Taunting the Dead (12 page)

Steph gave her husband a tight-lipped smile. ‘Yep, that’s me. Selfish Steph.’

Terry grinned at her. ‘That is so funny. No, really. “Selfish Steph.” Now, why didn’t I think of that one?’

As Carole joined in with his laughter, Steph got to her feet and grabbed her handbag. ‘Need some air,’ she muttered before storming outside, practically knocking over the poor waiter who had come to collect the dishes.

Dragging heavily on a cigarette went some way to calming her down, but inside Steph was fuming. Why did they always have to have a go at her? If it wasn’t about her opinion, it would be about what she was wearing. About what she had been doing.

Still, at least the meal was free as Carole and Shaun never let them pay. And Steph always made sure she drank lots for that reason too.

She sighed loudly. Usually she enjoyed their lunches, even though Shaun was as moody as ever. But, for once, she’d like to have a laugh with people who weren’t laughing at her, who weren’t mocking her.

She huddled in the doorway, the rain pouring down outside, dark clouds matching her mood. She hitched her bag onto her shoulder and, in a moment of anger, walked away to join the throng of shoppers. Fuck the three of them: if they wanted to be petty about things, then so could she.

After a brisk walk into town, she soon realised it had been a bad plan. The wind blowing the rain into her face, she stopped off at Walkabout and ordered a double vodka. Two hour later, with a few more inside her, she made her way back.

The restaurant was empty apart from the three of them by now. Terry was laughing at something that Carole was saying, their heads bent together in conversation. Shaun was wiping glasses behind the bar. Jeez, he looked more miserable than when she’d left.

‘Well, well, well.’ Terry laughed snidely. ‘The wanderer returns.’ Steph walked past him but he grabbed her arm and pulled her onto his knee.

‘You’re drunk,’ she told him, smelling alcohol on his breath.

‘I’ve only had a whiskey with my coffee, my love
. I
can always stop at one, not like you. Did you buy anything? Maybe something to wear before you hang yourself?’

Steph’s body tensed as he and Carole began to laugh. ‘Don’t start again,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t funny the first time.’

‘Get a grip, Steph.’ Terry pushed her off his knee. ‘You harp on about shit all the time and we sit back and take it. Actually, we’ve had quite a nice lunch without you running someone or other down.’

Steph leaned forward and poured a large glass of wine. Then, as the background music came to a finish, she filled the silence.

‘For your information, dear husband,’ she stared at Terry and then pointed at Carole, ‘and yours, I had a far better time walking around the shops on my own than sitting listening to you three going on about your businesses and how much money you’re making and how everything is hunky-dory in your lives.’

‘Don’t make me laugh.’ Carole folded her arms. ‘Our lives are as far from hunky-dory as they are happy ever after. I’m sick of you insinuating all the time that we have money to burn. We don’t. In fact –’

‘That’s enough, Carole,’ Shaun’s raised voice reached them.

Carole turned to him and sneered. She’d wondered where he’d sloped off to the minute Steph had gone off in a sulk. He glared back at her but, spirit boosted by the wine, she didn’t care.

‘Someone needs to tell her that things don’t only go wrong in Steph Ryder’s world.’ She pulled herself to her feet. ‘Someone ought to tell Steph Ryder that sometimes this friend of hers would like to have a shoulder to cry on instead of listening to
her
woes all the time. Not that she has any woes worth listening TO! Her woes are whether or not she has enough whiskey to keep her occupied for the next few days and whether she has enough fags to choke herself on for the next few days.’

‘I beg your pardon!’ said Steph.

‘You don’t care about your family,’ Carole continued. ‘You have a lovely daughter that you don’t give a stuff about. You have a beautiful house – sorry,
mansion
– that you don’t care about. You’re not even grateful that you’re fed and clothed and looked after by someone else. And it’s crystal clear that you don’t care about him, either.’ Carole nodded her head in the direction of Terry. ‘All you care about is yourself!’

‘Ladies,’ Shaun came over then. ‘I think you both ought to calm down.’ He turned to look at Terry who was clearly amused by the scene in front of him. ‘You need to take her home.’

‘Giving orders now, are we?’ He didn’t even look up as he got out his phone.

