Dead Man's Time Read Free Page A

that be?’
    ‘Gerard Scott.’
    ‘Gerard Scott?’
    ‘He said to say hello!’
    ‘I don’t know any Gerard Scott, for sure.’
    ‘We’re saving him two thousand five hundred pounds a year off his heating bill.’
    ‘And how would you be doing that?’ she asked, a tad impatiently as she stared at the door, worrying about her beans staying too long in the hot water.
    ‘We have a representative working in your area next week. Perhaps I could make an appointment at a time convenient for you?’
    ‘A representative for what, exactly?’
    ‘Loft insulation.’
    ‘Loft insulation? Why would I be needing loft insulation?’
    ‘We are England’s leading specialists. The insulation we put in is so effective it will have fully paid for itself in just nine years from savings on your fuel bills.’
    ‘Nine years, you say?’
    ‘That’s right, madam.’
    ‘Well now, I’m ninety-eight years old. That would be a high-class problem, I’d say, for me to think I’m going to be worrying about my heating bills when I’m a
hundred and seven. But thank you kindly.’
    She hung up, then carried on towards the front door. ‘I’m coming! I’m on my way!’
    Her brother had been trying to convince her for a long time to sell the house and move into sheltered accommodation, but why the hell should she? This had been her home for over fifty years.
Here she had lived happily with her husband, Gordon, who had passed away fifteen years ago, had raised her four children, who had all predeceased her, and had created the once beautiful garden,
which she still continued to work in. All her memories were in this house, as well as all the fine paintings and antiques she and her husband had collected during their lives – guided by her
brother’s discerning eye. She’d been uprooted once in her life, and it was not going to happen again. She was adamant that when she left this place she loved so much, it would be feet
first.
    Her only concessions to her brother’s concerns were the panic button that hung from a cord around her neck, and the housekeeper who came twice a week.
    She peered through the spyhole in the front door. In the light of the summer evening she saw two middle-aged men in brown uniforms, with identity tags hung from chains around their necks.
    She removed the safety chain and opened the door.
    They smiled politely. ‘Sorry to disturb you, madam,’ the one on the right said. ‘We’re from the Water Board.’ He held up his identity card for her to read.
    She did not have her glasses on, but she liked his Irish accent. The face on the card was a little blurred, but it looked like the face of the shaven-headed man in front of her.
Richard
Carroll
, she thought his name read, but she couldn’t be sure.
    ‘How can I help you, gentlemen?’
    ‘We’re investigating a water leak. Have you noticed a drop in water pressure during the past twenty-four hours?’
    ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, I can’t say that I have.’ But, she knew, there was a lot of stuff she did not notice these days. Much though it angered her, she was
increasingly becoming dependent on others. Although she still kept a tight grip on everything she could.
    ‘Do you mind if we come in and check your water pressure? We’d hate you to be charged for water you’re not using.’
    ‘Well, I wouldn’t be wanting that either,’ she said with a twinkle in her eye, in her soft Dublin accent. All these bastard utilities were trying to rob you blind all the time
and she wasn’t one to be having any of it. She scrutinized the phone bills, the electricity bills, the gas and the water. ‘I’ve been thinking the water charges are high of
late.’
    ‘All the more indication of a problem,’ Richard Carroll said, apologetically.
    ‘You’d better be coming in.’
    Holding the Zimmer with one hand, she stepped aside to let the men enter, then closed the door behind them.
    Almost immediately she did not like the way their eyes began roaming. At the