Fake Alibi E-Book

Leigh Russell

• Herausgeber: No Exit Press
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Seitenzahl: 457

Beschreibung

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Brilliant 'Another cracking book in this series, done it in a day looking forward to the next one' Charlie DISCOVER ONE OF THE UK'S FAVOURITE CRIME WRITERS WITH OVER 1.5 MILLION COPIES SOLD. When a wheelchair-bound woman is discovered in her home by a neighbour, flat on her back, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling, it soon becomes clear she has been strangled to death. It is her son, Eddy, who is arrested for the crime. But is he really the killer, or is there something more sinister at play? Only Geraldine doubts whether Eddy is cunning enough to kill his mother and cover his tracks so successfully. As the investigation unfolds, it becomes clear that Eddy's alibi is not as solid as it first seemed. With the girlfriend he claims to have been with denying their relationship and then turning up dead outside his house, things only get more complicated. As the body count rises, the investigation team becomes increasingly confused, putting Geraldine in a race against time to solve the case before more lives are lost. Perfect for fans of Angela Marsons, Mel Sherratt and Karin Slaughter, you won't want to miss this thrilling tale of murder, deception, and betrayal. Buckle up and get ready for an unforgettable journey through the twisted mind of a killer. Can be read as a stand-alone.

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’ – Marcel Berlins, 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

‘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, Jo, 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, Identifications and Detections Office

MIT – Murder Investigation Team

Prologue

From the moment their eyes met he knew she was special. For the first time, he grasped the meaning of the words ‘life-changing’, because he understood there was no going back. He couldn’t pretend he had never seen her, not even to himself. His life changed forever when she smiled at him. Her voice thrilled him because he knew she was speaking just to him, her words imbued with a meaning that no one else listening could possibly suspect. But he understood. Mesmerised by her gaze, for an instant he dared not speak for fear of breaking the spell.

‘Would you like chocolate with that?’ he managed to stammer at last.

She hesitated, wanting the moment to last. ‘I don’t know. What would you do?’

He didn’t answer straight away, savouring her deference. He wasn’t used to people asking him for advice.

‘Yes,’ he murmured stupidly.

‘Okay then.’

‘Coming up right away,’ he muttered awkwardly. ‘Kylie,’ he added, trembling as he uttered her name for the first time.

Watching the way her lips curled into a shy smile as he spoke, he wanted to beg her to stay. They could sit down at one of the tables together and talk. He spent his days watching other people chattering and exchanging confidences over coffee and cakes. He and Kylie could engage in meaningful conversation just like the other customers. There was so much they didn’t know about each other, so much he wanted to find out. Her hair fell across her face, shielding her eyes from him. Angry with himself for letting the opportunity slip, his sigh was swallowed by the noisy grinding of the coffee machine as she paid his colleague, tapping her card delicately against the card reader before turning away to move along the counter and collect her drink. A moment later she was gone. Time dragged until his shift ended.

The heavy glass door swung shut and fresh air enveloped him, making him shiver. A chill rain pattered on his cheeks as he hurried away, nursing his disappointment. The following day was sunny and the spring warmth gave him courage. When she returned, he was determined to speak boldly across the counter, and invite her to meet him after work so he could tell her exactly how he felt. He already knew how she would respond. He would not let his chance slip away again. But when he went back the next day, there was no sign of her. He went to work every day for a week without success, until he began to despair of ever meeting her again.

When he finally saw her, an uncontrollable song burst out of him. She was striding purposefully along the street. In a flash, he understood what had happened. He had been worried she was ill, or worse. The truth reassured him. She had forgotten where he worked and had been searching for him all week. Like him, he knew she would not rest until he held her in his arms, like he had seen on television. Heedless of the consequences, he seized his chance. Ignoring the startled shout of the manager, he tore off his apron and darted across the coffee shop. A pair of old women turned to stare at him as he hurtled past them, and a couple of girls sitting at a table near the door giggled. For once he didn’t care that they were laughing at him. He would probably be fired for running out like that at the beginning of his shift, but he didn’t care. He could find other employment, but he would never fall in love again.

Having quit his job without a word of explanation, he spent a blissful day with the woman he loved. First he accompanied her to the hotel where she worked. Once she had gone inside, he waited patiently for the rest of the day before trailing her home. All the way there, he conversed softly with her. A woman who walked past him gave him a curious scowl, but he took no notice of her. Nothing could upset him now that he had found Kylie again. His mother sometimes sang a song about being on the street where he lived. That was just how he felt now. He wanted to stay there all night, singing softly, waiting for Kylie to emerge in the glorious daylight, but eventually hunger forced him to go home.

‘It’s gone eight,’ his mother grumbled, turning to take a dish out of the oven. ‘Don’t blame me if your dinner’s ruined. It was ready over an hour ago. Why didn’t you phone me to say you were working late?’

Predictably enough, she was furious when he admitted he had lost his job.

‘What do you mean?’ Her normally pale face flushed with anger. ‘You’ve only just started there. What did you do this time?’

He shrugged. ‘It was the manager. He said they were overstaffed and someone had to go. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was working really hard.’

That wasn’t strictly true, but his mother would never know. He crunched his way through his overcooked dinner without complaining, even though his fish fingers were hard and there was no soft potato inside his waffles.

