Revenge Killing E-Book

Leigh Russell

• Herausgeber: No Exit Press
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: None
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 431

Beschreibung

THE NEW NOVEL FROM ONE OF THE UK'S FAVOURITE CRIME WRITERS WITH OVER 1.5 MILLION COPIES SOLD. Readers can't get enough of Geraldine Steel: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 'Cannot recommend this series enough' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 'A cracking series!' ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 'The Geraldine Steel series just gets better and better' A man is found dead, lying at the bottom of the stairs to his flat, his body blocking the door of the elderly woman who lives downstairs. The worried landlord who finds the body seeks advice from his friend's wife - now Detective Inspector Ariadne Moralis. Something in his demeanour hints at a hidden secret. When it becomes apparent that the body has been moved, it is clear the man's death was not an accident. With only an elderly witness who seems hesitant to disclose all she heard unless the price is right, and a key suspect on the run having fled the scene, Ariadne finds herself grasping at straws. DNA evidence supports the witness's claims that the victim had two girlfriends, Carly is unwilling to cooperate. Lauren is missing. The motive remains unclear, and the case becomes a confounding maze of unanswered questions, pushing Ariadne to her limits. Meanwhile, Geraldine Steel, adjusting to the routine of new motherhood, longs for the thrill of being at the centre of an investigation. As the body count grows, and every lead seems to turn out to be a dead end, the case quickly throws up more questions than answers, and Ariadne is rapidly out of her depth. Can her friend Geraldine Steel help her uncover the truth?

Leseprobe

CRITICAL ACCLAIM FOR LEIGH RUSSELL

‘A million readers can’t be wrong! Clear some time in your day, sit back and enjoy a bloody good read’ Howard Linskey

‘Taut and compelling’ Peter James

‘Leigh Russell is one to watch’ Lee Child

‘Leigh Russell has become one of the most impressively dependable purveyors of the English police procedural’ Times

‘DI Geraldine Steel is one of the most authoritative female coppers in a crowded field’ Financial Times

‘A brilliant talent in the thriller field’ Jeffery Deaver

‘Brilliant and chilling, Leigh Russell delivers a cracker of a read!’ Martina Cole

‘A great plot that keeps you guessing right until the very end, some subtle subplots, brilliant characters both old and new and as ever a completely gripping read’ Life of Crime

‘The latest police procedural from prolific novelist Leigh Russell is as good and gripping as anything she has published’ Times & Sunday Times Crime Club

‘A fascinating gripping read. The many twists kept me on my toes and second guessing myself’ Over The Rainbow Book Blog

‘Well-paced with marvellously well-rounded characters and a clever plot that make this another thriller of a read from Leigh Russell’ Orlando Books

‘A well-written, fast-paced and very enjoyable thriller’ The Book Lovers Boudoir

‘An edge-of-your-seat thriller that will keep you guessing’ Honest Mam Reader

‘Well-paced, has red herrings and twists galore, keeps your attention and sucks you right into its pages’ Books by Bindu

‘5 stars!! Another super addition to one of my favourite series, which remains as engrossing and fresh as ever!’ The Word is Out

‘A nerve-twisting tour de force that will leave readers on the edge of their seats, Leigh Russell’s latest Detective Geraldine Steel thriller is a terrifying page-turner by this superb crime writer’ Bookish Jottings

‘An absolute delight’ The Literary Shed

‘I simply couldn’t put it down’ Shell Baker, Chelle’s Book Reviews

‘If you love a good action-packed crime novel, full of complex characters and unexpected twists, this is one for you’ Rachel Emms, Chillers, Killers and Thrillers

‘All the things a mystery should be: intriguing, enthralling, tense and utterly absorbing’ Best Crime Books

‘A series that can rival other major crime writers out there…’ Best Books to Read

‘Sharp, intelligent and well-plotted’ Crime Fiction Lover

‘Another corker of a book from Leigh Russell… Russell’s talent for writing top-quality crime fiction just keeps on growing’ Euro Crime

‘A definite must-read for crime thriller fans everywhere’ Newbooks Magazine

‘Russell’s strength as a writer is her ability to portray believable characters’ Crime Squad

‘A well-written, well-plotted crime novel with fantastic pace and lots of intrigue’ Bookersatz

‘An encounter that will take readers into the darkest recesses of the human psyche’ Crime Time

‘Well-written and chock full of surprises, this hard-hitting, edge-of-the-seat instalment is yet another treat… Geraldine Steel looks set to become a household name. Highly recommended’ Euro Crime

‘Good, old-fashioned, heart-hammering police thriller… a no-frills delivery of pure excitement’ SAGA Magazine

‘A gritty and totally addictive novel’ New York Journal of Books

To Michael, Joanna, Phillipa, Phil, Rian and Kezia.

With my love.

Glossary of Acronyms

DCI – Detective Chief Inspector (senior officer on case)

DI – Detective Inspector

DS – Detective Sergeant

SOCO – scene of crime officer (collects forensic evidence at scene)

PM – Post Mortem or Autopsy (examination of dead body to establish cause of death)

CCTV – Closed Circuit Television (security cameras)

VIIDO – Visual Images, Identification and Detections Office

MIT – Murder Investigation Team

1

Lauren was on her way out to buy cigarettes when the tenant who lived on the ground floor peered out and beckoned her with a gnarled finger. Mentally rehearsing her refusal to help the old woman with her shopping, Lauren hesitated at the foot of the steep staircase.

