Murder Ring (A DI Geraldine Steel Mystery) (4 page)

‘Lenny, I’m talking to you.’

‘I can hear you.’

‘I asked where you been?’

‘You know bloody well where I been.’

‘Why would I be asking where you been, if I knew where you been?’

‘I been in the nick. You can’t have forgotten.’

‘Course I know you was in the nick. I seen you there. And I know you was out Monday. And I want to know where you been since then.’

‘What, since Monday you mean?’

‘Yeah, since Monday. I been waiting here for you to come home.’

It was only Tuesday. He had been out less than twenty-four hours, meeting up with some mates. At first he couldn’t be bothered to answer but she kept on and on at him until he lost his temper. It was always the same with her. She could never leave it alone.

‘I suppose you been at your mum’s, and she took all your pay off you what should’ve come to me.’

‘I haven’t spoke to my mum.’

He reached into his pocket for the wallet. In the daylight he could see it must have cost a fair bit, real leather by the looks of it. He drew out a handful of notes. That shut her up. Eyes fixed on the dosh, she took a step forward and snatched at it. He let her have it. Poor cow, it must’ve been a struggle for her while he’d been inside.

‘How you been managing, babe?’ he asked.

He watched her count the money. Sixty quid. That meant he still had over forty for himself. He grinned as she stuffed the notes in her pocket.

‘You can feed yourself up a bit,’ he said. ‘You look skinnier than ever. You don’t eat properly.’

‘Where’s the rest of it?’ she demanded, hands on hips.

‘That’s all they give me.’

‘Liar.’

Just then he remembered the small blue box he had nicked off the stiff along with his wallet. He felt in his pocket for it.

‘Look, I got you this!’

‘What is it?’

‘It’s a present. I got it for you.’

She took the little box, scowling. When she opened it her chin dropped and her eyes grew round with wonder. Poor cow didn’t get many presents.

‘Where the hell did you get this?’

He hesitated an instant too long and cursed himself for failing to prepare his story. ‘Never mind that. It’s for you. Do you like it?’

‘I bloody love it!’

He was taken aback by her enthusiasm. She picked the ring out of the box and slipped it straight on the third finger on her left hand. Without taking her eyes off the jewel, she waved her hand in the air.

‘It’s beautiful.’

Just as he began to relax, she spoke again. Her voice was soft but her words shocked him.

‘I thought you never wanted to get hitched. And now look at us. We’re engaged! Where did you get it, honest?’

‘I been saving up,’ he faltered. ‘I been working –’

‘Working? What you talking about? You been in the nick –’

It was worse than being interrogated by the police. At least she was distracted by the ring. He carried on, doing his best to convince her he had scrimped and starved just for her, even sacrificing the chance of a packet of fags so he could save a few extra quid.

‘Over eighteen months, it all adds up, you know.’

‘What does?’

‘They give you jobs in there, you know. I saved every scrap so I could get you something. I wanted to make it up to you.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘How much did it cost then?’

He glanced at her hand. It was quite a rock. He licked his lips and hesitated. He hadn’t realised what a nice bit of ice was in that box. If it was real, it would be worth a fortune.

‘How much?’

‘Enough.’

‘Where the hell did you get hold of something like this?’

‘Jesus, Gina, a bloke can’t get nothing past you. All right, for fuck’s sake, this is how I come by it. There was this stiff in an alley way –’

‘A stiff?’

‘Yeah. He’d been shot.’

‘Did you do it?’

‘Fuck off. I only just come out the nick. You wanna hear this or not?’

She nodded.

‘So I checked his pockets – it would’ve been stupid not to – and that’s what I found. So I waited all night to get a bloke I know to check it out. That’s why I never come home until now.’

He smiled, admiring his own deftness in getting out of trouble.

‘And? What did he say?’

‘He told me it’s worth a lot. A good few thousand, he reckoned. So I thought to myself, when am I ever gonna get anything like that for my girl? You know I always been good to you.’

‘But –’

‘It’s special,’ he pressed on. ‘Only the best is good enough for my girl, that’s what I thought. It’s a real rock. It’s what you deserve.’

‘It didn’t cost you a penny.’

‘I could’ve sold it and kept the dosh, but I wanted to give it to you. You’re worth more than any amount of dosh to me.’

She looked dubious, then she fluttered her hand in front of his face. The diamond sparkled. Different colours seemed to shine from it, mesmerising. It might be really valuable, worth far more than he could ever afford.

‘I thought you’d be pleased. Of course, if you don’t want it –’

‘Don’t be daft. Of course I want it. Anyway, it’s mine now, ain’t it?’

He considered, while she waved her hand in front of his face. The diamond glowed at him with a seductive inner fire. She was right. Bloody hell. It could be worth thousands. He had to get it back. Seeing the ring sit loosely on her finger, he had a brain wave.

‘It don’t look right. It’s too big. It might fit on your index finger.’

She fell for it at once. ‘No way. It goes on this finger. It’s an engagement ring, isn’t it?’

‘I’ll have to get it fixed then, so it fits proper, like it was made for you. You don’t want it falling off because it don’t fit.’

‘You want me to give it back to you?’

‘Just till I get it made so it fits proper.’

‘But we’d still be engaged?’

‘If you want. Yes, yes, of course,’ he changed his answer quickly, seeing her expression darken. ‘That don’t make no difference. Come on, give it here so I can get it fixed proper. You wouldn’t know where to take it. You can’t trust a stranger with a rock like that. Rip you off as soon as look at you. Any old jeweller’s going to replace a real diamond with a shit bit of glass, and you won’t even know.’

‘This is a real diamond, ain’t it, Lenny?’