‘They only gave you the job last month,’ she said.

‘Exactly. Last in first to go,’ he replied, quoting something he had been told when he had been sacked from his previous job. ‘That’s how it works. The manager said he didn’t want to lose me but he had to let me go.’

‘Why would they take you on and then change their minds so quickly? It doesn’t make sense. If you were doing a good job, he had no business firing you.’ She glared at him as if it was his fault.

He did his best to look aggrieved, although every muscle in his face was aching to smile at his wonderful memories. He hugged his secret to himself.

‘I’ve a good mind to go down there and give that manager a piece of my mind.’

‘There’s no point, Ma. It’s not the manager’s fault. He was very nice about it. He said he was sorry and it wasn’t anything to do with me. It was a decision from head office and there was nothing he could do about it. If it was up to him, he said he would have kept me because I’m a good worker. But it wasn’t up to him and there was nothing he could do about it. That’s what he said.’

He gave his mother a placatory smile but she scowled at him.

‘That’s exactly what you said last time. Did you at least ask him for a reference?’

He hesitated because he hadn’t thought of that, and then he had a flash of inspiration. ‘The manager said he wouldn’t do it because a reference has to say how long you’ve worked somewhere. He said having a job for a month doesn’t look good, even though it wasn’t my fault I had to leave.’

His mother grunted and he continued eating his ruined dinner. It was a pity the fish fingers were so hard, because he usually enjoyed them, but these were so dry they were almost impossible to chew. He was afraid they would give him a belly ache, but he dared not complain. His mother was angry enough already. Before he finished his supper she was on at him again, telling him that he had better start looking for another job first thing in the morning. The next day he left the house early, his mother’s nagging ringing in his ears. She assumed he was job hunting, which suited him fine. In reality he spent the day with Kylie.

‘How did you get on?’ his mother demanded when he returned home for supper. She was in the kitchen, and he could smell his dinner in the oven. She was still harping on about him earning money. She didn’t understand he had no time for that right now. He was too busy to go job hunting. When he attempted to explain, she didn’t seem to understand what he was saying. It was typical of her. She never listened to him.

‘I tried it,’ he said. ‘It didn’t work out.’

‘What are you talking about? You have to get a job. We need the money. My pension isn’t enough for us both to live on. I do what I can, but you’re young and strong. There must be dozens of jobs you could do. You can’t just sit around and rely on me for the rest of your life. Have you tried the supermarket? I’m sure they have openings. They employ plenty of young people. You could at least try to get a job there.’

Her whining irritated him.

‘No, Ma, I’m not getting another job and that’s final.’

‘You can’t spend the rest of your life sitting around here doing nothing.’

‘I’m not doing nothing.’

‘What are you planning to do then? Because whatever it is, if you expect to stay here all day living off me, you can think again.’

He shook his head at her. She didn’t understand. How could she? He scarcely understood the miracle himself.

He tried again, struggling to express his feelings. ‘You don’t understand. I can’t get a job. I have other things to do. More important things.’

‘More important than getting a job? What are you talking about?’

He drew in a deep breath before confessing he had a girlfriend. Instead of looking impressed, his mother burst out laughing.

‘A girlfriend? You? What girl in her right mind is going to look twice at you?’

For once, her mockery washed over him; she had lost the power to hurt him. All he wanted to think about was Kylie. One day, very soon, he would summon up the courage to ask her to marry him. He smiled, knowing what her answer would be.

1

Julie was furious when delivery men left parcels on her front step without bothering to find out if anyone was in. It had happened a few times when she was at home, so she knew they hadn’t rung the bell. Equally irritating was returning home to find a parcel waiting for her on the doorstep, in full view of anyone walking past. As far as she knew, no one had yet helped themselves.

‘But how would I know if something’s been taken?’ she complained to her sister, who made sympathetic noises.

So Julie’s hackles rose when she was returning home one day and spotted a package lying beside her next-door neighbour’s front step. The delivery man – or woman – must have deposited it there without bothering to knock. Even if the person delivering it had rung the bell, they obviously hadn’t waited. It was outrageously unfair, because Julie knew that Doreen wouldn’t be able to retrieve the package from the ground. Had it rained, the parcel could have been drenched. Fortunately it had been dry that day, although recently the month had lived up to its reputation, with seasonal April showers. Her son must already have left for work, in which case the package could have stayed outside all day, until he came home. It was lucky for Doreen that Julie was a good neighbour. Feeling virtuous, she marched up to her neighbour’s front door and rang the bell several times. There was no answer. She knocked and called out. Aware that Doreen could only move slowly, Julie waited before ringing again, but there was no response from inside the house. Either Doreen was out, or else she had fallen asleep.

With a sigh, Julie scooped up the parcel, intending to take it home with her and return with it later, but as she turned away she distinctly heard voices in the house. Annoyed that no one inside had answered her summons, she followed the sound which seemed to be coming from the front room. Through the net curtains, she made out the flickering light of the television. Now that she was close to the window, she realised that was the source of the voices. Doreen must have turned the volume up so high, she hadn’t heard Julie at the door. Annoyed, Julie knocked on the window and shouted. Still there was no response from inside the house. She bent down and squinted through a gap in the curtains, screwing up her eyes in an effort to see if anyone was there. Suddenly registering what she was looking at, she drew back with a low cry of alarm, letting the parcel fall from her hands. It landed at her feet with a soft thud.