‘You must be hearing things,’ she replied, when the old woman paused to take in a wheezy breath. ‘Probably the TV.’

‘Don’t give me that. I may be getting on, but I’m no fool. She’s up there every week. I’ve seen her on the stairs, always the same one. She stays all night, and I know what she’s doing up there. They think I don’t hear them fornicating.’ The old woman’s eyes gleamed with malice as she spat the word. ‘You tell him I know what he’s doing up there with his drug peddling and his women. The Lord will mete out His punishment. And you’re no better.’

Lauren turned her back on the old crone and clattered upstairs to confront Jay.

‘I knew it! You’re seeing another woman!’ she screeched, without even stopping to take off her coat. ‘Who is she? Don’t lie to me! The old bag downstairs just told me about her, so you can’t deny it. As soon as my back’s turned, you’ve got someone else up here. And don’t tell me this was just one of your mates scoring some dope, because I know she stays here all night.’

‘You listened to that old fishwife?’ Jay replied, raising his eyebrows in surprise. ‘You can’t believe a word she says. She’s batty as a fruitcake. Are you telling me you trust her word against mine?’ He spoke lightly, but his eyes blazed with fury. ‘That old bitch has got it in for me. She goes out of her way to stir up trouble for me. I’ve warned her before to stop all this spiteful nonsense. Why on earth would you listen to her?’

Lauren wasn’t convinced by his protestations. ‘Why would she lie about it?’

Jay turned away, dismissing the accusation with a casual shrug. ‘How should I know? She makes shit up. I’ve told her what I’ll do to her if she carries on causing me problems.’

It really was the final straw as far as Lauren was concerned. Six months had passed since she and Jay first got together, and she was keen to move in with him. Apart from any other consideration, it was unnecessary for them both to be paying rent. Although she liked living with her flatmate, Natalie, she only had a small room to herself in their shared flat, while Jay had a self-contained apartment all to himself on the first floor of a house. There was easily enough room there for two people, so it was obvious she should move in with him, but he seemed content to live on his own, paying his rent all by himself. As long as he had enough left over for food, beer, cigarettes and drugs, he had told her that was all he needed. Much as he loved having her stay with him every Saturday, he said that during the week it suited him for her to sleep at her own place.

‘You’re missing the point,’ she had protested. ‘We could be together every night. Then she wouldn’t be able to make stuff up about other women.’

Monday to Friday she was up and out before he needed to wake up, he had told her, and in any case, some of his punters didn’t want to be seen by anyone else. It made them twitchy, and that was bad for business. She knew Jay faced increasing competition from the growing number of drug dealers in the city, so had decided not to insist, telling herself he would come round eventually if she was patient. She had been prepared to wait, but now his neighbour had put her straight about the other woman who regularly spent the night with him during the week.

‘Stop going on about it,’ Jay snapped, waving his hand around. ‘And where are my cigarettes?’ A scowl twisted his good-looking features. Then his expression softened, and he spoke in a wheedling tone. ‘You can see for yourself there’s no one else here. You know I have people coming and going all the time, but no one else stays here, only you.’

‘No one in their right mind would want to spend time in this stinking dump,’ she retorted under her breath.

Vexed, she pushed a dirty plate off the arm of the sofa. It landed upside down, scattering greasy crumbs on the carpet. She should have noticed the signs: a red flush spreading across his cheeks, the flaring of his nostrils, but she was too upset to hold back.

‘I’m sick of the way you treat me,’ she snapped. ‘You can sit there feeling smug, thinking you’re getting away with it, but I won’t put up with it any more. I won’t be cheated on, and I won’t be treated like one of your whores. You need to start treating me with respect, or…’

‘Or what?’ he asked her, leaning back in his chair.

His lips curled, but he clenched his right fist and started beating a tattoo on the arm of his chair with the fingers of his other hand, while his gaze never left her face.

‘Or you can sling your hook,’ she replied, daring him to retaliate.

‘What are you talking about? You can’t throw me out of my own flat.’ His bark of laughter further infuriated her.

‘Very well then, I’ll leave, shall I? You think I’m joking? Well, I’ve got news for you, because I’m not staying here another minute.’ She bit her lip, realising she was breaking up with him, but she was too angry to stop. ‘I don’t know whatever made me think you were worth it. You’re just a jumped up pathetic little backstreet drug pusher. You think you’re some big shot drug baron but you’re nothing. Even the police can’t be bothered to arrest you. That’s how insignificant you are.’

He had never raised his hand against her before, and she had refused to believe he ever would. His muckraking neighbour had passed on a rumour that Jay had put his last girlfriend in hospital; had she not been too scared to press charges, he would probably have served time. But Jay had persuaded Lauren that he had never really cared about his former girlfriend, who had been shallow and self-centred. He had painted so monstrous a picture of her that Lauren had ended up convinced that, far from being abusive, Jay was a saint for having put up with her for so long.

‘It wasn’t entirely her fault,’ he had explained, with a sad smile that made him look positively cherubic, with his blue eyes and turned-up nose. ‘She couldn’t help herself. She was insanely jealous. It’s completely different this time. With you, it feels right.’

