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

disguise? Misrepresenting yourself?’
    Bea grinned. ‘Possibly. I want Damaris Frasier to underestimate me.’
    Maggie was looking serious. ‘Mrs Abbot, you understand people and what makes them tick, better than anyone. If you think there’s something wrong—’
    â€˜I’ve absolutely no reason to think so.’
    â€˜But you feel it?’
    Bea nodded. ‘So let’s hedge our bets, shall we? Oliver, you know what to do. Maggie, apart from keeping the workmen up to scratch, I want you to try to contact Florrie and Kasia, get them in to talk to me again. I tried phoning both last night, and neither got back to me. Florrie said she was thinking of taking the camper out on the road. She wouldn’t tell me where she was going, but she’s probably briefed her second-in-command, Yvonne. If you can’t get Florrie, see what you can get out of Yvonne. I think Kasia’s scared of getting involved, but if we offered her another job? We can always find something for her to do, can’t we? And we do need to regularize the jobs that Florrie gave her.’
    Maggie swilled round the sink, and hung the dishcloth up to dry. ‘This Damaris sounds really narrow-minded, trying to pretend her father—’
    â€˜Stepfather.’
    â€˜Whatever, didn’t dress up for work. Why is she so ashamed of him? Would she feel the same if he’d been a Shakespearean actor?’
    Bea said, ‘To be fair, he does seem to have made fun of his ex-wife after the divorce. That might well make the daughter feel sour.’
    Oliver said, ‘Odd that she should inherit everything, if she felt like that about him.’
    As usual, Oliver had put his finger on a sore point.
    The first of the workmen rang the bell as Bea checked over the contents of her handbag, ready to depart. Oliver was already glued to his computer screen. He had the tenacity of a bull terrier and she’d no doubt that if there were any information to be found on Matthew Kent through a computer, he’d find it.
    Max still hadn’t surfaced.
    Matthew’s house looked just the same as she turned in to his road. She wondered which of the cars parked there might be his. There was only one car nearby which didn’t have a residents’ parking permit on it. Would that belong to Damaris? It was an elderly family car with nothing much to recommend it. Red in colour, not particularly clean, with a dent in one back wing.
    Bea rang the bell, checking her watch. One minute late.
    â€˜You’re late,’ observed the woman who opened the door. ‘I’m a busy woman, you know. I really can’t afford to hang around waiting for people. Oh, don’t dilly-dally on the doorstep. There’s a cold wind, and I’m not putting the central heating on, wasting money. You know your way, I take it? And if that’s dog poo on your shoe, will you kindly ensure it doesn’t stain the carpet.’
    Bea scraped the heel of her shoe backwards and forwards on the mat. She hoped she looked the part of a downtrodden employee, but feared her skirt was too good a fit. The blouse was right; the collar sat awkwardly, and she had to tug at it now and then to stop it gaping down the front. She’d brushed her fringe downwards instead of sweeping it across her forehead as she usually did. No eye make-up. Lipstick the wrong colour. She looked and felt frumpish.
    Damaris Frasier was a hectoring blonde in her early thirties, perhaps not all that intelligent? She had hard, light-blue eyes, and wore a permanent frown. She had a tall, bony figure on which clothes sat well; Bea guessed that Damaris shopped at a Second Time Round or charity shop. Her shoes were from a chain store. Her voice had the sort of harsh clarity which would cut through a crowded room. Her manner was impatient, aggressive. Bea couldn’t imagine Damaris making friends easily, or being an easy person to work with.
    Damaris continued, ‘I