Doreen was lying flat on her back, gazing up at the ceiling. Stooping down to retrieve the parcel, Julie peered in through the window again, shouting Doreen’s name and knocking loudly on the glass all the while. Doreen didn’t stir. Shaking slightly, Julie stepped further back, knocking into the bins with a clatter that startled her so much she dropped the parcel again. Telling herself that her neighbour must be asleep and she had no business spying on her through the window anyway, she picked up the parcel, which was starting to look rather dirty and battered. It was difficult to see very much through a narrow gap in the curtains anyway. Doreen was definitely lying on the floor, but there was nothing to suggest that she was in need of help. She was probably just resting. In any case, she wasn’t Julie’s responsibility.

It wasn’t as if Doreen lived on her own. Her son would be home soon to look after her. But Julie knew that the young man might be out at work for hours. Only a few days earlier, Doreen had called out to Julie as she was putting her rubbish out, to boast that he had landed a job in town. Surprised to hear that Doreen’s son had a job, Julie had smiled and nodded and congratulated her neighbour. To hear Doreen talk, anyone might have thought he had landed a highly paid post as Chief Executive of a multinational corporation. The reality, of course, was rather different. He had found employment as a waiter in a café. It was hardly an impressive position, but Doreen seemed ready to burst with pride, insisting that her son was starting at the bottom and would work his way up the ladder.

‘Not much of a ladder,’ Julie muttered.

‘What’s that?’

‘I was just saying how pleased I am for him. Do pass on my congratulations.’

‘Oh yes, he’s a real help, my boy,’ Doreen had continued, as though Julie hadn’t spoken. ‘He’s an absolute treasure.’

Julie had nodded and smiled. ‘You’re very lucky to have such a wonderful son,’ she had replied, hiding her true feelings because, after all, Doreen was in a wheelchair, and there was no call to be unkind.

Clutching the battered parcel, she tried not to think about her neighbour, lying flat on her back, with the television blaring beside her. It was difficult not to imagine the worst. The problem for Julie was that she had clearly seen Doreen’s eyes were open, and she was lying on the floor staring at the ceiling. Something was clearly amiss. Julie regretted having gone out of her way to try and be a good neighbour, but she could no more undo her actions than she could forget what she had seen through the window. Clutching the undelivered parcel in front of her like a shield, she peeped in between the curtains again. The television was still on and Doreen remained on the floor, in exactly the same position as before, seemingly staring up at the ceiling. It was impossible to keep on pretending that nothing was wrong.

Scowling, Julie pulled out her phone. This was what came of trying to be a good neighbour.

‘Hello, hello? I think my neighbour’s had a fall or something. I – I happened to catch sight of her through the window.’ As she spoke, she realised that must sound as though she had been spying on Doreen. Having begun, she had no choice but to plough on. ‘The thing is, I knocked on her door because someone had left a parcel outside, and no one answered so I looked in because I could hear voices, only that was just the television. Anyway, I can see her lying on the floor and she’s not moving. I think she might need help if she’s fallen out of her wheelchair. She probably needs an ambulance. She may have had an accident. I don’t think she could hear me calling her. She didn’t react. She’s just lying there –’

The voice on the line asked for her address. As she hung up, it occurred to Julie that Doreen was probably already beyond help. She was tempted to call back and cancel the ambulance. It seemed a pity to take up their time when they could be attending to an urgent medical emergency. But it was too late now. She had made the call, and the ambulance was on its way. She would just have to wait and see it through. There was even a chance she might have saved her neighbour’s life, but somehow she didn’t believe that for an instant, and she was shocked to realise that she didn’t really care. She sat down on her own doorstep to wait. She hoped the ambulance would arrive soon.

2

Geraldine was pleased to see her colleague and friend, Detective Sergeant Ariadne Moralis, who had just returned from her honeymoon. Geraldine greeted her, and was disappointed when Ariadne seemed reluctant to talk.

‘Not now,’ she said, when Geraldine suggested they take a break together. ‘I’ve got so much to catch up on.’ That was probably true, but somehow it felt like a rebuff.

By half past four, when they still hadn’t spoken, Geraldine went over to try and start a conversation with her friend.

‘Must be a bit of a downer coming back to work after two weeks on a Greek island. I can see you had good weather.’

Usually sociable, Ariadne just grunted.

‘Is everything all right?’ Geraldine asked quietly, moving closer and leaning over her friend.

Before Ariadne had time to reply, they were summoned to an unscheduled briefing. Working on a murder investigation team, they both knew what that might mean. Their detective chief inspector, Eileen Duncan, glared severely around a small group of assembled officers as she instructed them to make enquiries into a woman who had died under suspicious circumstances. Little was known about the victim so far, and the team were set to work gathering as much information about her as possible, while the crime scene was being examined.

‘I see the DCI’s her usual positive self,’ Ariadne grumbled as she accompanied Geraldine from the incident room.