To begin with, Lauren had loved him for the understanding he had shown his neurotic ex-girlfriend. Only gradually had she had come to suspect that he was not as thoughtful as he claimed. Still, there had probably been some truth in what he told her. It might have been drugs that had made his ex so dependent on him, and dope could make people paranoid. She wondered if that was happening to her. Her flatmate had formed a different opinion of Jay. As soon as she met him, she had told Lauren in no uncertain terms that Jay was a narcissist.

‘You don’t even know him,’ Lauren had protested. ‘You’ve only met him once.’

‘Once was enough to see what he’s like,’ Natalie had replied. ‘He’s bad news.’

Lauren had ignored Natalie, defending Jay until her flatmate gave up and stopped talking about him. Now, with her cheek stinging from Jay’s slap, Lauren realised she had been naïve to dismiss her friend’s warning so hastily. Seeing his expression, she felt faintly sick. Far from apologetic, Jay seemed excited, as though he found hitting her exhilarating.

‘I’m leaving,’ she said, forcing herself to speak calmly.

Her words sounded oddly hollow, as though someone else was speaking, and she realised her legs were trembling. Before she could move, Jay pushed past her and went to stand in the doorway, blocking her exit.

‘Get out of my way, right now. I mean it.’ In spite of her determination to retain control of the situation, her voice rose as fear overwhelmed her anger.

Stepping forward, she attempted to squeeze past him. Suddenly, she was spinning round, his arm pressing against her throat. Choking, she lashed out in a panic, kicking at his legs and scrabbling to grab hold of his arm, desperate to force him to relax his grip, but he was too strong for her. After a moment, she hung limp in his grasp, waiting for an opportunity to free herself.

‘You think you can walk out on me, you tramp?’ he muttered between clenched teeth. ‘You think you can just walk away? No one does that to me. No one.’ With each iteration he jerked his arm viciously, ramming it against her throat, making her gag.

The edge of his other palm struck her chin as he clamped a hand across her mouth. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him panting, his fury almost palpable.

‘How about if I throw you out, see how you like that,’ he hissed in her ear.

He dragged her through the door. She began kicking and scratching at his arms again, although she could hardly breathe, while his hand muffled her screams of protest. She was still struggling, afraid he was going to choke her to death, when they reached the top of the stairs. Frantic with terror, she deliberately stamped her pointed heel down on his foot. He let out a yelp of pain and released his hold on her neck, losing his balance. He reached for the banister with one flailing hand, enabling her to squirm out of his violent embrace. She fell face down on the floor. The carpet felt scratchy against her cheek, and it stank of cigarettes and stale beer.

As if from a vast distance, she heard him cry out several times as he tumbled down the stairs. Before he reached the bottom, there was a horrible thump and then he was silent. Shocked, she scrambled to her feet and staggered back to the flat to grab her coat and bag, before stumbling after him, clinging to the banister, her legs shaking. He was lying motionless at the foot of the stairs. As if in a dream, she leaned over the mound of his body, terrified he would reach out and grab her. Breath rasped in his throat, but he didn’t move. All she could think was that she had to get away from there. As she stepped over him, his eyelids flickered and his hand twitched. Stifling a scream, she staggered away down the hall. Just before she slammed the front door behind her, she thought she heard his voice call out her name.

She stepped out into an overcast world of grey rain. A car sped past, drenching her legs with the splash from a large puddle at the kerbside. Without looking back, she made her way to the bus stop. A large woman waiting there gave her a wary smile. Lauren turned away. A man strode past, his coat collar turned up against the rain. Still in a daze, she gazed back along the glistening street, wondering if Jay had recovered from his fall, and whether he would come after her. She began to cry, but no one noticed her tears mingling with the rain on her cheeks. If anyone had realised she was crying, they would probably have assumed she was pissed.

Hours seemed to pass before the bus drew up. Even though it was stationary when she boarded, she clung to the rail and the backs of the seats, afraid her legs would give way. The large woman from the bus stop nodded at her with a cheery grin as she passed. Lauren whipped her gaze away as though she had been stung. Staring at rain sliding down the window she shuddered. In her mind she could hear Jay’s voice calling out to her from the foot of the stairs and wondered if he would remember how she had fled, leaving him lying there alone. But it was too late to go back and, in any case, she reminded herself fiercely that she never wanted to see him again.

2

Worn out and ready to put her feet up, Ariadne pulled into her drive. Although it was technically still autumn, the evenings were drawing in and there was a feeling of approaching winter in the air, heralded by more than just a drop in temperature. The sky was tinged with grey, and recent heavy showers had aided the gusty weather in stripping the trees of their last lingering leaves. Regretting having left her gloves at home that morning, she hurried from the car to the house. She was ravenous, and hoped her husband would have dinner in the oven. All she wanted to do was eat, slump in front of the telly for a couple of hours, and fall into bed.

As she was hanging up her jacket, she heard voices in the living room. Having released her shoulder-length black hair from its elasticated band, she glanced in the mirror before going in to find Nico talking to a man he introduced as Yiannis. Even before she heard his name, Ariadne guessed their guest was Greek, like her husband. With the same black hair and olive complexion, seeing them from behind the two men could have been brothers. Only when they stood up and turned to face her, did she see how different they were. While Nico was slender with delicate features, the stranger had thick, tufty brows which overhung his dark eyes set in a fleshy countenance and, although short, he was stocky. He looked older than Nico, who was forty. Stifling a yawn, she greeted the stranger politely.

