Death Dance (8 page)

Once Llewellyn had gone off to the canteen, Rafferty glanced through the latest reports on the Welshman’s desk. But as Dafyd had said, there was nothing of any interest there.

Llewellyn came back with the tea and they drank it in silence, Rafferty pondering what to do next. He asked Llewellyn, ‘Have we had anything in yet from the roadside patrol I set up?’ He had organised a roadside survey on the main road nearest to the turn off to the Staveleys’ side road in the hope that someone had seen a car going up there before the murder or returning afterwards. But Llewellyn told him nothing had yet come in.

Rafferty was fed up with the stalemate situation; he wanted to be up and doing.

‘Find out how the super’s secretary is getting on with transcribing Adrienne Staveley’s diary, will you, Dafyd? She must have made a start by now, no matter how demanding the old man is. I told her it was urgent.’

Ten minutes later, Rafferty had the transcript that had so far been typed. There were some gaps in it and Llewellyn explained them.

‘It seems shorthand writers develop their own short forms for some words and the superintendent’s secretary didn’t want to guess and perhaps make a mistake. Also, she said Mrs Staveley’s shorthand must have been a bit rusty as her outlines weren’t always terribly accurate. She says she did the best she could.’

Rafferty had told Anne, the super’s secretary, to start on the part of the diary that was written in the month before Adrienne’s murder. Adrienne clearly hadn’t been a prolific diary writer: for some days there were no entries at all, and for others just a few lines. But on some dates she had gone in for more detailed entries.

‘Listen to this,’ said Rafferty. ‘”
Met Mike at the Black Swan and had a great meal. Came back home and had an exhausting sex session. He’s almost as good a lover as Gary. Can’t wait till next week when we meet again
.”’ He flipped over the page and said, ‘Here’s another one. “
Gary came over at lunchtime and we went to bed. Two blank hours. He really is very inventive. Great blank and even greater cock
”. Rafferty grinned. Bet the super’s secretary got hot under the collar when she read that.’ The super’s secretary, Anne Amos, was a fifty-something spinster who had always struck Rafferty as being repressed. Poor cow, he thought, she deserves a bit of a vicarious thrill, having to put up the Superintendent Bradley.

‘At least we have it confirmed that Gary Oldfield and Michael Peacock were her lovers,’ Llewellyn commented.

‘Yes. Although Peacock didn’t lie to us, Oldfield did. Just good friends, he said, or words to that effect. We’ll have to question the pair again now that we’re armed with this new information. I know Diana Rexton alibied Oldfield, but, given that he lied to us about the nature of his relationship with Adrienne Staveley, he’s now become worthy of a second interview bout.’

Rafferty read through the rest of the transcript. It seemed that Adrienne’s relationship with Oldfield was more serious than the one with Peacock. She appeared to have been pushing him to set up home with her, but Oldfield was proving reluctant. ‘I wonder if John Staveley suspected any of this,’ he commented after he read out the relevant part of the diary to Llewellyn.

‘What is it they say? That it’s always the husband who’s the last to know.’

‘Still, going on under his nose in his own house and I presume in his own bed — it makes you think. I can’t wait to read the rest of the transcripts. We might learn the identity of the mysterious third man she was seen with.’

‘I doubt it.’ Llewellyn poured cold water on his hopes. ‘So far, she’s only used first names.’

‘Well, we might get lucky. Let’s go and see Oldfield and Peacock and find out if we can’t get them to admit they were her lovers. Faced with this transcript I don’t see how they can deny it.’

One precautionary look out the window told Rafferty that the day had turned even more wet and blustery, so he threw on his raincoat before they went to see Gary Oldfield.

They found him at the used car lot where he worked. He was sharply dressed as he had been the last time they had seen him; today sported a pair of flashy cufflinks — gold with silver detail and a raised red pattern of what looked like a Bentley.

When Rafferty told him that they knew from Adrienne Staveley’s diary that he had been her lover, his previous line of ready chat dried up and he became far more reticent. Luckily for him, his girlfriend had confirmed that’s Oldfield had been with her during the two-hour period covering the time when Sam Dally had said Adrienne Staveley had been murdered.

Still he had failed to tell them something that might turn out to be relevant to the inquiry and Rafferty waved the relevant page of the transcript under his nose. ‘It’s all in here,’ he said. ‘Apparently, Mrs Staveley admired your sexual technique.’