Geraldine was tempted to retort that Ariadne herself was hardly cheerful. She asked her friend once more if everything was all right and received a snappy reply, after which they made their way to the crime scene together in silence. Geraldine resolved to find out what was troubling her friend, but first they had work to do. However many crime scenes Geraldine viewed, she never failed to experience a frisson of excitement when she was about to visit another one. Once she arrived, her professional fascination would kick in and her own feelings would be swept aside by a fierce determination to discover the truth. In that moment, nothing else would matter to her. Geraldine used to wonder if she had fallen into the habit of using her work as a distraction from her own loneliness while she had been single. At least her preoccupation was easy to justify. No one could deny that murder investigations were important.

As they drove to the house, which was located in a side street off Gillygate, Geraldine did a mental recap of what little was known about the case. After being killed in suspicious circumstances at home, the woman had been discovered by her next-door neighbour. In spite of Ariadne’s taciturnity, Geraldine was pleased to be working alongside her. Ariadne was usually sociable, and would no doubt return to her normal congeniality before long. But Geraldine had no time to worry about her colleague appearing downhearted when they had a possible murder to investigate. Unlike several of her colleagues, Geraldine had never been disturbed by the sight of a dead body. On the contrary, the sight of a corpse could engross her without touching her emotions. In the urgency of a crime scene, all that interested her was that a dead body held clues that might lead them to a killer. Distress and pity, which might cloud her judgement, had no place at a crime scene. She occasionally questioned whether she was callous for experiencing so little emotion in the presence of death, but at the same time she knew that her ability to shut herself off from her feelings made her a good detective, and she was secretly thankful for her ability to remain detached.

Reaching the address in Portland Street, they drew up outside a well maintained row of imposing Victorian terraced houses. The elegant brick-built property had a large bay ground floor window at the front, and a narrow front yard was fenced off from the street by low wrought iron railings. A scene of crime officer was busy checking the front step of the house where the victim, Doreen Lewis, had lived, not far from the centre of York. Another officer was scrutinising the yard, checking for footprints and any other sign of disturbance. Geraldine and Ariadne pulled on their protective coverings and overshoes, before following the established approach path along the hall, walking carefully along plastic stepping stones and manoeuvring their way past a folded wheelchair leaning against the wall. Entering the front room they saw the dead woman lying flat on her back. Nothing in the room suggested there had been a struggle. Magazines lay in a tidy pile on a low wooden coffee table beside the dead woman, and two armchairs and a small sofa were neatly arranged around the room, as though forming a protective wall around their dead owner. A basket of different coloured wools lay on the floor beside one chair. In the centre of the wall facing the door was a Victorian fireplace, which was probably original although it had an obviously fake log fire, with a row of ornamental cats displayed on the mantelpiece.

Geraldine turned her attention to the dead body. Had her skin not been grey, Doreen Lewis might have looked as though she was resting. Dark hair threaded with grey fanned out untidily around her head, and her gaunt face appeared to gleam, pale against the patterned red carpet.

Ariadne glanced at the dead woman, before she turned and left.

‘Are you coming?’ she asked, looking back as she reached the door to the hall. ‘We’ve seen her. We need to leave SOCOs to get on. We’re only going to be in the way.’

Geraldine grunted. ‘Just give me a minute,’ she called out. ‘I want to look around here for a bit longer.’

Once Ariadne had gone, Geraldine stood perfectly still for a moment, taking in the orderliness of the room in which the only jarring note was struck by the dead body stretched out on the carpet. Geraldine closed her eyes. The silence was broken by the scratching and shuffling of scene of crime officers as they moved softly around the room, slipping samples into evidence bags, and their occasional muttered exchanges. The stench from the body almost masked a faint, musty smell. Slowly opening her eyes, she gazed around. Everything from the shabby curtains to the heavy, dark wooden furniture was covered in a film of dust, and there was a sense of abandonment in the room, as though it had once been carefully looked after but had been neglected for a long time. The explanation for this air of deterioration was evident on a closer examination of the scene. The woman’s legs looked withered, and ruts worn in the carpet suggested that a wheelchair had frequently moved across the floor. The dead woman had clearly not been physically capable of taking care of the house herself, even if she had managed to keep it tidy.

‘How did she die?’ she asked the nearest scene of crime officer.

He turned to face her and his youth surprised her. He barely looked out of his teens.

He frowned anxiously. ‘We haven’t established the exact cause of death yet. But it looks as though someone else was involved. That is, the medical officer doesn’t think it looks as though she could have walked here unaided, and what we’ve found so far confirms that.’

‘What have you found?’

The scene of crime officer spoke rapidly, with an air of suppressed excitement. ‘There are marks on the carpet where her feet may have pushed against the pile when she was dragged in here.’ He indicated two almost parallel furrows across the floor which could have been made, as he said, by a person’s heels being dragged across the room. ‘The width of the grooves matches the back of her heels. Plus her wheelchair’s in the hall. So how could she have got here if she couldn’t walk?’

‘Very well,’ Geraldine said, hiding her impatience with the young officer. ‘The reason for those tracks has not yet been established so your theory is mere speculation at this point. She might have been able to walk around indoors, holding on for support.’ She pointed out a handrail that had been installed along one wall. ‘So let’s gather some more evidence and see what can be proved beyond any doubt.’

