Hard Going Read Online Free PDF Page B

‘when you wanted to get on.’
    She shrugged. ‘Every job’s got its drawbacks.’
    â€˜He was a wealthy man, I suppose?’ he slipped in casually.
    But she looked wary. ‘I never asked.’
    â€˜Did he keep any valuables around the house?’
    â€˜What you asking that for?’ she said sharply. The burn was back. ‘Mr Bygod trusted me, he left me alone in the house many’s the time. I was with him ten years.’
    Slider laid calm over the troubled water. ‘I’m just thinking that if word had got round that there were valuables in the house – and you said some of the visitors were “low-lifes”, maybe ex-cons …’
    â€˜Oh,’ she said warily, unsure whether to believe him. ‘Well, he didn’t have anything like that as far as I know. Just his knick-knacks, his books, his crappy old pictures and such. Who’d steal
them
?’
    â€˜Did he have a safe?’
    â€˜Only that little one in the study.’
    â€˜I noticed the key was in it.’
    â€˜He never locked it. He said it was just to keep documents safe if there was a fire. There was no money in it or anything.’
    â€˜How do you know?’
    She looked affronted again. ‘He told me. Anyway, he had it open most of the time when I’ve been in there, and I could see. Just papers, that’s all.’
    The phone rang. Atherton answered it, and nodded to Slider over her shoulder.
    â€˜Your husband’s arrived,’ Slider said.
    She scowled. ‘And
he’ll
be in a temper, getting called from work.’ Something occurred to her. ‘And I suppose I’ve got to tell him I’ve lost my job as well.’
    â€˜I’m afraid so,’ Slider said.
    â€˜Bloody hell,’ she muttered below her breath. ‘As if I didn’t have enough to put up with.’ Aloud, she said, ‘Can I go now, then?’
    â€˜Just a few more questions. This morning, when you went in – you have a key, I suppose?’
    â€˜That’s right,’ she said.
    â€˜You went upstairs, and into—?’
    â€˜The kitchen first. I go in there, take my coat off, put the kettle on, before I go and see him.’
    â€˜Did you call out to him?’
    â€˜Top of the stairs. “It’s only me,” I said, though who else it’d be I don’t know.’
    â€˜Were you surprised he didn’t answer you?’
    â€˜Not really. I thought he was reading or something.’
    â€˜What did you see in the kitchen?’
    â€˜Nothing. It was all tidy.’
    â€˜No dirty dishes.’
    â€˜He went out for lunch, Tuesday. Went off about half eleven, wasn’t back before I left.’
    â€˜No supper dishes? So he didn’t eat in, in the evening?’
    â€˜I suppose not.’
    â€˜And no breakfast things.’
    â€˜Well, there wouldn’t be, would there? He was dead.’
    â€˜Didn’t it surprise you? There were usually breakfast things for you to wash up.’
    The weary look again. ‘I didn’t think about it. One less thing for me to do, that’s all. I just went along to his study to see if he wanted anything and—’ She stopped, her face tight and hard, which might have been the attempt to control emotion. But what emotion?
    â€˜Was the study door open or closed?’
    â€˜Open. It always was, unless he was having a meeting in there and wanted to be private.’
    â€˜So you saw him from the door.’
    She nodded.
    â€˜Why did you go over to him?’
    She bridled. ‘To see if he was dead, what d’you think? He might’ve still been alive, then I’d’ve called the ambulance. I shook his shoulder and called him, tried to lift his head up, but it was no good.’
    â€˜Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to move anything at a crime scene?’
    â€˜I said, he might’ve been alive!’ she said angrily. ‘God Almighty!’ She