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Authors: Mel Sherratt

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #Police Procedural, #Traditional, #Romance, #Contemporary

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BOOK: Taunting the Dead
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The chill in his voice matched the foreboding she felt as he turned and walked away.

Steph rested her head on the worktop again, this time too stunned to move. That was the side of Terry that she didn’t like. Most of the time she had the put-up-with-Steph-no-matter-what-she-did Terry. Sometimes, like today, Terry showed a glimpse of the man behind the reputation.

But fuelled by the drink, complacency took over. Fuck him, she thought. He was always spouting off that he’d had enough of her, that he was going to do something about it if she didn’t buck her ideas up. Didn’t he realise that by now she knew they were empty threats?

He’d come around. He always did.

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

Allie fastened the strap on her shoe, stood upright and gave herself a final once-over in the full length mirror. Realising her sexual allure, she pouted before grinning, loving how the new dress made her feel. She went downstairs, putting out of her mind the thought that she was making so much more of an effort than she would normally do for such an occasion as this.

‘Wow, you look hot!’ Mark whistled his appreciation when he saw her. He took her hand and kissed it lightly, and then placed it on the bulge forming in his crotch. ‘You look that hot!’

Mark was wearing the black suit that she loved, thin lapels and trouser legs reminding her of the fashions when they’d first met. Along with it, he wore the lilac shirt she’d bought for him that morning, black tie fastened in a perfect knot.

‘You don’t look so bad yourself. The suit, I mean.’ Smiling, Allie pulled her hand away before walking off. But Mark pulled her into his arms.

‘You don’t expect me to waste it, do you?’ he complained.

‘You can keep it in your pants for now, Mister.’ Allie gave him a quick kiss. ‘I am not making a mess of my make-up purely to satisfy your needs.’

He slipped a hand up her skirt. ‘Dick tease.’

She slapped it away playfully. A horn beeped.

‘Saved by the hoot.’ She bit his bottom lip playfully. ‘But hold that thought for later. Come on.’

Following Mark out into the dark, she caught a whiff of his aftershave and, as he held open the car door, she recalled the night that they’d met. They’d been dancing around each other in Valentino’s nightclub, she with a group of her friends, he with a bunch of his. After a few up-tempo beats, the music had changed and a somewhat-worse-for-wear Mark had grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his arms. A few dances had turned into a few dates. A few dates had turned into a few more and their relationship had grown from strength to strength. Recently returned from university and not at all liking the fact that she was back at home with her parents, Allie had jumped at the chance to move in with Mark. He’d had a small terraced house in Green Street, not far from where she worked at the social services office. Life had been perfect for twenty-one-year-old Allie and not even what had happened to Karen had marred their relationship. If anything it had made it stronger, more reassuring and, well, right.

The Moathouse hotel was situated on the site of the former National Garden Festival Park, now a retail area for the city. Allie loved pulling up outside its grand entrance: it made her feel stupidly regal. And this time of year, both inside and out looked particularly special. A huge Christmas tree sparkled in the reception area, decorations blowing slightly as the doors opened to the outside every few moments.

The chatter of people out for a good time could be heard as Allie and Mark made their way through and into the reception venue. Christmas carols played in the background. Helium balloons bounced around like marionette puppets in the centre of every table, catching the eyes of some of the younger guests. A net attached to the ceiling was full of many more. Red table cloths draped to the floor over twelve round tables; white serviettes popped out of glasses, denoting the colours of the charity logo as well as their premier football team. At the back of the room, Signal 1, a local radio station, had set up their equipment on the raised area, ready to take over once the ABBA tribute band had performed.

Allie glanced around, then spotted a hand waving to get their attention.

‘There’s Nick,’ she said to Mark. ‘I’ll head over.’

‘Suppose I’d better find my team first.’ Mark worked for a major UK bank, one of several sponsors for tonight’s event. He’d been there for twenty-two years – since he’d left university – and for the last five years had been regional commercial manager. He gave her hand a quick squeeze. ‘I’ll catch you in ten.’

Allie slalomed through the tables to where Detective Inspector Nick Carter and his wife, Sharon, were seated. Wearing a navy blue suit with a pale grey stripe, Nick stood up to his full height of six foot three as she got to them. In his late forties, he was of medium build with the beginnings of middle-aged spread, with blonde hair thinning slightly at the hairline. He wore a genuine smile that reached his hazel eyes as he leaned towards her slightly.