She spoke more sharply than she had intended. She was not yet too jaded to remember the wildness of her own enthusiasm when she had been a young detective working on her first cases. Every possibility had seemed thrilling to her in those days. She still had not lost her visceral sense of excitement when viewing a crime scene. She had just grown more careful to hide her feelings beneath a mask of detachment. On closer examination, she tended to agree that the body had been dragged to its final position. The dead woman could probably move around the house, supporting herself on furniture and clinging to rails on the walls, but the marks on the carpet did not appear to have been made by wheels. With a sigh, she turned away, unable to interpret the signs on the carpet with any certainty.

‘The medical officer thinks she may have been strangled,’ the SOCO went on. ‘But that’s not been officially confirmed.’

Geraldine looked down at the body again, but the woman’s neck was concealed by her clothing and couldn’t be disturbed. There was nothing more Geraldine could learn for now. As Ariadne had said, it was time for SOCOs to gather evidence, after which a post mortem would establish the cause of death.

‘We’ll get to the truth of what happened,’ she muttered to the dead woman as she turned away.

‘What was that?’ the scene of crime officer enquired. ‘I didn’t catch what you said.’

‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ Geraldine replied.

Ignoring his baffled expression, she left.

3

Doreen’s body had been discovered by her next door neighbour, Julie West. Leaving the dead woman’s house, Geraldine removed her protective clothing and dropped it in the disposal bin before going to question the neighbour. A small, skinny woman opened the door straight away, as though she had observed Geraldine’s approach and had been waiting for her to knock on the door. Geraldine held up her warrant card but before she had a chance to explain the reason for her visit, the other woman darted backwards, beckoning to her.

‘I know why you’re here,’ the neighbour called out, sounding eager and excited, her speech as rapid as her movements. ‘Come in, come in. This way, this way. Give the door a good slam behind you.’

Still gesturing to her visitor to follow her, she led the way down her narrow hall, with Geraldine at her heels. Julie ushered Geraldine into a front room. Similar in size to Doreen’s, it was very differently furnished, with two upright wooden chairs, a black and chrome chair that would have been more suitable for an office, and a small green leather sofa. Instead of a fireplace, the room boasted a gigantic television screen on the far wall, which looked out of place in the small square living room. No one piece of furniture was unattractive by itself, but everything in the room clashed.

‘You’ve come about Doreen next door,’ Julie said, her voice rising in agitation. It wasn’t a question, but Geraldine nodded. ‘It was me found her,’ the woman went on, with a nervous cough. ‘I saw her through the window and I thought to myself straight away, something isn’t right here. That’s what I thought, and I was right.’ She coughed again, gazing anxiously at Geraldine.

Quietly Geraldine invited her to relate exactly what had happened. Julie launched into an account of how she had gone next door to deliver a parcel that had been left lying on the front doorstep.

‘I mean,’ she went on, suddenly animated, ‘anyone could have come along and taken it. Whoever delivered it just left it lying there, in full view of anyone passing by. Surely there must be laws about this? And if there aren’t, there should be. It’s just asking for thieves to steal parcels if they’re left lying around like that, in full daylight. Doreen’s in a wheelchair. How is she supposed to pick up something left lying on the ground?’

She seemed to be more exercised by the negligence of delivery men than by her discovery of a dead body.

‘What if it was something valuable being delivered?’ she continued her rant. ‘Or it could’ve been something poor Doreen had been waiting for, and really needed. And even if it wasn’t valuable or urgent, that was someone’s property left lying around in the street. What if it was stolen from the doorstep? What then? Who was going to pay for it?’

Manoeuvring the neighbour past her indignation, Geraldine heard how Julie had discovered Doreen lying flat on her back on the floor. More time was wasted in hearing her insist that she hadn’t been prying, but had just chanced to glance through the window next door.

‘I mean, I’m not one to go snooping,’ she said. ‘I respect other people’s right to privacy.’

Gradually Geraldine set about pumping Julie for information about Doreen. She learned that Julie had been living next door to Doreen for nearly twenty years. Doreen rarely left the house and then only in a wheelchair.

‘She used to be spry as anything,’ she added mournfully. ‘But then it got to her.’

‘What did?’

Julie shrugged. ‘It was the stroke put her in a wheelchair, must be five or six years ago. I couldn’t say for certain. The time just goes, doesn’t it? But I’ve seen her on her feet, shuffling around the bins,’ she added in a whisper, as though she was afraid someone might be listening. ‘She could walk all right. I watched her one day, moving around their scrapheap of a garden, and she wasn’t even using a stick. She told me she had good days and bad days, but I don’t know about that. And Eddy’s a strange one,’ she added, shaking her head. ‘Very strange.’

Geraldine waited to see if she would elaborate and, sure enough, Julie explained herself without any prompting. Geraldine learned that Doreen had lived with a son who made Julie feel uneasy.

‘He always struck me as odd,’ she explained.

‘Odd in what way?’ Geraldine prompted her.

‘Odd, you know, odd. There was something not quite right about him, if you follow my meaning.’

‘Did he say something that made you feel uncomfortable?’

‘No, not as such, but he did it all right. Eddy killed her, you take my word for it. I wouldn’t tell tales about something like that if I didn’t know what I was talking about.’ She nodded sagely.

‘What is it that makes you so sure he’s guilty?’ Geraldine asked. ‘If you’re keeping any information to yourself, now is the time to share it.’

