False Step

by Veronica Heley

  Silence. ‘We think … we’re not sure … Mr Max was still here when we went out last night. He had someone with him. Oliver did remind him about the alarm when we left, but … no, it wasn’t ringing when we got back and found the circus in progress.’

  Bea digested this in silence. So Max had left the house with the alarm off when he went out for the evening. Ouch!

  Maggie was subdued. ‘We didn’t say anything about it to the police. Was that right?’

  Bea sighed. ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Will you be in for lunch?’

  ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  Bea switched the phone off, picked up her overnight bag and checked she hadn’t left anything behind. She found Gail standing by the window, looking out into space. ‘Gail, I don’t like to leave you here by yourself and we haven’t had our talk yet. It’s chaos back at the office but I expect we can find a corner somewhere if you’d like to come back with me.’

  Gail turned her head to look at Bea, her expression remote. ‘You won’t want to be bothered now.’

  ‘Fantastical thoughts are catching. I’ve just had one and need to test it out on someone who knows what’s going on. So, come with me?’

  ‘I’ve never liked fantasy.’ Gail picked up her handbag and collected a coat from the hallway.

  As Bea had forecast, her house was in chaos.

  A television van was parked outside, and a reporter was speaking into a camera in the front garden. Two other men with cameras were hanging around, waiting for someone to appear from the house? Bea slid her car into a vacant space, making sure that her residents’ parking permit was properly displayed. She hoped the parking warden might be round soon, and ticket the television van … although the company was probably used to it and regarded parking fines as part and parcel of everyday life. Several neighbours were out on the other side of the road, clustering to ask one another what the fuss was all about. The blinds were drawn at all the windows of her house. Bea got out her front door key.

  She advised Gail, ‘Take a deep breath, answer no questions.’ Head down, the two women charged up the path, pushing their way between the journalists … and slipped in at the front door.

  ‘Mind the carpet,’ said Bea, a fraction too late.

  Gail picked herself up, and dusted herself down. ‘A nice burglar trap.’

  Oliver appeared in the door to the kitchen, with Maggie peering over his shoulder. They were both sizzling with excitement.

  From the living room came Max’s sonorous voice, declaiming his undying loyalty to the party and the impossibility of anyone decoding anything on his stolen laptop. From upstairs came the whine of the vacuum cleaner and the voice of Miss Brook saying ‘No comment’ to someone on the phone. From the depths rose the head of not one but two of the building team, not wanting to miss a trick.

  Miss Townend appeared in the doorway to the living room, bearing a tray containing used coffee cups and an empty cafetière. She looked unusually flushed. Bea could imagine her turning up on the doorstep determined to ‘protect Mr Max, no matter what’. Seeing Bea, she said, ‘Mr Max was wondering where you were. May we have some more coffee, please?’ She handed the tray to Bea and disappeared back into the living room.

  The Green Girls clattered down the stairs, bringing their vacuum and dusters with them. Yvonne, their temporary leader, said, ‘What a carry on, eh, Mrs Abbot? We done what we could, but it’ll all be needing doing again tomorrow. Got to get a move on. Fitting this job in is taking some doing, right?’

  ‘Right,’ said Bea. ‘And, many thanks, Yvonne. I don’t know what we’d have done without you. No word from Florrie? Hm. But you’re coping, otherwise, right?’

  The foreman of the builders gave a little cough. ‘Can I have a word, missus?’

  Maggie took the tray off Bea and told the builder to behave himself. ‘I told you, Mrs Abbot doesn’t want to be bothered with your nonsense today.’ And to Bea, ‘He’s got a young wife he thinks needs watching, but I told him, the Abbot Agency doesn’t do divorce – or murder.’

  ‘Quite right, too, Maggie,’ said Bea. ‘Now—’

  The living-room door opened and a journalist backed out, only to fall over the carpet, landing on his back, winded. Max said, ‘Let me give you a hand up,’ and also ended up sprawled on the floor. The phone rang. Someone answered it. The front doorbell rang. Miss Brook called down from the landing, ‘That woman’s been on the phone again, Mr Max. She says you know the number. Will you kindly inform her that this phone is not for your use.’

