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

out when they arrived.’
    â€˜When who arrived?’
    A shrug. ‘Josie’s dead, so it can’t be her. Her photographer, I suppose. I’d popped out for ten minutes. Came back to find the front door downstairs open. Thought I must have neglected to pull it to behind me when I left, but when I got upstairs, I could see I’d been burgled. Or not burgled, probably, because what do I have that’s worth stealing?’
    â€˜Nothing missing?’ Bea helped him to his feet and deposited him in a chair.
    â€˜A random act of burglary?’
    â€˜I might have thought that, if they hadn’t massacred the piano.’ He dabbed at his forehead. ‘Am I still bleeding? I’d gone out to fetch a pizza, was feeling peckish, and I still had the carton in my hands when I got upstairs and saw the mess. I thought that whoever it was might still be there, so I grabbed some paperwork and ran for it, but I must have caught my foot on the carpet, and what with holding on to the pizza and all . . . I took a tumble down the stairs.’
    â€˜Yes, yes. Let’s get you cleaned up.’
    Maggie and Bea lifted him up between them and carried him through into the kitchen, with him still talking.
    â€˜So I got out my mobile and rang the police. And they said they’d log the incident and try to get back to me tomorrow and I looked at the front door and saw the lock had been smashed and I realized they could come back and get me at any minute so I couldn’t stay there. Only, I couldn’t think where to go, and I started walking up the road and suppose I must have dropped my mobile somewhere because I couldn’t find it to ring anyone else, and I remembered you lived nearby, and that’s why I’m here. Ouch!’
    Maggie applied a dressing to his grazed temple. ‘Hold still, now.’
    He took a deep breath, looking around him. They’d put him on one of the kitchen stools. His legs dangled way off the floor. ‘You haven’t got a biscuit or two handy, have you?’
    â€˜And a cup of tea,’ said Maggie, refilling the kettle. Maggie was good with children of all ages. ‘I’m Maggie, by the way.’
    Bea was thinking. ‘I agree you can’t go back to your flat, Jeremy. I suppose – just for tonight – you could sleep here, and then look for something better in the morning?’
    Maggie chucked mugs on to the table. ‘The bed in Oliver’s room is already made up. I’ll put out some towels for him.’
    Jeremy had already worked out that Maggie was going to be more sympathetic to his need for food than Bea. ‘You haven’t by any chance got a cheese sandwich, or perhaps something a little more substantial?’
    â€˜An omelette?’ Maggie went into production. ‘Spanish: tomatoes, mushrooms, onions and potatoes. Right? With a baked apple and custard to follow?’
    â€˜Bliss,’ he said. Then shivered. ‘It wasn’t a random burglary, was it? Not if they used an axe on the piano. The rest of the furniture didn’t amount to much, and they just tossed my papers around so I can easily catch up on my work, but the piano . . . what am I going to do without a piano?’
    â€˜Rent one,’ said Maggie. ‘I can arrange that for you. No, wait a minute; it would be almost impossible to get a piano up to the third floor here. How about a good electronic keyboard? Would that do you?’
    He turned his glowing, innocent smile upon her. ‘You are an angel.’
    Bea escaped into the living room, where she doubled over, giving vent to a bout of painful laughter. The little man reminded her of Rumpelstiltskin, the dwarf in the fairy tale who came to an unfortunate end, but this modern-day gnome always fell on his feet, didn’t he? He was like one of those toys that, no matter how often you laid them down, bounced back to an upright position as soon as you took your hand away.
    She got out