‘I just know he did it,’ Julie replied. ‘It seems obvious, doesn’t it, when you think about it? I live next door to them. I know what he was capable of.’

‘Did he ever threaten you, or did you witness him being violent?’

‘No, but that’s not the point. I’m not the one he attacked.’

‘Did you ever hear him threatening his mother?’

‘No, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t kill her.’

‘I’ll be making a note of what you’ve said, and everything you told me will be taken very seriously by the team investigating Doreen’s death. In the meantime, can you recall seeing anyone else visiting the house recently?’

Julie sighed. ‘Yes, yes, people come and go a bit. She has health workers and social workers or carers, who visit the house. Probably Eddy’s probation officer, I wouldn’t be surprised.’

‘Do you know why Eddy’s on probation?’ Geraldine enquired.

‘Well, I’m not saying he is, necessarily, but if he isn’t he bloody well ought to be. He shouldn’t be allowed out by himself. I’m telling you, he’s a danger to us all,’ Julie retorted, seeming irritated.

‘But he’s never attacked you?’

Julie hesitated. ‘Not as such, no,’ she replied. ‘Not yet.’

‘And has he ever attacked anyone else, to your knowledge? I need you to be honest, Julie.’

‘Not exactly, but he used to follow my sister before she moved away. I know that for a fact. Every time she went out, he’d be there, shuffling along behind her. I saw him with my own eyes, following her on the pavement, scurrying after her like a dog. It freaked me out. I’m telling you, he isn’t normal.’

Geraldine asked where they could find Julie’s sister.

‘Don’t waste your time,’ Julie said, shaking her head. ‘She didn’t believe me when I told her he was stalking her. She thought I was imagining it. She was convinced he was harmless, but you can never be sure, can you? I’ve only spoken to him a couple of times. I avoid him, to be honest. He never said anything particular to me. He was never rude, nothing like that. But I wouldn’t want to meet him alone on the street at night, if you know what I mean. He’s strange and, well, he’s not all there.’

Geraldine wasn’t sure she knew exactly what Julie meant, her comments were so vague, but she nodded encouragingly all the same, and waited to hear what else Julie would say. Sometimes people were more forthcoming when they didn’t feel as though they were being questioned.

‘Not that there’s necessarily anything wrong with a grown man living with his mother,’ Julie went on. ‘And Doreen idolised him. In her eyes he could do no wrong.’ She snorted. ‘But I’m telling you, there’s something not right about Eddy. I don’t want to speak out of turn, but you’ll see for yourself when you meet him and then you can make up your own mind.’

She fell silent, and Geraldine made one further attempt to discover what she meant.

‘I can’t explain, but there’s something not right about him. There’s nothing more I can say about him really,’ was all Julie said.

‘What about Doreen?’ Geraldine asked.

She was more interested in hearing about the dead woman’s son, but Julie seemed to have nothing further to say about him, beyond her rambling allegations.

‘What about Doreen?’ Geraldine repeated. ‘Can you tell me anything about her?’

‘Other than that she’s dead, you mean?’

Suppressing a sigh of impatience, Geraldine forced a smile. To her surprise, Julie launched into a lengthy character assassination of her neighbour, claiming that Doreen had only two topics of conversation.

‘I don’t like to speak ill of the dead,’ she began, and Geraldine settled down to listen carefully. ‘But Doreen was only interested in herself. She was forever banging on about her aches and pains, as though she was the only person in the world who had problems.’

Julie digressed into talking about her own back problems, and it was only with difficulty that Geraldine steered her back to talking about her neighbour.

‘You try not to think about getting old and death and all that,’ Julie said, almost angrily, ‘and then something like this happens, right on your doorstep, and you can’t not think about it, can you? And then there’s her son,’ Julie concluded, sitting back in her chair as though she had finished her recitation.

‘What else can you tell me about Eddy?’ Geraldine prompted her.

But Julie appeared to have said everything she was prepared to say.

‘Speak to him yourself,’ she replied. ‘You’ll see what I mean.’

There was nothing more for Geraldine to do but thank Julie for her information, and take her leave.

‘You catch that bastard who did her in,’ Julie called out as Geraldine walked back to the street. ‘You catch him and lock him up! We want to be able to sleep soundly at night.’

The weather had been mild all day, but a light breeze was blowing as she returned to the car where Ariadne was waiting for her. A stray leaf left over from the winter scudded across the pavement, dry and curling at the edges. Before she could step on it, the leaf was whisked away in a gust of wind.

4

Driving away, Geraldine thought about what Julie had said about trying not to think about death. Geraldine had never been unduly bothered by the awareness that people she cared about would one day cease to be. She had attributed her insouciance to the fact that she was more focused on trying to live a useful life than to any mental robustness of her own. Now she wondered if her feelings had actually stemmed from the fact that she had never before been emotionally dependent on anyone else. Until now. She had always had friends and family, people she would miss were they to die. Those were people she loved. But they had never been pivotal to her existence. Her thoughts drifted to her parents, and to the first detective chief inspector she had worked for, a woman who had taught her so much but had died of cancer not long after her retirement. Geraldine still regretted never having thanked her properly. She would have liked to have told her about her own promotion to inspector, only it was too late now. But while these were people whose death left a sadness in her life, their loss did not alter her existence.

