Staging Death Read Online Free Page A

Then it seemed they couldn’t wait to get out. Perhaps Mr Brosnic had cracked his head on yet another historic beam. They certainly didn’t want to see the garden, which I would have wished to do in their situation, since it was as lovely as any surrounding the sort of National Trust property people forked out a tenner each to see.
    Anyway, they drove off without any of the formal expressions of gratitude and a promise to get back to the agency that most people manage at such a time. Bother them then. No commission. Again.
    I returned to Stratford, with the keys and a long face. But Claire, the receptionist, had news for me. The Brosnics wanted me to show them round two other houses, Langley Park and Oxfield Place.
    ‘Me? What about the folk at the Henley office? They’re supposed to be handling them. I wouldn’t want to do them out of a job,’ I assured her mendaciously.
    ‘Greg said it was OK, and you should get the keys from Henley.’
    ‘Fine,’ I said, setting off. I must think only of commission and put right to the back of my mind the thought of the gun Brosnic was packing.
    As soon as I let them into Langley Park, one of my favourite properties, Georgian and spacious, they bolted in opposite directions. As soon as I could, I herded them into the morning room.
    There I issued a stern warning in my most headmistressy tone. ‘I must insist that you both stay with me. I appreciate that you want to see this lovely home at your own pace, and I am happy to let you do that. I’ve all the time in the world. But we must all stick together.’ I gestured them courteously back into the panelled hall.
    ‘You wish to sell this property? And us to buy it?’ Mr Brosnic didn’t wait for an answer but said something swiftly to his wife.
    She shrugged an insolent smile in my direction, and set off towards the library. He marched us inthe opposite direction. He didn’t grab my arm or anything as unsubtle as that. He did it by sheer willpower. And by the fear he’d instilled in me that if I seriously annoyed him he might simply put an arm through the old glass of the built-in display cabinet on the back wall and smash it without a pang. And then smash me. All on a sunny afternoon, while the daffodils nodded happily in the long curling borders snaking down to the stream that ran through the garden as it made its idyllic way to the Avon.
    So the visit to Langley Park wasn’t going to plan. I had a feeling that the one to Oxfield Place wouldn’t be much better. It wasn’t. The fact that as the Brosnics drew up I was trying to call Caddie in response to her text didn’t improve things. Brosnic made it clear that he was entitled to every iota of my time and energy, but not in words – there was nothing tangible I could report back to Greg as constituting a threat, especially as Greg would have sided with Brosnic.
    As it happened, Oxfield Place was unoccupied too, with not so much as a stick of furniture to worry about, so I shrugged mentally and let them get on with their separate prowls. Langley Park must have been more sheltered than here, or perhaps the empty house was getting damp. By the time they returned, her legs were blue and her arms covered with goose pimples. She was trying valiantly not to dither, and kept castingan anxious eye at Brosnic when she thought he wasn’t looking. It was all I could do not to offer her my jacket, but I felt that such a gesture might somehow cause offence.
    I hid behind routine. As she opened the car door, I smiled, offering my card, and delivering my set spiel. ‘I do hope you’ve enjoyed seeing these properties. If you wish to see them again, or any others on our books, please do not—’ I spoke to the firmly slammed Bentley door.
    Brosnic’s turn took him so close to the Ka that I had to move or get run over. Exeunt, as if pursued by a bear . Except a bear might have had a pot shot taken at him.

    At least Caddie sounded reassuring and positive when I finally got through to