  Miss Townend appeared in the doorway. ‘Oh, Mr Max, don’t forget that you’ve got to ring the Chief Whip’s office.’

  Gail found a safe place to stand, leaned against the wall and began to laugh.

  Max shot the journalist out, banged the door to in the face of whoever it was outside, and said, ‘Really, Mother! Where have you been?’

  ‘Attending to my own business, Max. Are you all right? Have you had that knock on the head looked at by a doctor?’

  ‘I spent an hour in Accident and Emergency last night. They wanted to keep me in overnight, but I discharged myself. I’m all right, I tell you.’

  ‘Is the stuff on your laptop really important?’

  ‘Of course it’s important!’

  ‘No, but I mean, is it really important. “Important” as in affecting your career? Or just inconvenient?’

  He deflated. Suddenly looked tired. His black eye wasn’t helping, either. ‘It’s important.’

  Bea gestured him to follow her into the living room. ‘Max, what about the alarm? Why didn’t you put it on when you left last night?’

  ‘I forgot. I had a visitor, and things got a trifle heated.’

  ‘Lettice?’

  He gestured in surrender. ‘There’s no need to go on at me. I realized straight away, as soon as I came to myself. One moment’s stupidity and my career’s ruined.’

  ‘Not ruined, dear. Just blighted. Let’s hope it’s only temporary.’ She left him to it.

  Gail was still in the hall, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. Tears of amusement this time. ‘Is your life always like this?’

  ‘In spots, yes. Oliver, Maggie; before we go any further, did the intruders get upstairs?’

  Oliver whistled. ‘Now how did you know there were two of them? No, they pulled out every drawer in the living room and emptied the contents on the floor. They upended Miss Townend’s files, got into the kitchen and took everything off that little rack where Maggie keeps the household keys. And that’s it. They didn’t go upstairs.’

  ‘Fine. Now, since the living room seems to be out of bounds, let’s all go into the kitchen and bring one another up to date.’

  Winston was sitting in the middle of the table. Maggie picked him up, kissed the top of his head and put him on the floor. Bea held out her hand to Gail, urging her to join them in the kitchen, but that lady hung back.

  ‘You won’t want—’

  ‘You’re in this up to your neck, Gail. Come and meet the crew. Don’t let their comparative youth put you off. They’re as bright as buttons, if not brighter. Oliver here is a computer whizz-kid; it was he who discovered where the funeral’s going to be, and he helped me do the inventory up at Matthew’s house. Maggie can keep more plates spinning in the air than Houdini … that is, if Houdini ever spun plates. Anyway, I suggest you hear their story before you form any judgement upon their discretion.’

  ‘What story?’ Oliver was grinning.

  Maggie produced mugs, put ground coffee into a clean cafetière, and poured on boiling water. ‘Start at the beginning, Oliver – and don’t let that cat get back on to the table. Is everyone going to be in for lunch, by the way? Home-made soup, bread and cheese do you?’ She started chopping vegetables and throwing them into a big pan.

  Oliver said, ‘It was like this. Maggie was a bit down so I went with her to check on the job she’s project-managing down the road. And yes, we reminded Mr Max that the alarm wasn
’t on when we left, didn’t we, Maggie? He’d come back a while before with that woman who keeps ringing him, not his wife, but the other one. They were having a right to and fro in the living room, so I popped my head around the door to tell them we were going out, and not to forget about the alarm—’

  ‘But we think he must have,’ said Maggie.

  ‘That’s about it,’ said Oliver. ‘After Maggie had checked on her job I took her to the gym where I introduced her to a couple of my friends and we got chatting, you know how it is, so we were a bit late getting back. About half ten. As we walked back along the road, we saw there was a light on in the living room next door, but the blinds weren’t down and the curtains hadn’t been drawn. We knew you were away, but we thought Mr Max might have gone in there and not bothered about the curtains—’

  ‘Until we fell over him in the garden, at the top of the stairs to the basement,’ said Maggie. ‘I checked and he was still alive, which we thought at first he might not be—’