‘I made sure we were put on Ryder’s table,’ he whispered. ‘You never know: one of these days, he might please us and slip up.’

‘Yeah, right, and all our Christmases will come at once,’ said Allie wryly. She turned to his wife. ‘You look gorgeous, Sharon. Good holiday?’

While Sharon enlightened Allie about the delights of Hawaii, more and more people came into the room and soon the sound of chatter was heard above the music. Mark joined them minutes later.

‘I see we’ve been put on the naughty table.’ He shook hands with Nick before pulling out a chair. ‘To what do we owe this displeasure?’

Before anyone had a chance to say anything, a ripple of applause started and guests began to stand as it reached them. Allie got to her feet but she didn’t clap. Mark did. Hypocrite, she mouthed at him.

Terry and Steph Ryder stepped into the ballroom as if the toastmaster had announced the arrival of a bride and groom. A frisson of heat passed through Allie as she caught a glimpse of Terry in his black dinner suit, the cut giving away its expensive price. The white scarf hung strategically around his neck finished off the look of cool. For many of the people present, she was sure he lit up the room far more than his wife.

Steph Ryder, gripping onto her husband’s arm, wore a red floor-length dress, the provocatively high side split revealing tanned and toned legs – Allie spied the black strappy shoes and made a note to compliment Mary Francis if they had been her choice. Over the strapless, sequinned bodice Steph wore a white fur shrug, matching gloves completing the perfect Christmas outfit.

‘Good evening, everyone,’ Terry greeted as he glided over with his wife. As introductions were made, a couple rushing in behind them scurried to their seats, the woman stopping to give Steph a quick kiss before checking place settings and plonking herself down.

‘Sorry we’re late.’ She held a hand to her chest as she caught her breath. ‘Haven’t missed anything, have we?’

‘Only our grand entrance,’ Steph replied stonily before sitting down across the table from Allie.

Allie frowned slightly at Steph’s tone. She couldn’t believe it when Terry introduced the late couple as close friends. She watched as the woman, Carole Morrison, lowered her eyes and fussed in her handbag. She was plump with brown hair, deep red lipstick looking bold but striking teamed with the short, black dress she was wearing. Her husband, Shaun, looking uncomfortable in his suit, sat with a thump. His fair hair was still wet at the collar and he wore a scowl. Allie caught his eye and he gave her a nearly-there smile.
Great
, she thought,
someone who doesn’t want to be here. That’ll make for a lively atmosphere
.

The small talk associated with that kind of occasion started.

‘I asked to sit next to you, Detective Sergeant,’ Terry addressed the table once the starters had been served.

Allie nearly choked on her goat’s cheese and cranberry parcel starter. She glanced over at Nick, who raised his eyebrows discreetly.

‘Yes, I was curious to meet the member of Nick’s team who caught the nasty bastard who beat and stabbed his wife to death in one of my properties.’

‘It was a team effort, Mr Ryder,’ Allie assured him. She took a granary roll from the wicker basket in front of them and broke it in two.

‘It was nothing of the sort.’ Terry turned his head towards her and smiled, his eyes seeming to drink in her beauty for far longer than was appropriate. ‘A team is only as good as its leader. And, please,’ he ran a finger along her forearm, ‘call me Terry. “Mister Ryder” is far too formal.’

‘But Nick is my superior,’ Allie replied. ‘And this is a formal occasion.’

Terry’s laughter rang around the room. One or two people looked over in their direction. ‘But you’re off duty now, surely?’ He picked up her glass and refilled it with wine. ‘Unless you’re one of those officers who are never off duty? Anyone else need a refill?’

Allie felt as though she had been chastised in the most delightful of ways. She gulped a mouthful of wine as Terry stood up to pour. Mark coughed. She caught his eye, instantly noticing his discomfort. But there were also heated glares coming from Mrs Ryder. Allie continued with her food, grateful that they were all eating so that the conversation would be short.

But Terry continued after he was seated again. ‘Dreadful business.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t believe it happened in Georgia Road. It goes to show that no matter how hard you vet tenants you can often miss some important details. To think that I housed a murderer… Well, it shocks me. Saddens me, too.’

Allie swore inwardly as she listened intently to his speech. She felt like clapping her hands afterwards. It sounded like every word had been rehearsed. She just couldn’t work out why he was doing it for their benefit. He knew as well as she did what the police force thought of him, despite hiding behind a charity bearing his name that offered treats to vulnerable people.

