Read Online The Ten Commandments by Anthea Fraser - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anthea Fraser
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twice, they were fortunate enough to have a motorist pull out just in front of them, and slid into the space ahead of another driver approaching from the opposite side.
'An omen, perhaps,' Frederick said as they got out. 'Let's hope our luck holds.'
The offices of Ward and Johnson on the High Street were fronted by large plate-glass windows, through which they could see a row of desks, each with someone behind it and a couple of people seated opposite.
'The property market seems to be booming,' Frederick commented, 'which is not what one reads in the papers.'
Though he had phoned his wife from the wine bar, he'd ignored Paul's suggestion of booking an appointment with Ward and Johnson, and Paul, following him inside, wondered if the estate agents would be too busy this Saturday afternoon to deal with an elderly gentleman and his questions on what happened here six years ago.
They stood inside the door for several minutes without attracting so much as a glance. No doubt it was assumed they were awaiting a vacant desk. Then Frederick's patience gave out. 'See what you can do, Paul,' he said testily, shifting his weight. 'There's a door down at the bottom there â probably the manager. Flush him out, there's a good chap.'
Expecting a rebuff, Paul did as he was asked, and was relieved to discover that once again Frederick's television interview stood in his stead.
'I was about to send you packing,' the manager admitted. 'We've had the police and the press sniffing round again this week and quite frankly we had enough of that at the time. However, if Mr Mace would like a word, of course I'll be glad to help if I can.'
Paul turned and beckoned Frederick, who hurried to join him, seating himself gratefully on the chair indicated.
'This is kind of you, Mr Laycock,' he began, having noted the name on the door as he came in. 'I have a couple of questions, if you can spare the time. The first is a delicate one: could you tell me whether there were any rumours about Mr Philpott's â er â having an eye for the ladies?'
The manager shook his head. 'No, the police asked that at the time. There wasn't so much as a hint of gossip â and he'd a very pleasant wife.'
'His name was never even casually linked with anyone else?'
'Not in my hearing, and I'm sure that goes for the rest of the firm. Of course, several of those who knew him have moved on now; in fact, come to think of it, most of our present personnel have joined us since his death.'
'Not whoever took the phone call that day?' Frederick demanded urgently. 'That person's still here?'
Laycock frowned. 'I'm not sure it wasn't Trevor himself.'
Frederick stared at him in consternation. Was that why there'd been no description of the voice among the papers? But as this setback stared him in the face, Laycock went on, 'No â wait a minute â I remember now. It was Sandra, I'm sure it was. Would you like to speak to her?'
Frederick, weak with relief, could only nod. Laycock picked up the phone. 'Sandra, when you've finished what you're doing, would you come in, please?'
She proved to be a freckle-faced young woman with curly hair, who looked a little harassed. It was hot in the outer office with all that glass, and her nose was shining. However, though she hadn't seen Frederick's programme, she'd read about it, and was obviously overcome to be speaking to someone she regarded as famous.
'Yes,' she replied when the question was put to her, 'I took the call. He sounded nice â like a gentleman. I couldn't believe, afterwards, that it was him.'
'By "like a gentleman",' Frederick asked her, 'do you mean he hadn't a Broadshire accent?'
'Oh no, sir, he was very well spoken. Polite, too.'
'Did he sound nervous in any way?'
'Not at all, cool as you please. He said, "Would it be possible to have a word with Mr Philpott?"'
'Was his voice deep or light?'
She thought back. 'Medium, I'd say. He sounded nice. Just shows you, doesn't it?'
'When you handed
'An omen, perhaps,' Frederick said as they got out. 'Let's hope our luck holds.'
The offices of Ward and Johnson on the High Street were fronted by large plate-glass windows, through which they could see a row of desks, each with someone behind it and a couple of people seated opposite.
'The property market seems to be booming,' Frederick commented, 'which is not what one reads in the papers.'
Though he had phoned his wife from the wine bar, he'd ignored Paul's suggestion of booking an appointment with Ward and Johnson, and Paul, following him inside, wondered if the estate agents would be too busy this Saturday afternoon to deal with an elderly gentleman and his questions on what happened here six years ago.
They stood inside the door for several minutes without attracting so much as a glance. No doubt it was assumed they were awaiting a vacant desk. Then Frederick's patience gave out. 'See what you can do, Paul,' he said testily, shifting his weight. 'There's a door down at the bottom there â probably the manager. Flush him out, there's a good chap.'
Expecting a rebuff, Paul did as he was asked, and was relieved to discover that once again Frederick's television interview stood in his stead.
'I was about to send you packing,' the manager admitted. 'We've had the police and the press sniffing round again this week and quite frankly we had enough of that at the time. However, if Mr Mace would like a word, of course I'll be glad to help if I can.'
Paul turned and beckoned Frederick, who hurried to join him, seating himself gratefully on the chair indicated.
'This is kind of you, Mr Laycock,' he began, having noted the name on the door as he came in. 'I have a couple of questions, if you can spare the time. The first is a delicate one: could you tell me whether there were any rumours about Mr Philpott's â er â having an eye for the ladies?'
The manager shook his head. 'No, the police asked that at the time. There wasn't so much as a hint of gossip â and he'd a very pleasant wife.'
'His name was never even casually linked with anyone else?'
'Not in my hearing, and I'm sure that goes for the rest of the firm. Of course, several of those who knew him have moved on now; in fact, come to think of it, most of our present personnel have joined us since his death.'
'Not whoever took the phone call that day?' Frederick demanded urgently. 'That person's still here?'
Laycock frowned. 'I'm not sure it wasn't Trevor himself.'
Frederick stared at him in consternation. Was that why there'd been no description of the voice among the papers? But as this setback stared him in the face, Laycock went on, 'No â wait a minute â I remember now. It was Sandra, I'm sure it was. Would you like to speak to her?'
Frederick, weak with relief, could only nod. Laycock picked up the phone. 'Sandra, when you've finished what you're doing, would you come in, please?'
She proved to be a freckle-faced young woman with curly hair, who looked a little harassed. It was hot in the outer office with all that glass, and her nose was shining. However, though she hadn't seen Frederick's programme, she'd read about it, and was obviously overcome to be speaking to someone she regarded as famous.
'Yes,' she replied when the question was put to her, 'I took the call. He sounded nice â like a gentleman. I couldn't believe, afterwards, that it was him.'
'By "like a gentleman",' Frederick asked her, 'do you mean he hadn't a Broadshire accent?'
'Oh no, sir, he was very well spoken. Polite, too.'
'Did he sound nervous in any way?'
'Not at all, cool as you please. He said, "Would it be possible to have a word with Mr Philpott?"'
'Was his voice deep or light?'
She thought back. 'Medium, I'd say. He sounded nice. Just shows you, doesn't it?'
'When you handed
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