‘Yiannis needs some help,’ Nico said as he gestured at their visitor to sit down again. ‘It’s more your area than mine,’ he added apologetically.

Ariadne hesitated. She guessed Yiannis wanted her advice in her professional capacity, but if this was a matter for the police, he should really be following official procedure, not approaching her privately. That her husband expected her to help his friend was typical of Nico. His reluctance to turn down a request for assistance had landed him in trouble more than once. It both irritated her and, at the same time, was one of the reasons she loved him. As a detective inspector working in serious crime, she spent her working life investigating the consequences of the darker side of human nature. If only more people shared her husband’s generosity of spirit towards his fellow man, the world would be a better place.

With a sigh, she settled on the sofa, and asked Yiannis what she could do for him. At least she would hear him out before sending him to the police station or, if necessary, escorting him there herself. Nico left the room to make coffee, and she heard him tinkering about in the kitchen.

‘I own a house in Penley’s Grove Street,’ Yiannis began, leaning forward in his chair and gazing earnestly at her. ‘This house is divided into two maisonettes, and both are let to tenants. This morning I received a call from one of my tenants, an elderly lady who lives on the ground floor. She said she had heard a noise outside her door, and when she opened it she saw her neighbour lying in the hall. She didn’t know what to do, and so she called me.’

He paused and Ariadne waited, stifling a yawn. This sounded like the preamble to a dispute between neighbours. She began mentally rehearsing how to extricate herself from Yiannis’s problem as courteously as possible.

‘She complained that he wasn’t moving, and she was afraid to go out,’ Yiannis explained earnestly.

‘I understand that’s a problem,’ Ariadne said. ‘But I’m not sure what you want me to do about it. Had her neighbour fallen down the stairs?’

Yiannis paused as Nico entered the room carrying a tray of coffee. Nico raised his eyebrows in silent enquiry.

‘I’m getting to it,’ Yiannis said, before turning to face Ariadne again. ‘I went there straightaway to see what the problem was. And there was a body.’

Ariadne wasn’t sure she understood. Too tired to remonstrate, she accepted a cup of strong Greek coffee even though it was early evening and she knew it would probably keep her awake that night. Biting back the temptation to say she had no idea what Yiannis was talking about, she asked him to be more specific about what he had found.

‘There was a body,’ Yiannis repeated, and she noticed his voice trembled slightly. ‘It was my other tenant, who lived on the first floor. He was lying at the foot of the stairs.’

Ariadne took a gulp of coffee which burned her tongue. ‘You said “a body”… ’

‘I called for an ambulance at once,’ Yiannis continued, speaking rapidly now, as though keen to reach the end of his account. ‘He never stirred, and when the paramedics arrived, they told me he was dead. I was worried he could have been saved, if I’d known what to do, but I was afraid to touch him in case I injured him further. But they told me my tenant had been dead for some time. Before I arrived he was dead. He had – how do you say it? – mortis of the body. There was no doubt about it. He was dead.’ He shuddered. ‘The paramedics called the police, who took the body away. But now I have to go to the police station even though I have done nothing wrong. Nothing! So I came straight here to ask Nico if you would help me. He told me once that you have influence at the police station. He is so proud of you.’ He hesitated, his face suddenly pale, before adding in a low voice, ‘I do not want to go to the police station.’

Ariadne had only recently been promoted to the rank of acting detective inspector, and was gratified to hear that Nico was proud of her work. But she couldn’t assist Nico’s friend in an independent capacity.

‘Yiannis, I’m afraid you have no choice. You will need to present yourself at the police station to make a statement. There’s no need to worry,’ she added kindly, seeing his stricken expression, ‘you’re a witness, that’s all. The likelihood is that your tenant collapsed and died from natural causes – a heart attack or a stroke, something like that. Was he elderly?’

‘He was a young man, a man in his prime,’ Yiannis replied miserably. He hesitated before adding, ‘I was told he took drugs, but I had no way of knowing if that was true. I saw no sign of it myself. If I had known, I would have thrown him out. I don’t want any trouble.’

‘What made you think he was taking drugs?’ Ariadne asked.

‘Not serious drugs,’ he replied quickly, with an anxious grimace. ‘There was no mention of serious drugs. And it probably wasn’t true. The old woman on the ground floor told me he was selling drugs. She said disreputable visitors came and went at all hours, disturbing her. But she was always complaining to me, about many things, and I took no notice of her. As far as I was concerned he was a good tenant. He paid his rent, and what he did in private was not my business. If he was doing anything illegal, I knew nothing about it. I only heard rumours from a confused old woman. It had nothing to do with me. I don’t want any trouble,’ he repeated.

‘I’m sure you won’t be convicted for running a drug ring,’ Nico said, smiling. ‘You can’t know everything your tenant was doing.’ He nodded at Ariadne, asking her to confirm that was the case.

‘But why must I go to the police station?’ Yiannis cried out, his composure breaking down. ‘What do they want with me?’

‘Presumably they just want a statement confirming he fell down the stairs,’ Nico replied. ‘It sounds like his death was an accident. You’ve got nothing to worry about.’

