False Charity by Veronica Heley Read Free Book Online Page B

alarming attack quite deliberately, in order to bring pressure to bear on the agency. But the consequences! If she lost the baby … it didn’t bear thinking about.
    Bea inched herself to her feet, sent a bright smile in Maggie’s direction and took the door into the hall. In front of her, stairs climbed to the first floor, but from the interview room on her right – the office that had once been hers – she could hear the clatter of computer keys. Would that be the boy Oliver?
    She hesitated about going in to speak to Oliver but eventually decided he could wait and, passing the tiny kitchen, went into the inner sanctum from which Hamilton had once directed the affairs of the agency. Because of the way the ground sloped, the reception room on the street was semi-basement, but Hamilton’s large room at the back was at ground floor level, with another grille protecting more French windows on to the garden.
    This was where Hamilton or Bea had once welcomed clients for a discreet, private chat. It was furnished as a sitting room with comfortable chairs, and just one desk by the window for Hamilton. The desk was no longer by the window, but had been moved into the middle of the room, dominating it. Presumably Max had preferred it that way, but it made a nonsense of the friendly ambiance which had once been the trademark of the agency. There was a stack of mail on the desk, awaiting Bea’s attention. More sympathy cards, letters, official-looking documents. Max had dealt with most of the forms that were needed after a death but there were some things only Bea could deal with.
    With an effort she inched the desk back to the window again. Hamilton had always liked to look out on the garden and the trees beyond and it was indeed a pleasant scene. He could gaze up at the sky, now blue as could be, with the spire of the church just visible through the summer leafage. He’d done most of his thinking in that big comfortable chair behind the desk, swinging round now to look out of the window and now to access his computer.
    His computer wasn’t there any more. Oh.
    Max knew how to use a computer, didn’t he? Yes, surely he did. Perhaps he’d stored Hamilton’s computer somewhere else, thinking Bea would have no further need of it? Or was Oliver now using it in his room upstairs?
    Well, it didn’t really matter what had happened to the computer, did it? What mattered was that June shouldn’t lose her baby, even if she had been responsible for bringing her labour on early. What mattered was that their mortgage should be paid, even if it was Jake’s fault that Coral couldn’t go to the police.
    It was not a simple question of right and wrong, though right and wrong came into it. Coral and her son-in-law had probably been greedy, had not bothered to check the client out, had been lax in their book-keeping. Yes. But they hadn’t deserved to lose all that money.
    Bea opened the file, put on her reading glasses and discovered the total of how much they’d lost. Ouch. The agency could wash its hands of the affair. Naturally. They were not at fault in any way. Were they? No.
    We-e-ll. Not in law, maybe. But yes, they were morally responsible, weren’t they? Hamilton would certainly have said so. He used to quote some lines about being ready to right wrongs, or being a knight or something. She couldn’t remember exactly what.
    But there – Bea pushed the paperwork aside – this was no longer anything to do with her. She’d retired from the agency ages ago, and couldn’t possibly be held responsible. A mistake had been made but mistakes do happen even in the best regulated families and it was not her problem. Was it?
    She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes.
    Wednesday, morning
    The team had slept late but now there was work to be done. They’d dumped the bin bag containing the stained rug in a wheelie bin in Camden Town. The washing machine was