‘No, I –’

Terry ordered a taxi as the two women squared up again. He sighed loudly afterwards. ‘Funny how alcohol can change the mood of any happy occasion in the blink of an eye. Come on, Steph. Let’s go. We’ve obviously outstayed our welcome.’

Carole sat down now, the bravado she’d felt earlier disappearing quickly. She rarely fell out with Steph to this level. They had words all the time because Steph always had to be right, or share a heated opinion that had to be agreed to. But Carole, like now, usually backed down. Steph when she was miserable was bad enough. Steph when she was angry? Sometimes Carole couldn’t cope with her.

The room was silent except for the music that had started up again in the background, the atmosphere in minus degrees. They heard a horn peep outside.

‘Come on, drunkard,’ said Terry, taking Steph’s elbow.

‘I’m not drunk.’ Steph shrugged his hand away.

‘Yeah, like you haven’t been into a pub and knocked back a couple. Let’s get you home to sleep that off.’

‘Home to bed with you?’ Steph’s mood changed in a flash. She grabbed Terry’s crotch playfully.

‘Christ, will you listen to her,’ Carole muttered.

Suddenly Steph launched herself across the room. Shaun put an arm in front of Carole and took the brunt of her slug. Terry grabbed Steph around the waist.

‘What is wrong with you?’ he cried as he pulled her towards the door. ‘This is going too far again. What did I tell you the other day?’

Long before the taxi pulled up in the driveway of The Gables, Steph knew she was in for a tongue-lashing. Terry hadn’t uttered a word to her all the way back. Once at home, he marched into the house. She dawdled behind him but as soon as the front door was closed, he spun round to face her.

‘You are despicable at times,’ he screeched. ‘How I keep my hands from you, I don’t know because I could fucking KILL you right now.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘I won’t stand for it.’

‘Look, I’ve said I’m sorry. What more do you want from me?’

Terry pushed her away and headed for the stairs. ‘It’s not me you should be apologising to. I’m not the one you launched yourself at. It’s a good job I held you back.’

‘You know I’d never intentionally hurt Carole. I –’

Terry started to walk up.

‘I’ll change.’ Steph tore after him. ‘I promise. I’ll dry myself out. Clean myself up. I will!’

Terry shook off her arm as he went through into their bedroom. He removed his jacket and placed it neatly over a chair. Steph hung back in the doorway, afraid to go in, in case he started on her again. She hated it when he was like this, when he took the moral high-and-mighty because he was right.

Terry slipped off his shoes and moved to the wardrobes. He pulled out a clean pair of jeans and cast his eyes over his shirts before pulling out a white one.

‘You’re not going out again?’ Steph moaned.

‘I have to sort out number fourteen.’

‘But I’ve hardly seen you this week!’

Terry rushed across the room and grabbed her arm. ‘Have you any idea what happened to Sarah Maddison before she died? She was beaten up and then stabbed. Maybe I should do the same to you.’

Steph looked into his eyes, her fear reflecting in his anger. Panic began to build up inside her.

Then just as suddenly, Terry released his grip and moved away.

‘You’ve pushed me to the limit, Steph.’ He whipped off his shirt and threw it into the washing basket. ‘You’re out of control and you could cause me some serious damage by shooting your mouth off. So for your sake, take that as a warning.’

Once in the bathroom, Terry banged his fist into the middle of a stack of fluffy white towels. Again and again. Grabbing Steph around the neck had been stupid. One mark on her, along with a phone call to the police from a pissed-up wife, and his plans would be scuppered. If the police got wind of anything untoward happening in the lead-up to her death, then he could become prime suspect. He wouldn’t have that. She’d ruined his life for as long as he could stand it.

While Terry took a shower, Steph curled up on the bed and cried into her pillow. Her life was going from bad to worse. It was okay for Carole to mock her that afternoon but, really, she knew that everyone hated her. She was screwed, in more ways than one if her visit to Doctor Turner revealed what she thought it might do now that things were more evident to her.

The thought that Terry would throw her out didn’t often surface but when it did, she always remembered the snide remarks at the party for their last anniversary. No one had thought they would last one year, never mind two decades. She knew they all wondered why Terry stayed with a drunken bitch like her when he could have his pick of women. And she knew there’d been other women. He was Terry Ryder, the charmer.