Ariadne acknowledged her husband’s words with a smile of her own. ‘I’m very sorry about the circumstances,’ she went on, ‘but there’s really nothing to be afraid of.’

As she spoke, her phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, she saw that her former colleague, Geraldine, was calling. Making a mental note to call her back once Yiannis had gone, she ended the call.

‘I do not want to talk the police,’ Yiannis muttered.

Questioning him, Ariadne learned that he had left an unpaid debt behind when he left Greece, some years earlier. Wary of running into his creditor, he had not been back since. She assured him the detectives investigating a possibly suspicious death would not be interested in his bad debts. But she had a feeling he might be concealing the true reason he had left Greece all those years ago, and had never been back. It wasn’t until she was setting her alarm for the morning that she noticed the missed call from her friend, and remembered she had forgotten to call Geraldine back. Resolved to contact her the next day, she went to bed and fell into an uneasy dream where she fled Greece after being chased by a white rabbit called Geraldine. ‘You could have waited for me,’ the rabbit grumbled, crouching in her boat as she rowed towards the open sea.

‘Don’t let me drink coffee in the evening again,’ she complained to Nico the next morning.

He smiled and kissed her on the nose. ‘When have I ever been able to stop you doing anything?’ he asked.

3

The baby was crying again. Reluctantly, Geraldine hauled herself off the sofa where she had been dozing and made her way into the bedroom. Tom lay in his cot, his face red with the effort of yelling, his fat little arms reaching up with clenched fists, as though ready to take a swipe at whoever answered his imperious summons. The strength of his anger was almost palpable, giving her a faint sense of dread that she would be unable to calm him, but he settled down to feed almost at once. She savoured her relief, resigned to the fact that the anticipated rush of maternal rapture had so far seemed to elude her. She had tried to explain to her sister that her enjoyment of motherhood was still tentative.

‘I’m sure your maternal feelings will come,’ Celia had assured her, complacent in her own mothering skills. ‘Just be patient. You’re probably still exhausted.’

Geraldine had felt relatively confident when Celia had visited her, but now she was alone again with a tiny creature utterly dependent on her for his survival. At times she was afraid the magnitude of her new responsibility would overwhelm her. Never before had she concealed her feelings from her life partner, but she had been unable to share her struggle with anyone, least of all with Ian who wanted only to hear that she loved being at home with Tom. She couldn’t bear to disappoint him. Working as a detective inspector in serious crime, Geraldine had never before experienced this constant nagging self-doubt. A murder investigation gave her defined goals and objectives, and required a logical thought process in which emotion played no part. She was not used to feeling helpless with a dizzying love that seemed to tear her away from her own personality. Added to her emotional turmoil was her piercing guilt at feeling bored, spending her waking hours with one tiny person who did nothing but cry and feed.

There had been heavy showers on and off all the previous day. Every time she had decided to go out for a walk to clear her head, there had been another downpour, and now it was raining again. Had she had only herself to think about, she would have put on a waterproof coat and gone out without hesitation. Tom had been grizzly all day and she knew they would probably both feel better for a change of scene, but somehow she didn’t have the energy to get herself and the baby dressed to brave the rain. She could take the car, but where was there to go? Her sisters both lived miles away, and her local friends had all been colleagues at the police station in York. Ian had urged her to take Tom along to the police station to show everyone, but really, what was the point? Under pressure at work, they would have no time to socialise. They would tell her what a fine-looking baby Tom was, before turning back to their work, leaving her excluded from the camaraderie of the police team. She missed that aspect of her work so much it was like a physical pain in her guts. Never alone now, day or night, she had never felt more isolated.

Ian was home late. Unapologetic, he told her that he had stopped for a beer with a few of his colleagues.

‘You know how it is,’ he said cheerily. ‘One thing leads to another. I kept meaning to leave and then someone else got in a round.’ He laughed, a man at ease with life.

Geraldine smiled, genuinely happy for him. Just because she was stuck at home with a baby was no reason for Ian to feel similarly trapped.

‘How was your day?’ he asked, peering at her.

‘Oh, fine,’ she lied. ‘He’s growing all the time,’ she added, more for something to say than because she actually thought the baby was significantly bigger than he had been the previous day, or the day before that.

‘Yes, he looks healthy,’ Ian agreed.

He took Tom from her and the baby gurgled with pleasure as Ian swung him up in the air. Geraldine remonstrated feebly to him to be careful, trying not to feel peeved that Tom seemed so much happier when Ian took him than he ever was when she picked him up. At the same time, she was relieved to hand the baby over. Perhaps for an hour or two she might be able to forget about her responsibilities and relax. Running a team of fellow detectives investigating a murder had never seemed as challenging as taking care of one tiny, helpless human being.

‘So, what’s to eat?’ Ian asked.

With a sinking feeling, Geraldine realised she hadn’t prepared anything for supper.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I fell asleep this afternoon. I’ve been so tired today. I completely forgot, and then I didn’t want to take Tom out in the rain, and then he fell asleep,’ she added, feeling as though she was back at school, offering a string of excuses for failing to hand in her homework.

Humiliated and confused, she felt tears gather in her eyes, but Ian was looking at Tom and didn’t notice.

‘Not to worry,’ he said breezily. ‘I’ll get us a takeaway. What do you fancy?’

