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readers and the like, conning their way into peopleâs houses ... No, of course nothing like that happened here ...â
Ask if he left her alone at any time, I mouthed, pointing at the phone.
âAnd anyway,â she went on fluently, âyou were with her all the time, werenât you? I bet you never let her out of your sight, did you? Not even for a few seconds ...â
Miranda made eye contact with me.
âExcept when the phone rang downstairs? I see. Yes, wrong numbers are a pain, arenât they?â
I shook my head and drew a finger across my throat to end it.
âActually, I donât think we really need that house phone any more. We all have mobiles these days, even Mr Goodson in Flat 1. It only gets used when somebody has to take a message for Angel, and heâs never here these days ... No, of course I will ... Iâll give him your love next time I see him ... Very well, then, not your love, just your best wishes ... Okay, Iâll just wave to him. âBye . â
If I hadnât know better, I would have said she had enjoyed that. And she had another surprise for me.
âAlison George my arse,â she said as she closed her phone.
âWhat?â I pleaded.
âThere is an Alison George works for the Council; I know her. She happens to be the Tourist Development Officer, and sheâs on six months maternity leave just at the moment. You know what that means.â
I slumped into a chair and the blood must have drained from my face, such was Mirandaâs look of near concern.
âAngel? Are you all right?â
âYes, I suppose so,â I said quietly, humbly holding out my glass towards Doogieâs Scotch. âItâs just a bit of a shock, thatâs all.â
âI know,â she said soothingly. âItâs an invasion of your private space. An intrusion. Itâs like finding out that ...â
âNo, no,â I said, aiming the now-full-again glass to my lips. âItâs finding out that Hackney has a Tourist Development Officer. Bloody hell, what will they think of next?â
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Chapter Four
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âOf course Iâm not paranoid! Iâve every right to be suspicious!â
If it hadnât been for the muscle-relaxant qualities of alcohol, I could have got quite worked up about the suggestion.
âAn unidentified, totally bogus female wangles her way into our house by conning the landlord â who must have been enjoying what they call âa senior momentâ these days to fall for it â and once in, doesnât nick anything, just makes sure sheâs alone in my flat and then kicks seven kinds of crap out of my flat-mate. Cause for concern or what? I think at least a severe furrowing of the brow is called for here.â
âWas he badly hurt, your flat mate?â
âYou should see the bill from the vet.â
âThe vet?â
âWell he is a cat. But the point is, my personal space has been invaded and with malice aforethought. It was only my flat she looked at â wasnât interested in any of the others. And she put a bit of thought into it. Once in, courtesy of our senile landlord, she waits for him to trek downstairs to answer the phone so sheâll be all alone in there ...â
âHow did she know the phone would ring right on cue?â
âEasy-peezey. Sheâs got her mobile in her pocket with the number programmed in and she just presses the call button. Keeps it ringing until he gets to the phone, then hangs up as he answers. Sheâs left on her own.â
âShe wouldnât have long, though, would she?â
âWell, no,â I admitted. âBut long enough.â
âLong enough to do what?â
Now that, unfortunately, was a good question.
âTo snoop, to pry, to invade my privacy. Sheâd gone to a fair bit of trouble to get into my flat, if only for a few minutes.â
âHow did she
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