Death Dance (11 page)

Rafferty braced himself and said to her, ‘Perhaps your father’s got a point. Your Gary
was
having an affair with Adrienne Staveley, after all.’

Rafferty felt sorry for her. What was a nice girl like her doing getting mixed up with Gary Oldfield? Oldfield had said they hoped to marry. He thought it was likely to be a tragedy for her if they did so. Poor Diana – whose namesake, the late Princess of Wales, had been the epitome of style and beauty – didn’t share the latter’s looks or fashion sense. This Diana was a rather dowdy dresser and if she was bulimic there was no sign of it. Her waist was thick and her backside on the large side, something that her choice of jodhpurs as daily wear only emphasised.

‘How did you find out?’ he now asked her.

‘A friend saw her and Gary together in a local pub. She followed them and told me they had been unable to keep their hands off one another. At first I gave Gary the benefit of the doubt, but later, when there would often be occasions he wasn’t at the car lot and wasn’t answering his mobile, I began to think that my friend had been right.’

Uncertainly, she said, ‘I—I’d be grateful if you said nothing to Gary. He doesn’t know I’m aware of their affair. He—he wouldn’t like it. I wouldn’t want him to think me deceitful.’

He could talk, thought Rafferty, outraged on her behalf. In his opinion, Oldfield was scarcely in a position to find fault about the deception of others. However, even though he felt sorry for the girl, he was careful to make no promises about not speaking to Gary Oldfield. ‘So you didn’t tackle him about the affair at all?’

She shook her head, and said sadly, ’he’d only have denied it. The same way he denied that he still smoked and said it was his customers that came into the portacabin with cigarettes that made his clothes reek of tobacco smoke. I believed him about that until I decided to surprise him one day and pop in to take him out to lunch.’

So she knew Oldfield was a liar. How much more disillusion would she stomach before she exorcised him from her life and bed? ‘You’re still happy to alibi him?’

‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Gary might be guilty of many things, but murder isn’t one of them. I know he didn’t kill that woman. He was here from four o’clock onwards. He didn’t leave the flat at all that afternoon or evening. I know because I was with him.’

Disgruntled that – although he felt sorry for her – he hadn’t got a more satisfying reaction to his news, Rafferty left. He let Llewellyn drive. His only consolation being the fact that Oldfield was still unaware that his girlfriend knew about his affair. That suited Rafferty just fine. He looked forward to speaking to Gary Oldfield in the morning and letting him know that his faithless behaviour had been rumbled. But, as for the murder investigation, it would have to be a case of onward and upward. Onward and upward after the suspects who were still in the frame.

Chapter Eight

When Rafferty got home, it was to find Abra cock-a-hoop.

‘I rang my young cousin today, and she was delighted to be asked to be a bridesmaid,’ she told Rafferty before he had even had a chance to get his jacket off.

‘That’s great, sweetheart. So all that worry was for nothing.’

‘Yes. She’s already been to the bridal wear shop and tried the dress on. It hardly needs any alteration.’

‘Even better — less expense.’ Whoops, he thought as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Not a good move.

‘You’re not going to start harping on about the cost of it all again, I hope, Joe.’

‘No, my love,’ Rafferty was quick to say, annoyed with himself that he’d let the comment slip. ‘Nothing could be further from my thoughts.’ They had already split up once over what Abra called his cheapskate attitude to the rising costs of the wedding. They’d managed to get over that and Rafferty was determined that the subject wasn’t going to come between them again.

‘I hope you’re hungry’ said Abra. ‘I’ve made a casserole with dumplings.’

‘Dumplings. Mmm. I love dumplings’

‘You love anything that’s called food,’ Abra laughed. ‘You’re the original dustbin.’

‘Call me what you like. But you can’t say I don’t appreciate your cooking.’

‘True. I’ll go and dish up. Come into the kitchen while I do it and tell me about your day.’

Rafferty followed Abra through. He ate one of the dished out dumplings and Abra gave him a slap.

‘Wait, greedy guts. That’s one less for you.’

‘Worth it though. Tastes lovely.’

‘Should do. I’ve slaved over it.’

‘What did I do to deserve you? I must have been a good boy in a previous life.’

‘You want to concentrate on being a good boy in this one.’

‘I will. Promise.’

‘So how’s your murder coming along? Are you any closer to arresting someone?’

