False Step Read Online Free PDF Page B

pain with his arthritis … a merciful release … the autopsy would prove how he died … there’d be no problem with the death certificate … then she had to register the death … inform the solicitor.
    They’d been understanding at work and given her some time off. So they jolly well should. How she hated that manageress. Well, soon she’d be able to tell her what to do with her piddling little job.
    The family were over the moon at the news. The boys, bless them, wanted a monster telly. Well, why not, eh?
    It was a pity that the pot of gold would have to be divided between two. If she’d had sufficient time to think, perhaps there might have been another way to do it. But the best laid plans, et cetera. Best not tell the boys the prize had to be shared.
    She was a little concerned about the Polish girl. They’d planned that Kasia should report the death to the police, but apparently she’d chickened out and involved someone from the agency she worked for. They must have a word with the girl. For one thing, she had a set of keys, and they needed them.

Three
Friday evening
    Bea had been expecting some young Polish student, but Kasia was perhaps forty, a pretty woman dressed in a modest black top and well-cut trousers, not jeans. She was carrying a large leather handbag, wore good shoes and looked nervous. As Bea let her in, their eyes met and in that moment they recognized certain things about one another. When a woman has watched someone die, the knowledge stays in her eyes.
    â€˜Come in,’ said Bea. ‘I’m afraid we’ve got the builders in, so can’t use the agency rooms at the moment. Tea, coffee? A soft drink?’
    â€˜Thank you, but no.’ Kasia held on to her handbag with both hands, but Bea thought that in ordinary circumstances this woman could have held her own in any stratum of society. She was definitely a cut above Florrie by birth, and possibly also by education. Bea told herself that she was a snob, but knew enough of the world to understand that different backgrounds created different expectations and patterns of behaviour.
    Kasia moved with grace, looking around her at Bea’s pretty sitting room just once and then concentrating on Bea. ‘I am so sorry. Yesterday, I did not behave good. It was bad to run away, but I was afraid. My papers are all right, but in my country … it is different here, the language, the police.’
    â€˜Mrs Green has given you a good reference. How long have you been working for Mr Kent?’
    â€˜A year. I put advertisement in window of paper shop. Mrs Green rings me and arranges.’
    â€˜She collects the money from Mr Kent, and pays you?’
    â€˜For that and for some other jobs. I am happy for this. It is hard to begin here. Then one of my ladies say, can I take on another job and another. And so is good now. I am, how you say, full up?’
    â€˜I understand, but …’ How to tell this nice woman that she had to stop working for Florrie? Was there any way around it? Bea handed over the envelope Florrie had given her. ‘This is from Mrs Green, for yesterday. I realize she has been giving you jobs to do which she could not spare the time to do herself, but this must stop. Oh, don’t look so alarmed …’
    Kasia half-started to her feet, then sat down again. ‘Something is wrong?’
    Bea thought of the problems facing people who worked in the black economy; the paperwork, the difficulty of getting free medical care, the likelihood of there being no holiday pay or insurance. She decided not to talk about that for the moment. ‘It seems that Mrs Green didn’t pay you the full amount each time. She was taking a rake-off.’
    Kasia was resigned, not bitter. ‘Same like Polish agency. One big rake-off for people who need to work.’
    â€˜If you will give the details of the other jobs you got through Mrs Green, I will contact them and