  ‘He was lying on his back, sort of snoring. Out cold. His coat was open and it looked like he’d been mugged and robbed but we could see into the living room, and there was this man in black with a funny sort of blurred face—’

  ‘A stocking or tights over his head, just like in the old films—’

  ‘And he was shouting – we could hear him, faintly – and another man came to join him and they were opening drawers and throwing Miss Townend’s files about. One was tall and thin, the other short and stocky. We could see them quite clearly through the window. So I got out my mobile and rang for the police and an ambulance, and we argued about what to do but I wouldn’t let Maggie dash in to interrupt them in case she got hurt, too—’

  ‘But I couldn’t let them steal anything and get away with it, so I rang the front doorbell, and Oliver rang the landline phone in here. I was looking through the letterbox though Oliver told me not to, and I saw them both come out of the living room, colliding in the doorway, it was really funny to watch, and then they shouted to get out through the kitchen. Only Winston must have been sitting on the table here – I’m sorry to say he gets up on it as soon as my back’s turned – and I heard one of them shriek something about “That something cat!” so I suppose Winston scratched him in passing.’

  ‘Bully for you, Winston,’ said Bea, on to whose lap Winston had climbed. ‘Know your enemies, right? So you waited for the police to come before you went in, right?’

  ‘Well, sort of.’ Oliver wriggled. ‘When we heard the back door slam, we let ourselves in and saw Mr Max’s wallet lying on the carpet. No money, but they’d left the credit cards.’

  ‘But no laptop or mobile,’ sighed Maggie. ‘Then the police came, and the ambulance. We made a statement, but we didn’t say anything about the alarm because Mr Max looked totally shattered. Oliver went with Mr Max to the hospital, and brought him back in a taxi about three o’clock. The police said they’d come back again this morning, which they did, and somehow the press got hold of it, and … well, that’s it, roughly.’

  Bea sipped coffee, half closing her eyes. She knew where the laptop and mobile were. At least, she could guess. ‘Do you know what they were looking for?’

  Oliver shrugged. ‘The police thought … opportunity knocks. Mr Max had his keys in one hand, laptop in the other, snatch one, look for things that might be picked up quickly.’

  Maggie said, ‘Casserole for supper, I thought. And I might make a couple of Victoria sandwiches for tea. What did they want with my household keys?’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Bea. ‘I suspect that they were after the keys to Matthew’s house, which I’d tucked into a drawer upstairs in my bedroom. Luckily you disturbed them before they got upstairs. Oh, is Miss Brook coping all right?’

  ‘Of course. Enjoying it, in a way. But I suggest you arm yourself with a cast-iron shield before you speak to her. Miss Brook is “not in the habit of having to deal with people who are careless enough to lose their laptops on their very doorsteps”. I quote.’

  Maggie was wide-eyed. ‘Mrs Abbot, do you mean that you know who the burglars were?’

  ‘I can guess.’ She shot a look at Gail, who was staring into space with an appalled look on her face.

  Maggie crashed dishes. ‘Who is it? Oughtn’t we to tell the police?’

  Oliver grinned. ‘They weren’t professionals or they’d have taken his credit cards. Not professionals, but after keys. I wonder. The only place Mrs Abbot has been recently – apart from last night – was to Mrs Frasier’s. It must be her husband and son who came after the keys. Right? Can I come with you?’

  Gail shot to her feet. ‘Where’s the …?’

  ‘Out here,’ said Bea, guiding her to the ground-floor cloakroom, and shutting the door behind her. She heard Gail retch, but at least she didn’t actually throw up. In a few minutes she was out, looking pale, but composed. She said, ‘You think the intruders came for the keys to Matthew’s house, but took the laptop and mobile because they failed to win first prize? If it was my son-in-law who burgled this place last night, then I don’t mind if you do tell the police.’

  ‘I would, if it weren’t for the fact that I think Max has every right to be worried about what’s on the laptop. Hold on a moment, while I ring the Frasiers.’

  She found the number, and let the phone ring. Were they not going to answer? The phone rang and rang. Bea could imagine the Frasier house, with its already neglected air.

  Finally, someone picked up. ‘Ugh? ’Lo? Who’s that?’ Tom, the teenager.