‘Not yet, though I’m seriously tempted — even if it’s just to get the superintendent off my back.’

‘So, he’s still the great support he’s always been?’

‘You could say that. He thinks by hectoring his officers he pushes them on to solving their cases. The reality, of course, is something else. A superintendent who spends his time with one eye on Region isn’t going to be in your corner when needed.’

‘Bosses, hey? There’s more bad ones about than ever these days. No wonder cases of stress in the workplace are rising.’

‘Talking of stress in the workplace — how’s your strike threat coming on?

‘It’s still just a possibility, though a couple of the secretaries are muttering about it loud enough for the head honcho to hear. They’ll get their marching orders if they’re not careful. One of them’s still on her probation period, so won’t have any employment protection and the other one’s a contract worker, so I don’t know where she’d stand.’

‘I think you should be thankful you’ve still got a job and that your firm’s a profitable one. There are too many people on the dole and scrabbling for work these days to risk losing secure employment.’

‘Oh pooh. I can hear your mother talking. She was always one for security at any cost. You can’t blame her I suppose as she was widowed so young. It’d make anyone cautious. And even though you were widowed young, too, you were hardly in the same position as your mother to so harp on at me about security.’ She gave a slow grin as she added, ‘Anyone would think you didn’t want me to be a kept woman. But don’t worry. I don’t want to be a kept woman, either. I’ve always enjoyed having financial independence and I won’t give it up when we marry.’

‘I haven’t asked you to.’

‘No. And you won’t. You’d rather keep me working, you slave driver.’

‘Well, as that’s what you want to do I can’t see what the problem is.’

‘Do you know something? Neither can I. Let’s get dinner.’

Abra brought the plates through to the living room and Rafferty tucked in heartily. ‘This is great’ he said. ‘You can do this again. It really hits the spot.’

‘Good. I aim to please. So I’ll see a clean plate?’

‘You bet. Mind I don’t start on yours after.’

‘You dare.’

They ate in silence for a couple of minutes then Rafferty said, ‘You’ve heard about my day tell me about yours.’

‘Busy. Adrian Gallagher sent in his note. It put my boss in a foul mood.’

Adrian Gallagher, as Rafferty recollected from previous work chats, was one of her theatrical agency’s star turns, and yet another difficult client; demanding and never satisfied.

‘Bet that brought a cheer to the workers.’

‘You bet. Of course the bigwigs were indignant about ‘all they’d done for him’, but the reality is it was Gallagher’s move to the agency that raised
their
profile and income.

Today, it seemed, Gallagher had written to say he was moving himself and his high earning capacity to another agency. No wonder, on top of the simmering strike threat, it had put her boss in a bad mood.

‘Anyway, I told them I had a dental appointment and finished early, which is why I had time to make a casserole.’

‘All I can say is, you can finish early every day, as far as I’m concerned.’

‘I’ll have a word with my boss, and tell him my husband to-be demands his dumplings so I have to leave early regularly.’

‘Do that.’

‘As if. I’d get the sack for sure if I tried it. You’d be able to have dumplings every day.’

‘Suits me.’

‘Well it doesn’t suit me. I’d be bored out of my skull if I was at home every day.’

‘Still you might have to think about it if we have a baby.’

‘I’ll think about it when that happens. So how many kids do you want, anyway?’

‘Four seems a nice round number.’

‘Four? That’s two too many for me. My name might mean “Mother of multitudes,” but that doesn’t mean I have to live up to it. After all it won’t be you that has to have them.’

‘True. But I’ll help with feeds and nappies. As the oldest of six I’ve plenty of practise with nappies.’

‘That’s good to know. Still let’s get the wedding over first before we start thinking of tiny feet pattering.’

‘Talking of the wedding, have you got your dress yet?’

‘Yes. Of course. You don’t think I’d leave it till the last minute, do you? It’s in the wardrobe at my flat.’

‘What’s it like?’

‘I’m not telling you. You’ll find out soon enough.’

‘I’ll bet you look gorgeous in it.’

‘You bet right. I do.’

‘I knew you would. I don’t look so bad myself in my wedding gear.’

‘We’ll make a perfect pair then.’

‘Won’t we just? I can’t wait. These last days till we get hitched seem to be taking forever. I can’t wait to be married to you. It can’t come quickly enough for me.’