She shrugged without looking up, unable to trust herself to speak in case her voice betrayed her emotion. She had been at home all day, with nothing to do but feed and change the baby, and she hadn’t even thought to prepare dinner for Ian when he arrived home after a day at work. Tom was over five months old and sleeping through the night so she could no longer claim she was recuperating from the birth, difficult though that had been. Meanwhile Ian insisted on telling her what a wonderful job she was doing as a mother. She wanted to shout at him that she wasn’t a wonderful mother at all, that she hated being stuck at home with the baby, and all she wanted to do was return to work and have her old life back. But Tom had come along, and her identity had changed into something glorious and terrifying. She was a mother and would be for the rest of her life. There was no going back. Geraldine had long ago come to terms with her own biological mother giving her up for adoption. A dysfunctional alcoholic who had given birth to twins, it was understandable that she had been unable to cope. Geraldine’s own situation was completely different. But in her darkest moments, she wondered whether she had inherited some flaw that would make her an unsuitable mother.

‘How about fish and chips?’ Ian asked.

Geraldine nodded. ‘That would be lovely,’ she muttered, grateful that he hadn’t seemed to mind her thoughtlessness, yet irrationally annoyed by his carefree attitude.

Although she wasn’t hungry, she knew it was important to eat sensibly. If she wasn’t overwhelmed by maternal love for her baby, at least she could behave like a responsible mother and do her best to serve her baby’s needs. Allowing herself to weaken wouldn’t help either of them. She told herself love would grow and smiled, watching the way Tom’s eyes followed Ian around.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

Ian looked at her in surprise. ‘Are you crying?’

‘It’s my hormones,’ she said, wiping her eyes.

‘As long as that’s all it is,’ he replied, before turning his attention back to the gurgling baby.

‘That’s all it is,’ she murmured. She hoped it was true.

4

In her early forties, Ariadne had been pleased to be asked to cover her colleague’s role as a detective inspector, while Geraldine was taking maternity leave. There was a chance the promotion to acting DI might become a permanent appointment. Their young colleague, Naomi Arnold, had moved up through the ranks relatively quickly and was already a detective sergeant.

‘You’ll be a DCI before long.’ Ariadne said, half joking, but Naomi took the comment seriously.

‘I certainly hope so. That’s what I’m working towards, but who knows?’

‘You’re ambitious,’ Ariadne replied, a little wistfully. ‘And that’s not a bad thing,’ she added quickly, seeing her colleague scowl.

‘Why shouldn’t I be ambitious?’ Naomi asked. ‘There’s nothing wrong with trying to get on in life, is there?’

‘Nothing wrong with that at all.’

Listening to Naomi made Ariadne feel rather old and staid. Pretty, with blonde hair, fair complexion, and pale blue eyes, Naomi looked delicate and dippy, but she was focused on her work and it looked as though she had an impressive future ahead of her. Ariadne wondered how much more successful her own career might have been, had she been less content to simply accept her situation in life, but it was pointless to regret what might have been. With an interesting and challenging job and a happy marriage, she had plenty of reasons to be content and was generally very satisfied with her life. Only occasionally did she question whether she might have pushed herself to achieve more.

‘Have you spoken to Geraldine at all?’ Naomi asked.

With a pang of guilt, Ariadne remembered the call she had missed from their former colleague.

‘Actually, she called me yesterday, but I didn’t get to my phone in time, and then I was busy and forgot to return her call. I’ll speak to her this evening.’

Naomi was surprised Geraldine hadn’t yet brought her baby in to the police station, and said as much, but before Ariadne could respond, they were summoned to a briefing.

‘I hope she and the baby are all right,’ Naomi said, as they walked towards the major incident room together. ‘I mean, I thought she would have been in to see us by now. It must be getting on for six months since she left.’

‘I’m sure everything’s fine,’ Ariadne reassured her. ‘Ian would have told us if there was anything wrong, wouldn’t he?’

Naomi nodded. ‘Yes, Ian seems happy, doesn’t he? You’re right. We’d know if anything was wrong, wouldn’t we?’

Detective Chief Inspector Binita Hewitt was waiting impatiently for the team to assemble. With her slender figure, trim dark bob and penetrating stare, her neat jacket seemed to reflect the precision she demonstrated in her work. Ariadne admired her senior officer’s meticulous approach to investigations, but she worried that at times Binita paid too much attention to detail, for all that she liked to urge her team to look at the ‘bigger picture’. Her collaborative approach made her seem indecisive at times, but she had proved successful in leading murder investigations before, and Ariadne had confidence in her leadership.

‘It’ll be interesting to see how well Binita does without Geraldine, if we’ve got a murder on our hands,’ Naomi murmured.

‘We all miss her, but I’m sure we’ll manage,’ Ariadne replied, a trifle tersely.

She did her best to overlook the implication that she might not prove capable of taking over in Geraldine’s absence, and sighed. Already she was beginning to feel the pressure of her additional responsibility and, as far as she knew, they didn’t even have a case to investigate. She wondered if anyone else was doubting her competence, but was quick to dismiss such pointless speculation. When she had discussed the situation with Nico, he had expressed absolute confidence in her and, as he had pointed out, he knew her better than anyone. Besides, she wouldn’t have been offered the promotion, even temporarily, if her work record hadn’t demonstrated that she was up to the job.