‘Only the best for my girl, that’s what I said. Look, I’ll take it to a geezer I know and he’ll sort it just like that, no questions asked. You’ll have it back in no time.’

‘How do I know I can trust
you
not to nick it off me?’

‘What you talking about, you daft cow? I gave it you in the first place. It’s worth a fucking fortune and that’s what you’re worth to me.’

She couldn’t argue with that. Reverently she slipped it off her finger and replaced it in the box. Pocketing it, he suppressed a grin. He had plans of his own for her new trinket. He was going to clean up, and she would never know.

4

E
NTERING HER OFFICE,
Geraldine was surprised to see someone occupying the desk that had belonged to her former colleague, Nick. No one living knew that she had been involved in a brief affair with him before he had been murdered. She braced herself to be civil to the man now sitting in Nick’s place, on his chair, at his desk, fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard that had felt Nick’s touch.

‘Good morning.’

Her new colleague spun round then sprang to his feet, one hand extended in greeting. Fighting to control her distress, she was aware of laughter creases around blue eyes that smiled a welcome. He was young and fair haired. With candid eyes, straight nose, slightly sunken cheeks and a neat pointed chin, he was charismatic rather than good looking. He gave an impression of energy, a physical dynamism that she couldn’t help finding attractive.

‘Neil Roberts,’ he said as he shook her hand firmly. ‘You must be Geraldine.’

They sat down and chatted briefly. Neil was also a detective inspector, and recently promoted to the Met from Surrey.

‘I’m really excited to be in London,’ he added with boyish enthusiasm.

Geraldine couldn’t help smiling.

‘You’re on this new case, aren’t you? The mugging.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m on standby right now, so if there’s anything I can do –’

Geraldine turned away, momentarily overcome. Nick had made the same offer once.

‘Thank you,’ she mumbled. ‘And now, I need to crack on. I’ve got to go and tell the wife.’

David Lester had lived with his wife near West Acton station, straight through on the underground from Central London. Laura was considerably younger than him, and they had only been married for two years. They had no children. Aware that the traffic could be slow moving, Geraldine decided to take the underground. If there were delays, at least she would be able to work on the train. Arriving in West Acton, she walked along a street of small black and white houses. With a wide, leafy central reservation running along the centre of the road, it was an attractive estate. She turned off into a side street and found the house she was looking for, a small end of terrace cottage. A plump blonde woman came to the door. She looked about thirty. For a moment Geraldine wondered if she was David Lester’s daughter.

‘Are you related to David Lester?’

‘He’s my husband.’

‘May I come in?’

On learning who Geraldine was, the young woman fired a series of questions at her.

‘What do you want? What’s this about? Has something happened to David? He didn’t come home last night. Where is he? What’s happened? Is he in trouble? He’s in trouble, isn’t he? Where is he?’

Geraldine urged Laura to invite her in. ‘It would be better if you sat down.’

The other woman’s face grew pale, as though she understood what was coming, but she persisted with her aggressive questions. ‘Why? What’s happened?’

At last they went inside. Laura sat down on a pink leather sofa. Geraldine perched on a matching armchair and glanced around the room. On a mantelpiece above a boxed-in fireplace she saw what she was looking for: a photograph of the dead man with one arm around the woman who sat facing her.

‘Mrs Lester,’ she began softly. ‘I’m really sorry to bring you some bad news.’

She remembered hearing about the death of her own adoptive mother, and the initial feeling of disbelief that had protected her. In those first moments, being the bearer of terrible news was worse than receiving it. Only later would reality hit, once the shock had subsided.

‘I’m afraid we have reason to believe your husband, David, has been the victim of a fatal mugging.’

‘What? I don’t understand. He didn’t come home last night – or at least, he wasn’t home when I went to bed, but they were going out for a meal because someone was leaving, so I knew he’d be late. That’s all. He must have come home in the early hours of the morning, and gone out again before I woke up. It’s nothing more than that. I’m sorry for your trouble but you’ve got this all wrong. You’ve made a big mistake. I never even reported him missing.’ She gave a high-pitched laugh. ‘You ask David, he’ll tell you, I’m the worrier. If there’s anything wrong, I’m always the first to suspect it, but he’s fine, I know he is. He knows how to take care of himself. He always takes care of me. I’m the one –’

She stopped talking abruptly and burst into tears. Geraldine gave her a moment before asking if there was anyone who could come round.

Laura shook her head. ‘I want David, I want David.’

As gently as she could, Geraldine told the distraught woman what had happened. Laura cried and shook her head. All at once she raised a tear-stained face.

‘Mugged?’ she repeated. ‘You said he was mugged?’

‘It appears that way. We need you to identify the body to be sure it is your husband.’

The newly bereaved widow nodded her head.

‘Laura, I know this is difficult, but there are certain questions I need to ask you. Can you think of anyone who might have wanted your husband dead?’

‘You said he was mugged.’

‘That’s what we think, but we have to consider every possibility.’

Ignoring Geraldine’s question, Laura wanted to know what had been stolen.

‘We don’t know. We assume his wallet was stolen as he had no money or phone on his person, only a set of keys and an Oyster card.’

‘What about my ring? Did he have my ring? You need to check his pockets. It’ll be in a box.’

Geraldine sat forward. ‘What ring?’

‘He was taking my engagement ring to London to get it resized. I told him not to take it all the way up there. He could have lost it, or… he said he was going to try and get to the jewellers yesterday to take it in, but he rang when he finished work and said he hadn’t had time to get there but he said he’d take it in today. That’s why he was mugged, wasn’t it? My ring, my ring. It was my engagement ring.’