Taunting the Dead (DS Allie Shenton)

by Sherratt, Mel

  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.

  As the merriments went on around him, Terry only had eyes for Allie. It became so obvious that Mark threw quite a few sarcastic remarks over in his direction. So it was a relief when it was finally over and they could say their goodbyes. Before the band had belted out the first line of ‘Waterloo,’ Mark had marched off.

  ‘What’s up with him?’ Sharon asked Allie, oblivious to the atmosphere at the table. ‘He’s usually a good laugh. Did you two have a row before you came out tonight?’

  Allie smiled faintly at her and Nick. ‘Actually, we haven’t.’ She raised her glass in salute before knocking back the last of her drink. ‘But it looks like that will probably change before the night is out.’

  She said her goodbyes, all the time feeling Mark’s stare as he waited for her by the door. She’d hardly got to it as he pushed her out into the foyer.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he snapped.

  Allie’s feet were aching in her new shoes. She could hardly keep up with his pace but for the grip he had on her arm.

  ‘I could ask the same of you,’ she said through gritted teeth.

  ‘What do you mean? I wasn’t the one who was getting leered at.’

  ‘I wasn’t getting leered at. I told you. It was –’

  ‘I don’t know how you –’

  ‘Going so soon, Sergeant?’

  They turned swiftly to find Terry striding towards them. He held out his hand, first to Mark and then to Allie.

  She smiled as she met his eye. ‘Yes. Early start in the morning, I’m afraid. But it was a lovely evening. Thank you for the invitation.’

  Terry held onto her despite the glare he was getting from Mark. ‘And Mark, did you enjoy the evening too?’

  Mark turned on his charm as if he had an invisible button to do so. ‘Yes, it was an excellent event, thank you. I do hope the sponsor did a great job for you too.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Before he had finished the word, Terry’s eyes had already returned to Allie.

  ‘Can you order a taxi for me, please?’ Mark asked the receptionist.

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ Terry exclaimed. ‘I can give you a lift.’

  ‘Thanks, but we can get a –’

  ‘I won’t take no for an answer.’ Terry clicked his fingers at a guy sitting on t
he sofa engrossed in a Mark Billingham paperback. ‘You can use my car and driver.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Allie quietly.

  ‘Thanks again for coming and have a safe journey home.’ Once more, Terry’s eyes lingered on Allie before he burst into laughter. ‘You’d better have a safe journey home with my driver. If anything were to happen to you—now, that would be a crime!’

  Allie smiled and turned away quickly to follow Mark’s disappearing form.

  Mark had left the outside light on while they were out so that at least the house was welcoming on their return. Allie thanked the driver as he pulled up outside their home. She raised her eyes to the sky as Mark got out of the car before it was properly stopped. Watched him stride up the path, his shoulders hunched, ready for a fight.

  He left the front door open for her and continued through into the kitchen. Allie closed it quietly and reached down to her feet, slipping off her shoes. Sighing with relief, she walked through to him.

  Mark went to speak, then shook his head. He opened the fridge door.

  Allie was astonished. ‘Surely you’re not hungry after all that food?’

  ‘I could have choked on mine the way that Ryder was gawping at you.’ Mark pulled out a bottle of lager and slammed the door shut. ‘By the look on his face, he wanted you for his dessert. Laid out on the middle of our table. I was half expecting some waitress to appear with a bowl of strawberries and a can of squirty cream.’

  A delicious memory of her and Mark and a lazy Sunday afternoon came to Allie’s mind but she brushed it aside.

  ‘Don’t be daft, Mark.’ She sighed. ‘The man’s a charmer. He rakes money in for charity by being that way.’

  ‘His wife was a right bitch, too.’ Mark flicked off the bottle top. ‘God knows how much wine she knocked back. I suppose that came out of the charity pot as well!’

  Allie rubbed at her neck and sighed. ‘Let’s not do this now. It’s late. We’re both tired and we’ll end up saying things we regret.’

  ‘It was wrong, Allie. And you made me feel like you were his for the taking.’

  ‘I never did!’ Allie retorted. ‘You know my role. My boss was there too. I have to keep him sweet.’

  ‘He’s one of the biggest crooks in Stoke!’

  ‘We know that. That’s why we’re investigating him.’

  ‘Oh, right. And you’re doing that under his watchful fucking eye?’

  Allie sighed. Booze talk. ‘I’m going to bed now. Are you coming up or are you staying downstairs in a strop?’

  Mark glared at her. What was it with men tonight, giving her the eye? Terry Ryder’s flirtatious manner had nothing to do with her. She hadn’t been comfortable with his actions either. He could have been a little more discreet in company but she wasn’t going to let that spoil her night.

  ‘The guy’s a creep!’ she added. Although he does have the most amazing eyes. ‘And it wasn’t my fault that we had to sit at his table.’

  ‘Table?’ Mark balked. ‘I’m surprised he didn’t pull you into his lap!’

  Allie turned and left the room.

  ‘Grow up, Mark,’ she snapped. Then, before she realised how childish she was acting, she switched off the light and left him in the dark.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The next morning, Steph woke alone with yet another headache. She rummaged around underneath the mattress until she found the bottle of whiskey tucked away. Well, hey ho. Hair of the dog. She slugged back a massive swig and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. God, there was nothing that tasted quite so good.

  Her eyes focussed on the clock. Half past ten. She hadn’t even heard Terry get up. She wondered where he was as she pulled herself out of bed, back first, followed by lolling head.

