Read Online EQMM, May 2012 by Dell Magazine Authors - Free Book Online Page A

put on some shoes before hurtling downstairs to open the front door, her feet crunching over the broken glass. Once Bill was inside she would call the police—and perhaps he'd know of a decent glazier.
    * * * *
    George thought that Karen Ablet looked rather surprised to see him standing there on the doorstep. But that was only to be expected. He was a complete stranger, after all.
    "I thought you were my neighbour,” were her first words. Then she looked him up and down and presumably concluded that he didn't fit her mental picture of an animal-rights protester. When she pulled her dressing gown protectively around her body he smiled and assumed an expression of concern to put her at her ease.
    "No need to worry, Mrs. Ablet. My name's George Billings and I'm a private investigator. I'm acting for the gentleman who's hoping to buy your house: That's how I came to know your name."
    The suspicion on the woman's face faded a little and George continued, “Your potential purchaser, Mr. Fields, wants to know about the area and whether there are any potential problems with noise or vandalism, that sort of thing. I happened to see a young lout chuck a brick through your front-door window and I just thought I'd check to see if you were okay.” George hesitated, looking down at the hall floor. “Do you want a hand clearing this lot up?"
    "I was just going to ring the police."
    "No need. I've already called them on my mobile phone."
    "Thanks. That's very good of you.” She hesitated, and George knew that she was still wondering whether she could trust him. Then she gave him a weak smile. “You'd better come in."
    He stepped into the darkened hall and felt glass crunching beneath his feet.
    "My husband will be so upset about the door. We paid a fortune to have it restored."
    "Your insurance'll cover it, won't it?"
    "I suppose so."
    "If you've got a piece of wood or hardboard I'll make the door secure for you. No good leaving it like that."
    "Shouldn't we wait for the police?"
    "I don't think there's much need. I'm an ex-copper myself. They'll just want to take a statement. It's not as if they'll find much forensic evidence if the brick was chucked from outside."
    He could see her expression in the moonlight. Her wariness had vanished as soon as he'd told her that he was an ex-policeman. That was a good touch.
    "Shall I put the hall light on?"
    "Better not. He might still be out there. I suggest we go into the back. You look as if you could do with a cup of tea."
    She led him through into the kitchen and flicked on the light switch. He could see her properly now. She was more attractive than he'd imagined; in her thirties with dark hair and a mole on her left cheek. And he could just make out the shape of her slim body beneath the thin silk dressing gown. He knew it was rude to stare so he looked around and saw that one corner of the large kitchen was filled with stacked cardboard boxes; things packed away in preparation for the house move. There was a pile of dirty dishes stacked up in the sink and, to the right of the doorway, a metal clothes rack stood festooned with women's tights and underwear.
    "I'm sorry about the state of the place,” she mumbled, fidgeting with her wedding ring. “I'll put the kettle on. I take it you'd like a cup of tea while we're waiting for the police to arrive?"
    "That'd be lovely. Thanks."
    George swung round suddenly. “What the hell was that?"
    "What? I didn't hear anything."
    "A noise."
    "The police?"
    "Didn't sound like it. It could be the bastard who chucked the brick come back for another go. I'll go and see."
    As he moved towards the hallway he glanced back over his shoulder. Karen Ablet was watching him anxiously.
    "Be careful, won't you,” she said, almost in a whisper.
    He smiled reassuringly. “Perhaps you'd better pull the kitchen blinds down. And I'll switch the light off. We don't want to make it easy for them if they decide to come round the back, do we?"
    She made for the window