‘It was quite nasty, by all accounts,’ Carole added to the conversation.

‘I believe so,’ said Nick. ‘I was on holiday when it happened.’

‘Maybe she had something to do with it, though. They say there’s no smoke without fire.’

‘Carole!’ Steph cried. ‘How could you say that someone deserves to be murdered? You always have to lower the tone, don’t you?’

‘I didn’t mean to.’ Carole put down her cutlery. ‘I think there are two sides to every –’

‘If you can’t say anything interesting, then zip it.’

‘Do you always have to be nasty to my wife?’ said Shaun. It was the first time he’d spoken since they’d arrived. ‘You could do with zipping it for a change.’

Steph huffed. ‘I was only saying –’

‘Well, don’t.’

‘Children,’ said Terry, his warning tone evident.

‘Do you always have to show me up?’ Carole snapped at Shaun, a blush rising from her chest.

Allie and Mark exchanged glances as an uncomfortable silence descended.

‘I hope he gets what he deserves in prison.’ Steph seemed determined to get in the last word. ‘She must have been in some pain during that attack. And,’ she turned to Terry as she picked up the wine bottle after knocking back in one what he’d just poured, ‘despite my husband’s praise …’ She then turned to Allie with a look of pure poison. ‘…how long was that sort of thing going on that you lot should have dealt with, rather than let a so-called domestic get out of hand?’

At the mention of pain, Allie paled. She looked down at her plate, trying to calm her breathing as Karen’s battered face swam before her eyes. She’d been fifteen minutes late – that’s all.

‘I’m sure we did everything we could, Mrs Ryder.’ Nick sensed Allie’s discomfort and tried to take the heat off her. ‘Sometimes we offer help and get it flatly refused. These things are always easier to blame on the police. But sometimes we have to walk away and, unfortunately –’

‘Some sick fuck murders his wife.’ Steph filled her glass again. ‘Yeah, I get it.’

But Terry took it from her. ‘That’s enough for now, my love.’ He smiled sweetly at his wife. ‘We don’t need talk of doom and gloom on a night when we should be celebrating.’ He stood up, threw his napkin onto the table and rubbed his hands together in excitement. ‘Talking of which, let’s get some pockets emptied before they serve the main course.’

Spying a chance to escape, Allie excused herself and headed for the sanctuary of the ladies’ toilets. Once in there, her breathing became laboured and she tried to calm the panic.
Pain
. One word. That was all it took, and it felt like yesterday that she’d learnt the terrible fate of her sister. Karen had been twenty-five, four years older than her, when she’d been raped, beaten and left for dead one winter evening. Her attacker had never been caught and even though she’d known it wasn’t her fault, Allie still carried the guilt round with her. It was hard not to. Even after fourteen years.

After a few minutes, she pulled herself together and emerged into the corridor to find Mark seated on a leather couch. His look of anxiety had her eyes filling up again. She dropped down next to him.

‘Are you okay?’ he touched her arm gently.

She smiled, thankful for his concern. ‘Yes, I’m good.’

‘Do you want to go home?’

Allie knew how important this event was for Mark’s employers. There was no way she would slope off due to the taunts of a drunken woman. And besides, Mark had made it perfectly clear over the years that the career she’d chosen would always bring back memories. He’d said so during many a heated discussion.

She shook her head. ‘No, we’ll stick it to the end.’

‘Are you sure?’ Mark kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose. ‘Because I’m happy to leave. That Ryder bloke is getting my back up. He can’t keep his eyes off you.’

Allie gently squeezed his thigh. ‘It’s business chat, that’s all.’

‘Yes, but –’

Allie pressed a finger to his lips.

The rest of the evening went as uneventfully as it could, seeing as one of the hosts became more inebriated and could hardly stand by ten o’clock. Steph held onto her husband for dear life as first the auction was held and then the raffle was drawn. After the main course came the awards for the year’s best fund-raisers and then a few tear-jerking awards to children of courage. Finally, after a dessert of champagne ice cream or Christmas pudding, the formal part of the evening was brought to an end with a round of applause for the Ryders, a huge bouquet of Christmas flowers for Mrs Ryder and an explosion of applause to make ears ring as the balloons were released.

BOOK: Taunting the Dead
10.17Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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