Now that she was living with her colleague, Ian, it frightened her to think how her whole life would change if he were to die. Every minute of every day, waking and sleeping, her world would be filled with the anguish of her loss. She experienced a visceral fear that had never gripped her until she and Ian started living together. For the first time in her life she had given a hostage to fortune, and she had never felt so vulnerable. Maybe that was the real reason she had once been able to deal so dispassionately with death. Terror of its power over life had not really touched her before now. Casting such morbid thoughts aside with an effort, she turned her attention to Julie’s comments on Doreen’s son. He was most definitely a person of interest. The sooner they questioned him the better.

Back at the police station, Geraldine typed up her report, happy to stay late and read whatever else had been recorded by her colleagues about Doreen Lewis. She had nothing to rush home for since Ian wasn’t there waiting for her. His brother was visiting from overseas, and Ian had arranged to meet him in London. He wasn’t going away for long, but the time had begun to drag miserably after just two days, so Geraldine was pleased to find herself allocated to an investigation. Doing her best to ignore the fact that she was happy a dead woman had come along to occupy her, she reread her own notes. In retrospect, she realised her interview with Julie had been unsatisfactory. Julie’s comments about Doreen’s son had been speculative, riddled with innuendos but lacking any real substance.

The next morning, resolving to ignore her friend’s surly behaviour on the previous day, Geraldine approached Ariadne and invited her over for supper one evening that week.

‘There’s no need to do that,’ Ariadne snapped. ‘I can live without your pity, thank you very much.’

Geraldine was taken aback. ‘Ariadne, what are you talking about? What pity? If anything, you should be feeling sorry for me. Ian’s only been away for two days and I’m already missing him.’

‘What? Oh, okay. Sorry, I didn’t know he wasn’t around at the moment.’

‘So what was that about?’ Geraldine enquired, really concerned about her friend.

Ariadne merely shook her head, muttering that it was nothing, and abruptly left her desk. Geraldine determined to find out what was going on. She kept an eye on Ariadne and at lunchtime she followed her to the canteen and sat down at her table.

‘I knew you’d be along,’ Ariadne said ungraciously. ‘What do you want now?’

‘I want to know why you’re so miserable.’

‘I’m not miserable.’

‘You refused to talk to me yesterday.’

‘I didn’t refuse to talk to you.’

‘And you snapped at me this morning,’ Geraldine went on, ‘and you’re being hostile now. And what was that about being pitied? What’s happened? I think you owe me an explanation.’

Ariadne scowled. ‘I don’t owe you anything –’ she began, and sighed. ‘Oh, all right, it’s true I’ve been behaving like a spoilt child, I know. But I can’t talk about it here.’ She glanced around as though afraid someone might be listening.

‘Why don’t you come over this evening and we can talk over a glass of wine and a takeaway?’ Geraldine suggested. ‘You’d be doing me a favour, really. Like I said, I’m lonely without Ian.’

‘Love’s young dream,’ Ariadne muttered sourly.

Geraldine said nothing. Evidently Ariadne’s honeymoon had not gone well after all. They finished their lunch in silence. Only a month had passed since Geraldine had watched Ariadne celebrating her wedding as a joyful bride. It was hard to believe she was the same woman who now sat wretchedly picking at her food. Her curly hair had lost its sheen, she was reluctant to meet Geraldine’s gaze, and she seemed to be gripped by abject misery. Geraldine didn’t want to press Ariadne to talk at work, but she resolved to do her best to persuade her friend to share her concerns. Late that afternoon, Geraldine was about to call by Ariadne’s desk and arrange for her to come over, when she was summoned by the detective chief inspector. Doreen’s son had been located but was refusing to answer questions.

‘Where was he?’ Geraldine asked.

Eileen nodded briskly. ‘I say he was found, but he wasn’t exactly hiding. A neighbour called us to say he had returned home.’

Geraldine didn’t need to be told the identity of the neighbour who had called the police. She drove straight to Doreen’s house which now belonged to her son, Eddy, and found him sitting at a small table in the kitchen. There was a faint smell of burnt toast, and the sink was filled with dirty plates. He looked at Geraldine apprehensively, perhaps because a uniformed constable was stationed in his hall. With plump wrists emerging from his sleeves and a chubby face, he might have resembled a Renaissance cherub, were it not for his scowl. Small deep-set black eyes glared at her from his round face, so that he resembled a sullen oversized child rather than an angelic being. Scratching at his unevenly shaven chin with stubby fingers, he spoke in a curiously high-pitched voice, complaining that he hadn’t invited any police officers into the house and he wanted them to go away and leave him alone. When he stopped talking, his bottom lip hung slackly, giving him a foolish air.

‘Eddy, you’re not under suspicion,’ Geraldine replied.

That wasn’t strictly true. She was aware of the irony in her trying to gain his trust with lies, but she suspected he was frightened. Eddy continued to glare at her from under lowered brows.

‘We don’t think you’ve done anything wrong,’ she explained slowly and carefully, unsure how much he understood. ‘We just want to ask you a few questions about your mother.’ She wondered how far she ought to question him on his own.

‘Where is she?’ he asked unexpectedly. ‘Why isn’t she here? She’s always here.’