This brought a grin to Oldfield’s face. ‘Nice to be appreciated.’

‘I also understand she was pushing you to move your relationship up a notch: she wanted you to set up home together.’

‘That was never going to happen, she knew that. I’d made it clear enough. Adrienne was good for a fling, but that was as far as it went. She knows I’m with Diana and that, in spite of her parents’ opposition, we hope to marry.’

His girlfriend, Diana Rexton, had come as a surprise to Rafferty: very plain and homely, with what he considered a shapeless figure, her love for Oldfield had shone out of her plain face. Rafferty would have suspected her of lying about Oldfield’s whereabouts at the time of the murder, but she was so transparently honest that he had believed her when she had agreed that he had been with her. He wished he hadn’t. Still she might be mistaken. She could have fallen asleep, enabling him to slip out for half-an-hour. He hadn’t asked her if that was a possibility. Maybe he should. It was quite likely that she wouldn’t attempt to lie to him and even if she did, her natural honesty wouldn’t allow her to do so convincingly. But that was for another time. Right now it was Oldfield he was questioning.

‘So you admit that you and she were having an affair?’

‘Doesn’t look like I’ve got much choice. Yes, we were sleeping together, though there wasn’t a lot of sleeping going on.’ Oldfield grinned again. ‘She was a bit of a goer, Adrienne. I doubt I was her only lover.’

Rafferty didn’t mention Michael Peacock or the third as yet unidentified male. They were none of Oldfield’s business. Maybe Adrienne had pressed Oldfield harder than he admitted for them to set up home together and it had all gone sour. He had the feeling that Oldfield had a nasty streak and wouldn’t hesitate to resort to physical violence if he thought it necessary.

‘How often did you and Mrs Staveley get together for sex?’

‘Once or twice a week, depending on my hours.’

‘And how long had your affair been going on?’

‘Around five months.’

So only one month after her husband had been made redundant Adrienne had turned to another man for solace. It didn’t say much for her loyalty. But then the transcripts of her diary had already made that more than clear.

‘Well, thank you for being so frank. Mr Oldfield. We may need to speak to you again.’

Oldfield shrugged his sharply suited shoulders. ‘You know where to find me.’

‘Yes, we do, don’t we? Come along, Llewellyn, let’s not take up any more of Mr Oldfield’s valuable time.’

Their car was parked at the kerb right outside the used car lot and they were soon on their way to see Michael Peacock. But this time they were unlucky. He wasn’t home. They would have to come back that evening.

‘Let’s get along to the roadside survey team and see how they’re getting on,’ said Rafferty. ‘They might have something by now and I don’t want to wait for them to make their report.’

The roadside team had a queue of cars lined up awaiting their attention.

Rafferty parked up and strolled over to the head of the queue where the officers were questioning a lady driver. ‘How’s it going lads?’ he asked.

‘Slowly sir,’ said the officer clutching the clipboard. He was new to the team and Rafferty was unable to recall his name. ‘So far no one’s admitted to seeing a car either going or coming from that side road.’

Rafferty pulled a face. ‘What — nobody at all?’

The officer shook his head.

Rafferty had hoped for more as they had precious little to go on. They had a number of contenders for the role of murderer, but, so far, no strong evidence against any of them.

Rafferty stomped his way back to the car and headed for the station. ‘I suppose I can expect Bradley to bawl me out again when we get back. God, but he’s an unreasonable old bugger.’

‘He was ever one for impressing Region with quick results,’ said Llewellyn as he pulled up – unnecessarily in Rafferty’s opinion ––at the amber light showing at the traffic lights, changed into neutral and put the brake on. They could easily have made it through if Llewellyn had only put his foot down.

It was unlike Llewellyn to criticise others, particularly a senior officer, and Rafferty turned to him in surprise. ‘What brought that on?’

‘Perhaps I got out of bed on the wrong side. But I agree with you that Superintendent Bradley can be unreasonable. By his unhelpful attitude he just puts more, unnecessary, pressure on the team.’

‘Hallelujah! Finally, I’ve got you to let your hair down and say what you really think of our esteemed leader. Can I have it in writing? I’ll get it framed.’

