Read Online False Money by Veronica Heley - Free Book Online Page B

didn’t leave their name. They’re asking Tomi’s flatmate to identify the body. I’ll be in touch.’ He disconnected, and she drove home, concentrating hard to avoid an accident.
    Saturday afternoon
    â€˜ Hi, Harry. How’s tricks? I was thinking, if you’re going to the party at Von and Simone’s tonight, you might be able to pick me up, because the Mini’s playing up, and my beloved’s otherwise engaged this weekend. ’
    â€˜ Not going. Don’t feel like it. Bloody Hermia’s given me the air. ’
    â€˜ Oh, you poor thing. How’s about I pop round and you tell me all about it. Shall I bring a bottle? ’
    â€˜ Might as well. ’
    Claire’s brain was whirring. Excitement rose in her. What good fortune to find him depressed. One of her special drinks and he’d be asleep in minutes. This one ought to be a suicide: dressing-gown cord round his neck, haul him up, let him dangle. If Hermia had indeed chucked him, there was all the reason in the world for him to kill himself.

FIVE
    Saturday afternoon
    T here were lots of jobs Bea knew she ought to be doing, but she didn’t want to tackle any of them. Oliver had promised to ring, but so far hadn’t done so. She missed him. It would be good to have him back again.
    Maggie was out. The sky glowered at Bea, promising rain, sleet or snow. In March, for goodness’ sake! It didn’t often snow in London, but when it did, life became difficult. Post was delayed, train services disrupted, airports closed. Shops ran out of milk.
    Bea rummaged in the kitchen, looking for something quick and easy to cook for supper. She came up with ducks’ breasts marinaded in something spicy. They’d go all right with rice and perhaps some calabrese. She’d put in an online order for food supplies recently, and Maggie had been cooking up a storm against Oliver’s return, so there was plenty in the freezer, but nothing Bea really fancied.
    The office was silent; the staff had packed up and gone home. The answerphone light was blinking. Bea eyed it with dislike and left it to blink. It was probably Nicole, wanting her to do some shopping or cleaning for them while Max was away. Enough! Although she must admit to being anxious about poor little Pippin. If only they’d listen to her . . . But no, they were never going to admit that Granny knew best, were they?
    The landline rang, and she answered it.
    â€˜Bea? I tried to ring you earlier.’ A man’s voice brought her back to the present. Piers, her first and long ago ex-husband. ‘You haven’t forgotten about tonight, have you?’
    â€˜Of course not,’ she lied, eyeing with disfavour the ducks’ breasts now defrosting on the worktop. Going out with Piers, a much-sought-after portrait painter, was always interesting. He’d been an unsatisfactory husband, tom-catting around from the day they were married, but of recent years had proved himself a good friend. ‘Where are we going?’
    â€˜Someone gave me some tickets for the Messiah at the Albert Hall. Not my usual scene. What do you think? We could eat somewhere local afterwards, or before.’
    The front door banged and in marched Maggie, bringing a blast of cold air with her. ‘Yoo-hoo! I’m back.’
    â€˜Fine by me,’ said Bea, distracted. ‘Whatever.’ She covered the phone over to say to Maggie, ‘They’ve found a body, might be Tomi’s.’
    Piers’ voice was sharp at the other end of the phone. ‘What’s up?’
    Maggie dropped her bag on the floor. ‘What?’
    Bea turned back to the phone. ‘A girl’s gone missing. Someone Maggie and Oliver know. They’ve found a body which might be hers.’
    â€˜You want me to help?’
    â€˜Doing what, Piers? The police will deal with it.’
    Maggie sat down on the nearest stool with a bump. ‘Really?’ Her eyes