False Step Read Online Free

long enough to ask, ‘Is there something, Mrs Abbot? I’m afraid the plumber’s got bad news. He’s found a patch of damp so we shan’t be back downstairs for quite a while. We’ll have to get the computers working on the ground floor, somehow.’
    â€˜Sorry, both of you,’ said Bea. ‘I know I’m in a foul temper, but this is not directed at you. Oliver, if the computers are down, can you still find me Florrie’s mobile phone number?’
    Oliver, computer geek that he was, had his laptop up and running. ‘Just a sec … I think … yes, here it is. I’ve got this programme now which asks all our clients to keep their mobile numbers updated. Yes, I’ve got it. Shall I get her on the landline for you?’
    Bea told herself that he was worth his weight in gold and she ought not to be cross with him. It didn’t do any good. If he’d come within reach of her hand, he’d have got his ears boxed. Maggie, too.
    Oliver handed the phone to Bea but stayed close, listening. Maggie cut off her own phone and draped her length against the doorway, also anxious to hear what had made the usually calm Mrs Abbot lose her temper.
    â€˜Florrie Green,’ said Bea, grinding out the words, ‘you dropped me right in it, didn’t you? I want you here, at my house, within ten minutes.’
    Florrie had had time to think what line she should take. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Mrs Abbot. What am I supposed to have done?’
    â€˜The police want to interview you about finding the body. Naturally I cooperated, told them everything. I gave them your home address but just in case you can come up with a good explanation for your actions, I said I wasn’t sure where you’d be working this afternoon, so you’d better get over here and brief me properly before they get round to you.’ She crashed the phone down.
    Oliver narrowed his eyes. ‘Florrie found the body and told you it was natural causes. She left you there and went off to work? You found out it couldn’t be natural causes and called the police. Is that right?’
    â€˜There was a pack of pills, empty, at his bedside. Ditto a dead bottle of wine. A note saying “Sorry.” That enough for you?’
    He was still hoping. ‘Not murder?’
    Bea told herself she was not going to scream at him, but perhaps the look in her eye informed him that he’d better make himself scarce. Which he did.
    Maggie went into mother hen mode. ‘You poor thing. Shall I get you a cup of coffee, some herbal tea? Oh, by the way, Mr Max rang here again and sounded quite cross that he couldn’t get hold of you. He’s out for the evening but will ring you again tomorrow, if that’s all right.’
    â€˜Did he, now? Well, it can’t be anything very urgent. As for tea; no, thank you. I made tea for the police. I gave a statement. I was totally helpful, and calm and … I could kill Florrie! She knew perfectly well that it wasn’t a natural death.’
    Maggie said, ‘A cuppa is definitely called for.’
    â€˜Grrr,’ said Bea. She knew she needed to calm down. But how? She raged about her pretty sitting room, stepping around the piles of files and equipment which had been brought up from below. Backwards and forwards she went, from the dining table in the front window overlooking the road, to the card table and chair at the back of the house where her dear husband used to sit and play patience in the evenings.
    Seated in his own big chair, he would look out over the garden below, see through the branches of the sycamore at the far end, to the spire of the church beyond. That view always seemed to give him pleasure. Normally, it gave Bea pleasure, too.
    But not tonight.
    She got the patience cards out and dealt to play Spider. Hamilton always said that the rhythmic slap of the cards kept the forefront of his mind occupied while the little men