While Geraldine had been Ariadne’s best friend on the team, she was aware that a close bond had developed between Geraldine and Naomi, after Geraldine had saved her younger colleague’s life. Remembering what had happened, Ariadne resolved to look out for Naomi. She knew how much the young officer had relied on Geraldine, and regretted having spoken to her so brusquely. But there was no time to say anything more to her now as everyone was in place, and the detective chief inspector began. A man had been discovered in a property in Penley’s Grove. The death could have been accidental, as the victim appeared to have fallen down a flight of stairs. With a shock, Ariadne realised Binita might be talking about Yiannis’s tenant. She listened with growing alarm as Binita described how paramedics who attended the scene had felt there was something strange about the death. Binita paused for breath, and Ariadne blurted out, ‘Strange in what way?’

‘I’m coming to that,’ Binita replied sharply and Ariadne looked down at the floor. ‘The issue was that the body was found lying at an unnatural angle,’ Binita went on. ‘It’s possible the injured man shifted himself into an awkward position before he died, but the paramedics thought it looked as though the body might have been moved post mortem. There was sufficient doubt for them to contact us, and the officers who attended the scene reported that something didn’t look right. We have no details yet, and in any case we won’t know for certain until after the post mortem, but in the meantime we’re treating the death as suspicious. So let’s see what we can find out about the dead man. We need to be ready to investigate if it turns out there was something unlawful about this death, as it seems might be the case. Nothing has yet been confirmed, but the consensus so far from those at the scene is that we need to look into this.’

Binita told them the dead man’s name was Jay Roper, and he was known to the police as a small-time local drug dealer. His body had been discovered by an elderly neighbour who had contacted his landlord. Ariadne hesitated, but there was no point in admitting she had already met the dead man’s landlord. She might be wrong and, in any case, if Yiannis had any involvement in the death, the investigation would uncover it.

‘Come on,’ she now exhorted the team. ‘Let’s get going and make short work of this.’

She was rewarded with a palpable lift in the atmosphere, as her colleagues smiled in appreciation of her positivity. Maybe being a detective inspector leading a murder investigation wasn’t going to prove so hard after all.

5

Before questioning Yiannis, Ariadne drove to Penley’s Grove to question Mary Jones, the tenant who had called the landlord to tell him about the body. There were no parking spaces outside the house, and she had to draw up a few doors along. Pulling up the hood of her jacket, she hurried through a fine rain to the terraced house where Jay had lived. A cordon was already in place, with a uniformed constable posted by the front door. A couple of rubbish bins occupied most of the narrow paved yard, with an empty milk bottle and some rotting vegetables lying on the ground between them. No attempt had been made to brighten up the yard with flowers, or to sweep up the discarded rubbish. Ariadne logged her arrival and pulled on a protective suit and shoe coverings before negotiating the common approach path up the steps to the front door.

In the entry hall, a black and white floor covering cleverly designed to look like tiles had lifted in one corner to reveal that it was actually linoleum. At the far end of the hall, a steep staircase led up to the first floor. A painted wooden banister ran up one wall, but it was feasible that someone could have lost their footing and fallen headlong down the stairs. Carefully following a route indicated that skirted the hall, Ariadne reached Mary’s front door and knocked. Mary didn’t come to the door straightaway. After waiting a few moments, Ariadne knocked again and at last the door opened. The reason for the delayed response was immediately apparent. Mary stood bent over a walking stick which she was clutching with one hand, while the other rested on the door. She was wheezing, possibly from the effort of walking to the door, but her eyes were bright as she peered up at Ariadne.

‘Yes?’ Her voice was thin with age. ‘What do you people want from me now?’ she asked, taking in Ariadne’s protective outfit.

Ariadne introduced herself.

‘What do you want with me?’

‘I’m here to ask you a few questions.’

‘You’ll have to come in then. I can’t stand for long. It’s my legs.’ As if to emphasise her point, the old woman tapped her walking stick on the floor. ‘Have you brought me my milk? They won’t let me go anywhere. They’re saying I can’t even step out of my own apartment. And they’re telling me I have to move out,’ she grumbled.

‘I’m sorry for causing you more inconvenience. I won’t keep you long. But I do need to ask you a few questions about your neighbour.’

‘Oh dear. Do we have to go over it all again? It was a terrible business. Terrible. He was a horrible man, you know, always disturbing me with his racket, and the street door opening and closing all day long. He had them coming to see him at all hours of the day and night.’

‘Who came to see him?’

Mary shrugged and peered at Ariadne, her shrewd eyes glinting with malice as she mumbled darkly about the fires of hell. ‘I don’t know who they were,’ she said at last. ‘But he was up and down the stairs at all hours, answering the door. Are you going to come in or not? Only I can’t stand here all day.’

She turned unsteadily and shuffled along a narrow hall, leaning heavily on her stick. Ariadne followed her past a raincoat hanging from a row of hooks on the wall above a worn pair of fur-lined ankle boots and a shopping trolley. Mary led her into a living room where two faded chintz-covered armchairs and a matching sofa were arranged in a semi-circle on a threadbare red patterned carpet. On a low table in front of a grimy fireplace, a large television screen dominated the room. The room looked old-fashioned but cosy, with cushions on every seat, lace-edged antimacassars, and a knitted blanket thrown over the back of the settee. A faint smell of soap and lavender failed to mask a stale body odour that greeted Ariadne as she entered the room. With a breathy grunt, Mary lowered herself slowly on to a chair, leaning on the arms as she manoeuvred herself into a sitting position.