But he was also Terry Ryder, the crook. She knew that the police were looking into him and his associates. Occasionally, he’d get a phone call from one of the car washes saying they’d been raided after an anonymous tip-off. They’d never found anything concrete yet because the main business was over in Derby but there was always the possibility that one day someone would slip up. And the authorities were bound to know what went on at Ryder’s Row. One day Terry would get his come-uppance and then all this would be hers. After all, it was in her name.

She glanced over at the wardrobes. There were only three people who knew about the compartments hidden away in there. Terry would go mad if he ever found out that she’d let it slip to Carole one night. But she knew her friend would keep it to herself. No one would ever find them if they didn’t know they were there. She wondered…

Terry came out of the bathroom. She watched his every move as he packed an overnight bag and zipped it shut.

‘I’m sorry, Tel,’ she whispered.

But he walked out without a word.

‘Terry,’ she screamed after him. ‘Terry. Terry!’

CHAPTER TWELVE

On the last day of November and the final morning of her life, well over the downer of yesterday, Steph went to the city centre to do some shopping. Her phone was glued to her ear as she dashed across Stafford Street, heading for Powder and Perfume. She’d snapped off a nail last night when she and Terry had been fighting. But she needed to make up with Carole first. The problem was, Carole wasn’t making it easy for her.

‘Come on,’ Steph pleaded as she walked along the pavement. ‘I am sorry. Truly I am.’

‘You’re always sorry. Empty words, coming from you.’

Steph sighed. ‘You know how I get when I’ve had one too many.’

‘So what makes you think that I’d want to go out with you tonight? You’ll get pissed again and I’ll get insulted again.’

‘I’ll pay for it all.’

‘Yeah, right. As if that will tempt me.’

‘I will.’ Steph raised a hand in thanks at the driver who had stopped so that she could cross over Percy Street. ‘I’ll even treat you to a curry, if you fancy one.’ Silence on the phone. The doorbell tinkled as she entered the salon. ‘You still there, girl?’

‘Of course I’m still here.’

‘Well, what do you say? A night out, all expenses paid and a curry thrown in too. Terry will be over in Derby and even though he might make it back and you know I’d want him all to myself then, I’ll let you kip over at mine and bring you back in the morning. Save you forking out for a taxi.’

The silence was still there but a little shorter this time.

‘Okay.’

‘Great!’ Steph grinned, even though her friend couldn’t see it. ‘I’m having my nail refixed and I want to look for a pair of heels to go with that top I bought last week. I’ll ring you later, yeah?’

She disconnected the call before Carole had time to respond. Roberto, the salon’s owner, bustled over and dropped into the seat next to her.

‘Oh, will you look at the state of you,’ he cried out, touching her hair. ‘You are going to get these done today? Those roots are so no-no, darling.’

Roberto was slightly on the small side, but what he lacked in height he made up for with flamboyance. His clothes were loud, his jeans were tight and his tattoos colourful. People in the city waited weeks to see him, if they could get in at all due to his top-notch prices, but he’d always squeeze Steph in. Always make her feel like a million dollars, even if he couldn’t always make her look like a million dollars.

Self-consciously, Steph ran a hand over her hair. She’d looked at it this morning and thought the dark brown roots were showing a little too much. ‘I thought it might wait another week, Roberto? I’ve come in with a snagged nail.’

‘No, no, no!’ Roberto pulled her to her feet and clicked his fingers. ‘Clara. Clara! Miss Stephanie needs a-fixing.’

Steph smiled gratefully. At least she was treated with respect here!

As soon as she’d put down the phone, Carole dreaded telling Shaun of her plans. She knew he wouldn’t be too happy after yesterday’s fiasco. He’d had a right go at her once the taxi had taken their friends home, saying that she’d be a fool if she ever spoke to Steph again. But Steph was trying to make amends by offering to pay for her and she really could do with a night out, a night away from The Orange Grove. Living above the business had its disadvantages as well as its advantages.

She decided to wait for the last of the midday rush to go. Leaving Stacey, one of the waitresses, in the empty restaurant setting up the tables again, she went through to the kitchen. Shaun was getting things ready for the evening session, preparing salad vegetables and fresh dough for bread and pizza bases.