Geraldine spoke as gently as she could. ‘I’m afraid your mother’s not coming home,’ she said, instinctively talking to him as though he was a child. ‘I’m sorry to tell you your mother is dead.’

Eddy’s response was so surprising, Geraldine wondered whether it might actually be a calculated attempt to appear childishly innocent.

‘What about my supper? Who’s going to make my supper now? She always makes my supper.’

He seemed more put out that his mother wasn’t at home to cook for him, than that she was dead.

‘We’re looking into the circumstances surrounding her death,’ Geraldine said softly.

‘What do you want with me?’ he demanded. ‘If she’s not here, I’m going to be busy enough, aren’t I? I’ll have to make my own supper. I’m going to have beans.’

He seemed incapable of looking at Geraldine directly, and scarcely acknowledged what she had told him. It wasn’t just that he was shy, or socially awkward. There was something almost sly about his reaction to hearing about Doreen’s death. Geraldine recalled what Julie had said about him. She tried not to be influenced by other people’s opinions, but she found herself agreeing with Julie. There was something decidedly odd about Eddy. When she asked him where he had been for the past twenty-four hours, he shook his head and refused to answer the question.

‘I don’t have to tell you anything,’ he replied. ‘You’re a stranger. I’m not even supposed to be talking to you. Did my mother let you in? If she’s dead, I never killed her. Go away and leave me alone. I don’t have to answer any questions.’

Geraldine hid her astonishment. Perhaps he wasn’t as capable of cunning as she had first suspected. But even if he was pretending to be vacuous, it wouldn’t help his case. Stupidity was no guarantee of innocence. She spoke more firmly.

‘Eddy, you do understand that we need you to account for your movements? You have to tell us where you were yesterday evening, and where you have been ever since.’

‘No,’ he replied, his eyes flicking around the room and looking everywhere but at his interlocutor, ‘I don’t have to tell you anything. I don’t know you.’

‘You realise that refusing to talk to the police is bound to attract suspicion,’ she said. ‘We can continue this at the police station if you won’t co-operate here. And we can ask someone you know to come with you.’

Eddy merely shook his head. ‘I don’t want anyone to come with me anywhere. I want you to leave me alone,’ he said. ‘This is my house now,’ he added proudly.

Even though he was sitting down, Geraldine could see he was a short man. From that angle, his torso appeared almost stunted. When he rose to his feet, she found herself looking down on him.

‘You know you will need to account for your movements on the day of your mother’s death,’ she said. ‘It would be better for you if you did so straight away.’

Eddy didn’t answer and Geraldine left.

‘He’ll have to accept sooner or later that he can’t go on refusing to speak to us,’ Eileen said irritably when Geraldine reported on her lack of success with Eddy. ‘Let’s bring him in and question him here. Perhaps the duty brief will talk some sense into him. And if that fails, I dare say a night in a cell will persuade him to talk.’

Everyone agreed with Eileen that Eddy was the most likely suspect. Doreen had owned her house, along with some savings, and her son was her sole beneficiary, so he had a motive of sorts, as well as ample opportunity, and as far as they knew he had no alibi. It was almost an open and shut case.

‘We still can’t be sure it was him,’ Geraldine pointed out. ‘This is all circumstantial.’

‘He had motive, access to the house – there’s no sign of any break-in, remember – and so far he’s refused to account for his movements at the time of Doreen’s death,’ Eileen said with an air of finality. ‘She was attacked at home, and he’s the only one who stands to benefit from her death. It’s obvious he’s guilty. He must have thought we wouldn’t be able to put two and two together and come up with the right answer, and now he doesn’t know how to get out of it. The whole thing is completely stupid, of course, but we know he’s not the sharpest tool in the toolbox. Only someone really stupid would have imagined they could pull it off. He seems to think if he doesn’t say anything, he won’t be apprehended.’

Geraldine agreed it was possible Eddy was guilty, but something didn’t seem quite right.

‘Surely if he had killed his mother he would be making some attempt to deny it,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t seem to realise he’s a suspect. At first he didn’t even seem to know she was dead. He asked me where she was. And wouldn’t he have arranged an alibi of some sort, if he’s guilty?’

‘Unless it wasn’t planned,’ Eileen replied.

‘Perhaps he and his mother didn’t get on and he snapped,’ Ariadne suggested. ‘You don’t always know what other people are capable of,’ she added in a low voice.

Geraldine resolved to speak to Ariadne again, but in the meantime she had to think about Eddy.

‘I think we need to treat him carefully,’ she said. ‘He has a learning disability.’

‘That could be an act,’ a constable said.

Geraldine hesitated. She had contacted social services but the only response she had received was that Eddy’s mother had been responsible for him, and he had been able to work and support himself. They had not been aware of any problems.

‘We do have real issues to deal with,’ the social worker had barked, when Geraldine had persisted.

‘This is all speculation,’ Eileen replied grimly. ‘I dare say it won’t be long before his lawyer claims he can’t be held responsible for his actions. But even if he has a learning disability, if he killed his mother, we need to get him behind bars so he can’t be a danger to anyone else he happens to fall out with. So let’s start finding some more evidence. SOCOs found traces of DNA in her hair. And in the meantime, we’ll bring him in and question him about his mother’s death.’