‘Can you describe what happened when you discovered the body?’ Ariadne asked, shifting a plump corduroy cushion from an armchair and sitting down.

‘I already told the constable what happened,’ the old lady quavered irritably. ‘My memory’s not what it was.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, I didn’t know he was dead, not at first. No, it was Mr Yiannis who found out he was dead, not me. I thought he had passed out from all the drugs he took.’

‘What was he doing in the hall?’

Mary shut her eyes and, for a second, Ariadne was afraid she had dozed off. ‘I was just back from doing my shopping, and I was in the hall when I heard her upstairs, yelling.’

‘Who was yelling?’

‘I don’t know which of them it was, do I?’ The old woman’s lips moved silently for a second. ‘I knew what he was up to. I was a bit racy myself back in the day.’ She cackled unexpectedly. ‘You wouldn’t think it to look at me now. But that was before I was saved,’ she added, sombre once more.

‘Before you were saved?’

‘God forgives all who truly repent.’

‘Who was yelling upstairs?’ Ariadne steered the conversation back to her question.

Mary leaned forward in her chair, and a dry cough shook her narrow frame. She held out two gnarled fingers. ‘He had two women. I heard them shouting, him and one of his women. I can’t tell you who they were. He might have had more than two of them, visiting him up there,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘He had people coming and going at all hours, disturbing me. I hurried inside and shut the door, but I could still hear them shouting. Don’t think I couldn’t hear what went on up there.’

‘You didn’t mention this shouting before?’

The old woman dismissed the question with a flutter of her veiny hand. ‘You can’t expect me to remember everything that happens, at my age.’

‘Did you hear what they were shouting?’

‘He shouted, “No one! No one!” That’s all I remember. Other than that it was all just raised voices, making a terrible din. No thought for me. No consideration.’ She paused and her rheumy eyes grew sharp with alarm. ‘Next thing, there was a lot of noise, like someone pulling luggage down the stairs, bump, bump, bump, and more yelling and groaning, and then it all went quiet. “Someone’s moving out,” I thought, “and good riddance.”’ She mumbled something about fallen women and their sinful ways. ‘I put the kettle on, and then I listened through the door, just to make sure the noise had stopped.’ She closed her eyes again. ‘And I heard something.’

‘What did you hear?’ Ariadne prompted her.

‘It sounded like a kind of moaning. I opened my door a crack to see what was happening out there, but I kept the chain on the door, just in case. You can’t be too careful, can you, especially these days. And he was lying there, on the floor, at the bottom of the stairs!’ Her eyes were wide open now, and she gripped the armrest of her chair, looking scared. ‘I shut my door straight away to stop him coming in. As I told the other policewoman, I was too frightened to go out.’ She put one wrinkled hand over her mouth and closed her eyes.

Afraid she was going to cry, Ariadne made a reassuring comment, before urging the old woman to continue with her story.

‘There I was, trapped in my own flat!’ she repeated. ‘So I kept calling the landlord and eventually he answered, which was a blessing, because sometimes it takes days to get hold of him. And that’s all I can tell you. After a while I heard a ruckus but I still had no idea what was happening. Then someone knocked at my door and, this time, when I opened it, I saw the hall was full of people all talking at once, and there was my neighbour from upstairs lying on his back, surrounded by police and doctors and I don’t know who else. They told me he was stone cold dead. But there was no sign of his trollop. What I’d taken for a suitcase being dragged down the stairs had been my neighbour. Before I could set foot outside my flat to ask how long they intended to be there, blocking the hall, a very polite young policewoman stopped me. She wanted to know if I had seen anyone entering or leaving the building that morning, which I hadn’t. Then she told me I wasn’t to go out into the hall until they’d finished, and asked me if I needed anything. As it turned out, I didn’t need much because I’d already been to the shops that week, but I asked her to get me some milk.’ Her face relaxed in a smile. ‘The Lord takes care of us all.’

It seemed an odd expression, given that her neighbour had just fallen to his death.

6

Lauren had been too scared to go back and check that Jay was all right. Telling herself he would be fine, she tried to act as though nothing unusual had happened, and they hadn’t rowed at all. But she had seen him hurtling down the stairs and was convinced he must have injured himself, perhaps seriously. Just thinking about it made her feel sick. She kept wondering whether she could have done anything to stop him from falling, but she had been knocked over as they struggled. By the time she had clambered to her feet he was already halfway down the stairs.

Everything had happened so quickly she had scarcely had time to take in what was going on. One minute she had been threatening to leave him, and then he was looming over her, pressing his hand against her mouth, dragging her out of his flat. All she could remember after that was how she had fought against his vice-like grip on her wrists. She had kicked him as hard as she could. If she had been wearing her canvas trainers, she would probably have bruised herself. As it was, the pointed metal toecaps on her black patent shoes were sharp and unyielding and must have hurt his shins. She vaguely remembered stamping on his foot with her heel, and that was what had startled him into releasing his hold on her. The next minute, he was gone. It had all been over in a flash. She had seen his hands flapping around in a vain attempt to hold on to something as he fell, and then he was lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.