‘You always have to wait for the best things in life,’ Abra teased him. ‘Meanwhile you can help me stack the dishwasher.’

‘I’ll do it. You pour us both a drink and sit down. After preparing and cooking such a lovely meal you deserve a break from being a domestic goddess.’

This was something of a joke, because Abra would be the first one to admit she hated housework.

Abra smiled. ‘I do love a volunteer.’

‘I’ll volunteer to do anything for you.’

‘Good. Get clearing then.’

‘Yes Ma’am.’ Rafferty picked up the plates and headed for the kitchen. It didn’t take long to stack the dishwasher and he was soon back. He sat down on the settee beside Abra, and raised his glass. ‘Cheers. Here’s to our wedding day and our future together.’

‘Seconded. To tell the truth I can’t wait either.’

Rafferty got up and put a CD on the stereo. ‘I thought we’d have a bit of music. I’ve put Barry White on. I know he’s one of your favourite singers.’

‘Barry White, hey? Feeling lucky?’

Rafferty grinned. ‘You sussed me, you witch. You know me too well.’ He paused, ‘So.
Are
you feeling Barry Whiteish.’

‘I might be,’ she temporised. ‘Let’s wait and see how he does, shall we?’

‘Come on, then, Barry. Do your stuff.’ Rafferty picked up his glass again and took a sip. ‘That hits the spot. It’s been a rough day. I’ve all these suspects and nothing certain about any of them.’ Apart from one, he said to himself. And the certain thing I have about him, I’d rather not have.

‘Poor Joe. Are there no leads?’

‘Not so’s you’d notice. And few alibis. There are a number of suspects who could be guilty of the murder, but no proof against any of them.’

‘You’ll get there. You always have before.’

‘Sometimes more by luck than judgement.’

‘It doesn’t matter how you get there as long as you do.’

‘I suppose so. I’ll have to hope for a bit of luck on this one I think.’

‘Say some prayers then. Get in practise for the wedding.’

‘Say some prayers? I’ve had enough of prayers. Father Kelly’s been putting me through my paces these last few weeks. You’d think it might have earned me some brownie points with the Almighty and led him to put some luck my way, but it hasn’t.’

‘Never mind. Come to bed. Barry White must be working overtime tonight. He’s got me all tingly. Perhaps a bit of physical activity will make you feel better.’

‘Perhaps it will. I’m prepared to give it a try.’

‘Thought you might be’ Abra laughed. She finished her drink and stood up. ‘Come on then, lover. Let’s go and make beautiful Barry White music together.’

Rafferty knocked back the rest of his Jameson’s and stood up with alacrity. ‘Anything you say, Ma’am. After you in the bathroom.’

Abra led the way. The bathroom ablutions didn’t take long and they were soon tucked up cosily in bed.

Rafferty put his arm around Abra and kissed her. ‘Just think – soon you’ll be Mrs Rafferty. I can’t wait to make an honest woman of you.’

‘I’m an honest woman already, I’ll have you know, Joseph Aloysius.’

‘Not that name again, I beg you.’

‘Kiss me again and I’ll think about it.’

Rafferty duly obliged, then asked, ‘Are you thinking?’

‘You bet, Ally.’

‘Think a bit harder.’

‘I’d rather get down and dirty.’

‘Me too. But you can still do some thinking while we make beautiful music together.’

‘Let’s hear the music first and I’ll see.’

Used to obeying orders, he duly played the first few notes.

Rafferty had slept well. He got up, eager to be off and out to speak to Gary Oldfield. The man had already proved himself a liar; maybe he had persuaded Diana Rexton to lie for him also, and had rehearsed her in the lie. But more likely, given her transparent honesty, she had fallen asleep, and was unaware that Oldfield could have slipped out. But, either way, it was clear she was head over heels in love with Oldfield and would do anything for him. Did that anything, include cover up for murder, Rafferty wondered?

His antipathy towards Oldfield meant he was looking forward to breaking the news to him that his grubby little affair was secret no longer.

‘Why did you have to tell Diana about me and Adrienne? Now she’ll want me to tell her every five minutes that I love her. I could have done without you upsetting her.’

‘I rather think it’s you that has upset your girlfriend, Sir,’ Rafferty told Oldfield. ‘She said she already knew about the affair before we brought the matter up.’