, I think."
"And is the room locked now?" The questions were coming thick and fast, and Alex was becoming disconcerted.
"Well, I presume so. I can check..." he began, and made to rise from the bed. He was interrupted by the woman, who was beginning to annoy him.
"Allow me," she said, standing up sharply. "Is it the door across the landing?"
"Yes. And there's another off the kitchen."
"Steve?" She looked at her partner and gestured towards the kitchen. Alex sat, still shocked, while they checked the two doors. He coughed - his throat was completely dry. He didn't know what to think. He was concerned for Dave, although he was sure the mysterious call must just have been some kind of elaborate prank.
"Locked?" the female officer asked her partner on re-entering the room. He nodded. She turned her glare back to Alex. "When did you last see your flatmate, Mr Schofield?"
"Last night," he replied. "About... eight o'clock, I guess. He was going out to meet a friend down in town. Vik something or other. Ballantyne. Vik lives with his parents I think - I don't have their phone number. I don't really know him that well."
"How about Mr Johnson's next of kin? Do you know his parents?" She was back into her stride.
"They live in Hither Green - just south of London. Geoff and Val. I don't have their number either, I'm afraid."
The woman took down the details, then paused before looking up at him again. She had taken charge of the situation, and was clearly trying to decide how to proceed. The other officer was checking the telephone line.
"Is there anywhere else he might have gone?"
Alex swept his fringe out of his eyes and tried to think. "Nowhere that really springs to mind," he said, trying to remain calm. "He - we have other friends around about, he could be with any of them. I can make a list if you like."
She nodded. "Thanks," She scanned the room carefully once more before coming to a decision. "Right. We'll leave you in peace for now, but there'll be someone around later to ask you a few more questions and pick up that list. In the meantime if you could stay here and let us know if Mr Johnson turns up, that would be very helpful."
"Of course," replied Alex. "If there's anything else I can do..."
"It's fine, Mr Schofield. I'm sure we'll be in touch again very soon," she finished.
Alex showed them out, then paced around the room trying to decide what to do next. His first reaction was to ring someone to talk over what had happened, but he thought he should leave the line free in case Dave rang. The night was now fully dark, and he walked back over to the window to watch the car turn around and drive off back down the road. A train passed noisily through the darkness below. Alex shivered. One of the street lights was broken, flickering on occasionally to cast a new tide of shadows across the pavement. The alarm light was still burning too, and together the bulbs threw an orange pall over the scene. Alex felt suddenly afraid, the events of the evening running through his head as the metallic smell from the window frame swamped his senses. He closed his eyes and collapsed on the bed.