Past Tense by Freda Vasilopoulos Read Free Book Online

say anything further, the taller policeman handed Samantha his card. “I’m PC Nelson, and this is PC Hassam.”
    Nelson consulted a small notebook. “Are you Miss Samantha Clark?”
    “Yes, I am,” Samantha said in a clipped tone that hid her inward shaking. This was the very thing every fugitive feared, the attention of the police. “Is there a problem?”
    “I hope not.” He glanced at Miss Hunnicott. “Thank you for your help, madam.”
    “Not at all,” she said, looking disappointed when the constable turned back to Samantha.
    “Could we have a word with you, Miss Clark?”
    He remained standing just inside the door, his colleague beside him. He gazed around the flat with an air of unconcern that didn’t fool Sam for a moment. She was sure he saw everything, took in every nuance of worn furniture and plain curtains. And the lack of anything uniquely personal on public display.
    “You’ve lived here how long?” Nelson asked, even though he must have extracted this piece of information from Miss Hunnicott.
    “About five months.”
    “And you work as a freelance translator?”
    “Yes.” She hesitated, then plunged ahead. “What’s this about, constable?”
    Instead of answering, he fixed his eyes on the carrier bag she had hung on a hook on the kitchen wall. “You shop in the Lily Maid supermarket in Richmond? It’s a long way from here.”
    “I’m translating a book there,” Samantha said with a touch of defensiveness. “It’s convenient for me to shop before I come home.”
    “Did you today?”
    She shook her head. “No, I worked longer than usual and came straight home.”
    “So you didn’t pass the supermarket about three o’clock, or see anything unusual?”
    “No. At three o’clock I still at Professor Eldridge’s.”
    “And you left when?”
    “About half past four.”
    The constable cleared his throat, scribbling in his notebook. “Professor Eldridge has a housekeeper, a Mrs. Howard?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did you see her before you left the house?”
    What was he getting at? “No, she’d gone to do some shopping for tea.” She lifted her eyes to meet the policeman’s, her stomach suddenly fluttering. “She might have been at the Lily Maid supermarket around three. She went out shortly before.”
    “We know. She was there.”
    “Then you know I wasn’t there,” Samantha said with a flash of temper.
    He looked at her with maddening calm. “Do you have any enemies, Miss Clark?”
    Her palms were wet and she surreptitiously wiped them on her skirt. Fighting down her panic, she managed to keep her voice steady. “Enemies? Why would I have enemies?”
    “Indeed,” he said evenly, leaving her completely unprepared for the question she’d been dreading. “Could I see some identification, please?”
    Identification. What could she show him that wouldn’t give her away? Sweat trickled coldly down her sides. Thinking quickly, she rummaged in her handbag and came up with one of her business cards, made out in her new name.
    The constable pursed his lips as he studied the card. Samantha waited, her heart pounding. If he asked to see her passport, there would be all kinds of questions, the first being why she’d changed her name. Not that that was illegal unless it was done with intention to commit fraud. But it could get sticky.
    “May I keep this?”
    She let out her breath. “Yes, of course. Could you tell me what this is all about?” The constable might be unaware of the trauma he had put her through, but she felt she had a right to know why she’d been singled out for questioning.
    He snapped the notebook shut and tucked it into his pocket. “I was hoping you could, Miss Clark. But since you weren’t at the market today—I’d be careful if I were you. There was an apparent kidnapping attempt at the Lily Maid supermarket about three-fifteen today. The manager called police after witnesses said a woman was forced into a car. Someone saw a gun. Of course, reports vary