Read Online False Alarm by Veronica Heley - Free Book Online Page A

however, one name which stood out on Sir Lucas’ list because of its plethora of initials. L.A.M. Emerson. Reading ‘lame’. But not at the right address.
    Bea stared at the screen, wondering. People did move. They moved into a better address when their husbands got promotion. They downsized when grown-up children left home or their spouse decamped or they lost their jobs or whatever. They kept their phone numbers if they could.
    It was five years since the agency had supplied Mrs Emerson with a chef and silver service waitresses for a party of twelve at an address in Knightsbridge. A party of twelve indicated a spacious dining-room which was a luxury in today’s terms. A far cry from the two or three bedroom apartment in Lucas’s building. Perhaps the husband had died since that memorable party. Would she still have the same telephone number? Bea returned to the list supplied by Sir Lucas. No, the phone number was different.
    Bea’s hand hovered over the telephone and withdrew. What could she possibly say to Mrs Emerson, even supposing it was the same woman?
    Dear Mrs Emerson. Can you give me the low-down on Lady O? You aren’t acquainted with her? Oh dear. Sorry to have troubled you.
    Think again. She dialled. ‘Is that Mrs Emerson? This is Mrs Abbot here, of the Abbot Agency. You may remember using our services some years ago?’
    â€˜Indeed, yes. Our golden wedding celebration.’ The cracked voice of an older woman.
    Relief! It was the same woman.
    â€˜Happy days, long gone. But . . .?’ Mystified.
    â€˜I’m so sorry to trouble you, but I had occasion to visit Lady Ossett today and noticed a For Sale board outside the flats. As it happens we have a client who has asked us to keep an eye out for a place in your area . . .’ It was quite true that they were occasionally asked to do this for a client now and then, but such queries were always passed on to a reputable estate agency. ‘I thought it might suit him very well, only I was disturbed by some hints that Lady Ossett dropped about vandalism . . .?’
    â€˜Far be it from me to discourage your client from considering the purchase of a flat in our building, although I must warn you that considerable redecoration will be needed, as nothing has been done to the ground floor apartment since the occupant, who was an old lady who’d lived there for ever, died. As for the other, I understand it will need considerable refurbishment. The tenant has gone completely to pieces since his partner – if that’s what they call them nowadays – walked out on him. I’m not sure that that one is officially up for sale yet, but since the man’s lost his job, perhaps it will come on the market soon as well.’
    Bea made notes. One flat was for sale because someone had died, and the tenant of the other one had got the sack so would also have to sell.
    â€˜They will both need updating, if that’s what they call it nowadays, which, as I said to my dear friend Carrie, Mrs Kempton, who lives above me, means that they will tear out a perfectly good bathroom and kitchen, cover every surface in black marble, put in a wet room instead of a shower, not to mention a false ceiling and dotting it with those tiny lights that you can’t get at to replace when they burn out.’
    â€˜I know they can be difficult—’
    â€˜Difficult? If my husband were only alive, God bless him, he’d have dealt with them in next to no time. As it is—’
    â€˜I sympathize. I found all that side of things hard after my own dear husband died.’
    â€˜Ah. You understand, then.’
    Bea took a deep breath. ‘May I come round to see you some time, Mrs Emerson? Perhaps you could introduce me to Mrs Kempton, too. And maybe the man whose flat is up for sale? What number is that flat, by the way?’
    â€˜He’s opposite Carrie, at number eleven.’
    â€˜So she’s below Ms