Heaven is a Place on Earth Read Online Free

inside.
    “Virginia Galton?”
    Ginny jumped like a cartoon cat and whirled to face the speaker, stumbling backwards into her apartment. The man shot out a hand and caught her upper arm.
    “Steady now. I didn't mean to scare you.”
    She pulled herself free and took two paces back, her heart thumping. “Well you did. Who are you?”
    He was tall and broad shouldered. His face was square cut and clean-shaven. But none of that meant anything, except that his real appearance was within twenty per cent of hot. Of much more interest was the blue and white checked strip that hovered beside him with his police credentials listed below it. For a second she'd thought Cal's dope-dealer friends had found her. Seeing it was the police was a relief, but not a big one.
    “ I'm Detective Sergeant Richards, Ms Galton. May I come in?”
    She actually thought about refusing for a moment but managed to clamp down on her rising panic enough to nod and step back another pace.
    “What is it?” she asked. Even the querulous tone of her voice made her sound guilty, she thought. If the cop didn't suspect her of something, he soon would if she didn't get a grip of herself. She waved a hand at the sofa. “Please, sit down. Would you like a drink? I'm going to get some water. It's hot out there.”
    “ Nothing for me, thanks,” he said and watched her as she went to the kitchenette and ran water into a plastic beaker. She took a long swallow, put the beaker down and went back to join him. He sat on the sofa and she took the armchair.
    “ People are usually at home when I call on them,” he said and left it hanging, as if waiting for her to explain herself.
    She felt the urge to babble out some reason for why she had been out, but fought it. It was unusual behaviour, it needed an explanation, but a lick of irritation came to her rescue.
    “Why are you here, Detective?”
    He gave her a charming smile. “I'm sorry, I should have said that straight off. It's Detective Sergeant, but you can call me Dover.”
    “Dover?”
    “ As in the white cliffs of. May I call you Virginia?”
    “ Ginny. Can we hurry this up? I have a lot of work to do. I'm on a deadline.”
    “ You're a composer I see.” He must be looking at her file as they spoke, she realised.
    “ Soundscape artist. Composers write serious music. I write ambient sounds for worldlets.” She couldn't help but notice the bitterness in her own voice.
    He nodded, as if that made sense of something. “When was the last time you saw your friend Calvin Copplin, Ginny?”
    The question took her by surprise and she found herself tongue tied, not wanting to say she'd just been listening to a recording of him, not wanting to tell a lie to the police.
    “ I haven't spoken to him for a couple of days,” she said cautiously. “I called him today but all I got was a recorded message.” That was true, and they might check, anyway. “Why do you want to know? Is he all right?”
    “ Would you say you were close?”
    “ I don't know. Sort of. We're not dating or anything. Not really. What's happened to Cal?”
    “ Have you met many of Mr. Copplin's friends? Has he introduced you to anyone?”
    She didn't like these questions. She didn't like the way the detective wouldn't answer her own questions. She didn't like being interrogated in her own home. “What's this all about?”
    “How did you meet Mr. Copplin, Ginny?”
    She shook her head. “No, I'm not answering any more questions until you tell me why you're here.”
    His gaze held hers for several seconds. He smiled again but he continued to watch her. “Of course, how rude of me. Your friend seems to have disappeared, Ginny.”
    She tried to sound surprised. “What do you mean 'disappeared'? Has somebody reported him missing?”
    “Something like that. Do you have any idea where he is?”
    “ No I don't.” At least that was true. “But this isn't right. I spoke to him a couple of days ago. He's a grown up. Maybe he just went for a