  ‘This is Mrs Abbot. I’m coming round this afternoon to pick up the laptop and mobile. Be there, right?’

  ‘Dunno what you’re talking about …’ He sounded more awake this time.

  ‘About three o’clock.’

  ‘We don’t have a—’

  ‘Oh, I think you do. So don’t try selling them or tampering with them in any way, or it’ll be Special Branch visiting your house this evening. Do you understand?’

  Silence. The phone went dead.

  ‘Cross fingers,’ said Bea. ‘Although a prayer or two might help. Gail, my dear, you’re looking peaky. You ought to go somewhere nice and quiet and see if you can doze for a while. I’m going to take you right up to the top of the house and you can doss down in Maggie’s room till it’s time for lunch. All right?’

  Gail tried to smile. ‘You must think me a poor sort of creature.’

  ‘I think you’re doing just fine.’

  Bea settled Gail upstairs and came down again, thinking that she’d better find out what sort of reward Max was prepared to offer for the return of his possessions.

  The figures didn’t add up. There must be a way to get some money in, somehow. Matthew’s car? No one seemed to know where it was. If only Damaris hadn’t been so anxious to get an inventory done, it would have been easy to whip something out of the house to sell. As it was …

  She’d like to do something cruel to that solicitor, telling her she couldn’t touch anything for at least six weeks. He’d even asked her for her keys to the house! The nerve of the man! If only she’d thought quickly enough, she would have chosen another solicitor to prepare Damaris’s will … only Damaris would have baulked at that.

  The new owners of the house she’d always called home were agitating, wanting to move in. In a way, she’d be glad to walk away from the place, but … where was she to go? Sit and wait for a council flat? She’d have to move into a B&B somewhere for the time being. This was not what she’d planned, not at all.

  Fourteen

  Thursday afternoon

  Max goggled at Bea. ‘You think you know where my things are? You can’t! Don’t be ridiculous! How could you? Impossible!’

  Bea had excluded Miss Townend from the room while she talked to Max, but now the dear woman tapped on the door. ‘Mr Max? There’s another journalist at the door.’

  ‘Let them wait, Max,’ said Bea. ‘Now, listen. This is important. To a certain extent you’ve brought this on yourself
by forgetting about the alarm, but I don’t want that momentary lapse to ruin your career. As I said, I may be able to get your laptop and mobile back for you this afternoon. If I can, what reward are you offering?’

  He gasped. ‘What? You’re asking me for money to—?’

  Bea set her teeth. Miss Townend was tapping at the door again, raising her voice. ‘Mr Max, it’s urgent!’

  Bea exercised patience. ‘No, I would spend it on drink. Be your age, Max. I may need to recompense the burglars. So, how much?’

  He called out, ‘In a minute, Miss Townend.’ There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. ‘Mother, this is not some childhood game. This is serious. Whatever bee you’ve got in your bonnet, I’m not playing, and I’m amazed that you should think I would.’

  ‘Very well, Max. I’ll give them something out of my own pocket, and get it back from you by way of rent for your room. All right?’

  ‘No, it isn’t all right! I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. You can’t possibly know how to stop these people blackmailing me—’

  ‘Ah. Someone has already phoned you, asking for money?’

  He closed his mouth. ‘No, of course not.’

  She could always tell when he was lying. Oh. Dear. Someone had. It was either an outsider, a chancer who’d learned that Max had lost his laptop and was making a bid to cash in, or one of the Frasiers. Derek, probably. It was right up his street.

  ‘Max, promise me one thing. Don’t pay anybody anything till I’ve had a go at sorting it out myself. This afternoon I’m going to see some people who may be able to help and if so, I shall phone you with the good news about, say, four o’clock. If I fail, I’ll be back before five and then obviously you must let the police deal with the burglars.’

  His eyes went all round the room as he calculated the odds … and decided she didn’t know what she was talking about. ‘Mother, you are right out of your depth on this one.’ He lifted his hand to prevent her saying any more and, taking her by the elbow, manoeuvred her out of the room and into the hall. ‘Suppose you go and do something useful like fixing someone up with a nanny, and let me deal with this. Now, Miss Townend …?’