Free Death Trap by Patricia Hall Page B

faintly polished and shiny looking around the cheeks, said in a tone which clearly did not expect any sort of negative answer. ‘We’re sorry to bother you but I am showing this gentleman around the house and we would be glad if we could have a quick viewing of your flat. We won’t disturb you for long.’
    â€˜Are you Mr Beauchamp?’ Tess asked, her voice full of suspicion. The man looked taken aback by the question.
    â€˜No, no, I’m not but I am here on his behalf. My name is Carey and I’m representing Mr Beauchamp. He’s abroad at the moment. It is possible that the house is going to be sold and this gentleman  . . .’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘This gentleman is a prospective buyer. If we could trouble you briefly  . . .?’
    He did not exactly push his way in, Kate thought, but in taking a couple of steps forward, followed by his smaller, darker and rather older companion, he made it very clear that he was not to be denied. The men looked quickly round the three rooms which made up the flat, without making any comment, turned the taps on in the kitchen and prodded a patch of damp on one of the walls and then returned to the front door, still without a word.
    â€˜What will happen to the flats if the house is sold?’ Tess asked.
    â€˜Oh, you don’t need to worry about that yet,’ the younger man said. ‘That’s a long way off. But your landlord did ask me to mention that the rent will be going up from the beginning of next month. The collector comes round next Friday, I think, doesn’t he? He’ll let you know then what you will have to pay in future. Good day to you.’
    But Kate did not feel like letting him get away with that. ‘Just a minute, please,’ she said. ‘While you’re here perhaps we can ask you whether you are responsible for Geoff and Elsie Wilson being bullied into moving out when they didn’t really want to. Was it you who sent the men round with the Alsatian the other day?’
    Carey looked at Kate angrily for a moment while his companion remained completely expressionless.
    â€˜I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Carey said flatly at last. ‘And that’s not a suggestion Mr Beauchamp would be very happy to hear either. I should be very careful who you repeat it to, young lady. Very careful indeed.’ He held the door open for the older man, who had not said a word, and followed him out with a smile for the women which was no doubt intended to take some of the sting from his threat but which reminded Kate of the loan sharks who had infested her childhood after her father disappeared and her mother struggled to make ends meet. It was, she thought, getting more and more urgent that the three of them find somewhere else to live.
    DS Harry Barnard stood outside Fulham Broadway tube station scanning the crowds for a familiar face amongst the football supporters with blue scarves and disgruntled expressions. He had been coming to Chelsea FC on and off on a Saturday afternoon with DS Eddie Lamb for ten years or more, ever since they had moved into CID together as rookies at Paddington Green, both of them trying to stay cheerful through the west London club’s ups and, more often, downs. Barnard was always on the point of packing it in and trying one of the north London clubs closer to where he lived instead, but he never quite managed to pull himself away from the team their rivals still dismissively called the ‘pensioners’. Lamb, on the other hand, was the true Chelsea supporter through good times and bad and he had persuaded Barnard to persevere again this season, with the club just back from a year in the second division and the prolific goal scorer Jimmy Greaves now a bitterly regretted memory. The new manager, Lamb assured Harry Barnard with the true devotee’s gleam in his eye, would make all the difference. They were back up, they