  Shit, she felt rough. What the hell had gone on last night? Walking across the room like an extra from a zombie film, she negotiated the bathroom and flopped down onto the toilet. Every muscle in her body ached. As she ran a hand through luggy hair, she noticed the beginning of a bruise on her thigh. She prodded it. Ouch! Stupid cow, she chastised herself. It looked sore enough to hurt without testing it.

  What day was it? Tuesday? Wednesday? What the hell had she got up to get a bruise like that? She grimaced. More to the point, who would tell her what she had got up to? Because for the life of her, she couldn’t remember. She tried to cast her mind back.

  Had she visited Phil first thing or was that the day before? Either way she couldn’t recollect if they’d messed around or if she’d only called to pick up more booze. Oh, yes, it was coming back to her. He’d been in a mood because he’d taken a thumping off someone. Well, she’d sort out that when she next saw him.

  Steph got such a kick out of having an affair with Phil. On several occasions, she’d thrown herself at Shaun, Carole’s husband, but it had all been in vain. No matter how many times she’d cornered him, pressed her body close to his as she rubbed at his balls through his trousers and tried to kiss him, he hadn’t been persuaded to try out the rest. Still, his loss, she reckoned.

  Thinking of sex was making her horny and her head wasn’t up to it. She ran her hands over her face and then spotted her red dress, crumpled up in the corner of the bathroom. No doubt she’d left it where she’d struggled to get out of it before staggering to the bed and passing out last night. She groaned loudly. The Moathouse – last night, the charity event. Oh, God, she’d screwed up again.

  It all came tumbling back then: insulting the Mayor and his wife in front of their daughter and son-in-law; falling down on the dance floor and having to be hauled to her feet by Carole; cursing loudly when the deejay refused to play any more records because it was late. She remembered puking up in the car park. Oh, God, she remembered it all now. And wished that she hadn’t.

  Head in her hands, she started to cry, big fat wails of self-pity. Despite all the beauty treatments, even she knew she’d let herself go over the years as the drink took hold. Alcohol had turned out to be her closest friend. Even this early in the morning, she had to taste it. There was nothing like it for her, not even sex, as much as she liked that. It was all about the buzz, the confidence it gave her, the memories it blocked out. Yes, she craved it but she relished losing herself more. It was a never-ending circle. The life she led wasn’t worth being a part of on some days.

  Finally, after showering and dressing, she dragged herself downstairs. She opened the study door but the room was empty. Terry must have gone out earlier. Kirstie would be out at college, too. Thankfully, she had the house to herself.

  As ever, Terry’s desk was tidy, neither a scribble on the jotter pad nor a pen sitting on it. The chair was pushed under the desk just so. She ran a finger idly along its surface as she moved past it, relishing the silence in the house as her head pounded.

  Through the window she noted his car had gone and that, weather-wise, it was another depressing day. God, she hated winter. It would be December in three days, time to start thinking about Christmas again. Shivering slightly, she pulled her cardigan closer around her. Looking down, she spotted a single piece of paper crumpled up in the waste bin. She fished it out and straightened it on the desk. It was a yellow Post-It note. There weren’t many words written on it but it was certainly Terry’s handwriting.

  It read 20k – this Friday.

  Steph paused. There wasn’t anything she could deduce from that limited amount of information. She wondered how long it had been there. Twenty grand? What was that referring to? Could this Friday have been last week, meaning that’s why the note was in the bin? But Jeanie had cleaned in here earlier that week, surely? The only time she didn’t get into the room was when Terry was working in there and didn’t want to be disturbed.

  Through the open doorway, Steph jumped as she saw what looked like the figure of a man.

  ‘Oy, you!’ She peered around the door into the hallway but there was no one there. She paused. Was her mind playing tricks? No, she had definitely seen someone.

  Grabbing the baseb
all bat from behind the study door, she raised it high and barged into the family room. Lee Kennedy was on his knees but he stood up quickly. Kirstie, who was by his side, let out a shriek.

  Bat held high, Steph paused as she took in the scene before her. Lined up on the coffee table were two rows of cocaine, cut and ready to use. Lee had a rolled note in his hand. She watched him wipe evidence away from his nose.

  ‘You stupid bastard!’ she hurled at him.

  ‘Fucking hell, Mum!’ said Kirstie. ‘Put that down!’

  ‘What are you doing home today? You should be at college.’ Steph glared at Lee. ‘And what the fuck are you doing in my house? You’ve been told to stay away from her.’

  ‘No, I haven’t. Your old man told her to stay away from me. No one told me anything.’

  ‘He’s my boyfriend, Mum.’ Kirstie stood up and moved to his side. She took his hand. ‘Now, put down the fucking bat.’

  Steph frowned. Was Kirstie really going out with Lee? She searched her brain for clues. Memories. Anything to make sense of things. She remembered Terry going ballistic when he found out that she’d dated him and telling Kirstie to end it. But she’d just said that Lee was her boyfriend. If he was, then Terry must know about it. Which meant that she should know about it too. Jeez, her mind was well and truly mashed.

  Still hanging onto the bat, she shook her head as she spotted the lines again. No, Terry would never allow that. Not in his home. He might deal in drugs but they weren’t welcome here. And hadn’t Terry warned Phil, too, to keep his son away from Kirstie? So what the hell was he doing providing her with cocaine? In an instant, she blamed Lee for everything and charged towards him.

  ‘You sneaky bastard!’ The bat came down on top of the coffee table. The lacquered glass shattered, spraying tiny diamond particles into the air, a white puff appearing for a moment. Kirstie screamed as she moved away. With all her might, Steph pulled the bat up and, ignoring the particles digging into her bare feet, ran at Lee.

  Lee had seen some wild women in his time, but Steph Ryder was by far the craziest. No wonder Terry had turned on the mad bitch.