‘It’s never a good idea to put such opinions in writing. One never knows when they’ll come back to haunt one.’

Rafferty laughed. ‘One’s right,’ he mimicked. ‘One doesn’t. Still,’ he added, ‘it’s good to know you agree with me. It makes me feel better.’

Superintendent Bradley gave him the expected bawling out, but this time Rafferty took it with a pinch of salt, comforted by the fact that Llewellyn also thought Bradley an unsupportive twat even though he had chosen a more polite way to say it. Bradley must have kissed some arses at Region to make it to the rank of superintendent. Rafferty could only hope he caught something nasty from the next one he kissed.

Rafferty was due to take his ma shopping that evening. He normally took her every week. He considered putting it off as he’d already had a long day, but decided against it. It wouldn’t be fair as his ma looked forward to his visits and to him taking her to the supermarket.

As always, she was ready when he rang her doorbell, her permed hair just so, and the waft of hairspray coming off her. ‘Hello, son,’ she said. ‘Looking forward to your big day?’

‘Yes, but I’ve been getting the collywobbles about making my speech.’

‘Go on, you’ll be fine. Just imagine you’re talking to young Tim Smales. There’s nothing to be frightened of there, is there?’

‘Little Timmy Smales? No. No. You’re right. I’ll keep Smales in mind. Shall we go?’

‘Yes. I’m ready.’

They went out to the car and Rafferty helped her in and tucked her skirt around her.

The supermarket wasn’t far and the shopping soon done as ma always wrote a list and was very efficient and not easily distracted by eye-catching offers.

Rafferty drove her home again and went in for a cup of tea and a sandwich.

Ma bustled about in the kitchen. She quickly reappeared bearing his tea and beef sandwiches.

Rafferty took a huge bite ‘Mmm, these are beautiful, Ma.’

‘They should be, with the price of beef. I only buy it occasionally when it’s on special offer at the butchers.’

‘How are you managing? I can let you have a bit more money if you need it.’ Rafferty put money into his ma’s bank account regularly each month as did his two brothers.

‘No, son, I’m all right. I can’t expect you to fork out more with your wedding so close. You’re good enough to me as it is. Besides, I manage very well on the whole. I’m good at managing; after being widowed with six kids to feed and clothe, I’ve had to be.’

She sat down and nursed her own tea. ‘So how’s Abra? Not getting cold feet?’

There was that question again. Did everyone else know something he didn’t? he wondered. ‘No, she’s fine. Looking forward to the wedding as I am, though she’s worried we’ll have to postpone the honeymoon.’

‘Oh, honeymoons. They’re over-rated in my experience. On our wedding night your father went to the pub and forgot to come back to the room. I spent the entire night on my own and was woken at six o’clock by the landlady complaining that my husband was fast asleep on her doorstep.’

Rafferty laughed. He’d heard this story before, but it still amused him. He could just picture his father curled up, quite comfortably, on his landlady’s doorstep. He imagined he wasn’t quite so comfortable when roused and treated to his ma’s acerbic tongue, which he thought likely to be as capable of giving a deserved lashing then as it was today. He could almost feel sorry for his old man. Still, he’d been wrong to stay out till the early hours on his wedding night. His poor ma must have felt horribly embarrassed. Not much of a start to married life. At least
his
wouldn’t start in such a way.

‘So, how have you been, Ma? You’re keeping well? How’s my great-nephew?’ His niece, Gemma, had had a son, whom she had named Joseph as a compliment to him, though the family all called him Joey. She was a young, unmarried mother and she and the child lived with her mother, Maggie, Rafferty’s sister.

‘I’m fine,’ his ma told him. ‘And little Joey’s blooming and growing fast. You ought to make time to go and see them.’

‘I will, Ma, as soon as this case is over.’ The things he was going to do when this case was over…

‘How are your sandwiches?’

‘Delicious,’ said Rafferty again as he finished the last one. His ma always stuffed him with food when he came to see her and always wanted praise for her servings. Rafferty, replete, was happy to oblige her.

‘I get the beef from the butchers on the High Street. They’re independents and their meat’s always reliable. You know where they get it from; not like the supermarkets with their horsemeat passed off as beef.’ She finished her tea and sat back. ‘I hope you get your latest case solved before your honeymoon.’