Taunting the Dead (DS Allie Shenton)

by Sherratt, Mel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘I won’t stand for it.’

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

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

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

  Terry started to walk up.

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

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

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

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

  ‘I have to sort out number fourteen.’

  ‘But I’ve hardly seen you this week!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  ‘I’m sorry, Tel,’ she whispered.

  But he walked out without a word.

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

  CHAPTER TWELVE

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

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

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

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

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

  ‘I’ll pay for it all.’

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

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

  ‘Of course I’m still here.’

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

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

  ‘Okay.’

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

  ‘Are you mad?’ He stopped slicing as soon as she told him. ‘Surely you haven’t forgotten what she said to you yesterday?’

  ‘Of course I haven’t,’ Carole replied curtly. ‘But you know Steph. She’s all mouth and she has apologised.’

  ‘You’re so gullible.’

  ‘I just want to get out and have a laugh, that’s all.’

  ‘She was downright nasty yesterday. Or have you forgotten that too?’

  Carole hadn’t forgotten. Every word of the disagreement was still etched at the front of her mind. But the bonus side of it happening was that to make it up to her, Steph had invited her to stay over at The Gables. With a bit of luck, Terry would come home. Spending a few moments with him was worth a night listening to Steph’s moans and groans. Better still, she might get a bit of time alone with him in the morning before coming back here. Steph always lay in bed after a session.

  ‘No, I haven’t forgotten.’ Carole moved past Shaun to unload some of the plates from the dishwasher. ‘But you know Steph. Once she’s sobered up, she’s all sweetness and light. She’ll –’

  ‘Steph Ryder will never be sweetness and light,’ Shaun broke in.

  ‘Maybe not, but she’s footing the bill because she was so awful to me. So it’s a win-win situation. I get a night out and it’s all on the house.’

  ‘It’s Friday and we need you here.’

  ‘It’s one Friday night and we’re only going into town for a couple and then back to The Potter’s Wheel. There’s an Elvis tribute band on.’

  The door behind them opened and Stacey popped her head round. ‘Someone to see you, Shaun. Phil Kennedy?’

  ‘What the hell does he want?’ Carole looked at Shaun, who had paled in a flash. ‘It isn’t time to pay him yet.’

  Shaun ignored her as he went through to the restaurant, hoping that Phil wouldn’t let it drop that he’d seen him on Wednesday. Carole followed close on his heels.

  Phil sat down on a stool by the bar. Unshaven with a tatty scarf around his neck and wearing an old Donkey jacket, Carole thought he looked more like an old tramp than a man Steph would want to bed.

  ‘Chuck us a whiskey over,’ he said without looking up at them. ‘It’s fucking freezing out there.’

  ‘We weren’t expecting you.’ Carole’s tone was icy.

  Shaun shot her a look that clearly said shut up. She raised her eyebrows questioningly at him.

  ‘I thought I’d pop in and have a quick chat with Shaun about business. You don’t mind, little lady, do you?’

  Carole hated it when he patronised her. She would never see what Steph saw in him, especially as she had Terry to go home to every night.

  Shaun tapped a measure into a glass from the optics and slid it over. Phil knocked it back in one, slamming the glass down. He smacked his lips as the warmth trickled through him. ‘That’s much better.’ He caught Carole’s eye. ‘I’ll have a coffee as well, darling. And make it strong.’

  Carole was about to shout Stacey over when Phil raised his hand to stop her.

  ‘Can’t you take a hint, you stupid bitch? Get lost.’

  As Carole sloped off, Shaun perched on a stool next to Phil, dreading the start of the conversation.

  ‘So,’ Phil’s eyes flitted across to him, ‘that job we spoke about the other day?’

  ‘Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about –’

  ‘No time for talk.’

  ‘But I don’t know the slightest thing about –’

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ Phil cautioned. ‘We don’t want that wife of yours getting a whiff of any scandal, now, do we?’

  Shaun wondered if the only scandal would be a report of his death sprawled all over the front page of The Sentinel. He could see the headlines now – ‘Local Man Found with Throat Cut.’ Or worse. He’d probably just disappear, never to be heard from or seen again. That’s how Phil Kennedy usually worked – so he’d heard.

  But despite his anxiety about his life being over, he had to tell Phil the decision he’d come to.

  ‘I can’t do it.’

  Phil turned towards him slightly. ‘You sure about that?’

  ‘I –’ Shaun faltered. ‘I’ve never done anything like that in my life.’

  A silence fell between them.

  ‘Fine.’ Phil spoke at last. ‘Get me my money and I’ll be on my way.’ He smiled at Carole as she joined them again.

  ‘There’s nothing like a fancy cup of coffee on a chilly November Day. Biscuits too. You spoil me.’

  Carole put down the tray, laden with three cups. ‘May I join you?’

  ‘You really are a pushy one.’ Phil looked up at her. ‘This is business talk.’

  ‘But this is my business, as well as Shaun’s!’

  ‘There’ll be no fucking business if you don’t sort out some cash for me soon.’

  ‘Why don’t you take yours upstairs?’ Shaun urged, knowing that Phil could spill everything to her in seconds. ‘Once I’m done here, I’ll come up to you.’

  ‘Yes, run along, that’s a good girl.’

  After telling Stacey to keep an eye on things, Carole stormed upstairs, looking over for one last time as she climbed. How dare Kennedy dismiss her as if she were a five-year-old child and needed to go to bed! She was a partner in this business too. Both their names were on the lease of the shop; both their names were on the business loan they were struggling to make payments on. But neither man so much as glanced at her. Men! If they thought they’d got the better of her, then they were wrong. She slammed a door then tiptoed back across the landing and sat on the top step, out of view but hoping to catch some of the conversation.

  As soon as Carole was gone, Phil grabbed Shaun’s wrist. ‘So what’s it to be then, Morrison?’

  ‘I can’t. I’ve never killed anyone,’ Shaun whispered, his face ashen. ‘I can’t do it to order. And not to someone I know.’

  ‘Look, it’s simple.’ Phil gripped him harder. ‘You do the kill and I’ll wipe out your debt.’

  Shaun couldn’t say he wasn’t tempted. To have twenty grand cleared in an instant would be a godsend to him, and to Carole. To get Kennedy off his back would be an even bigger relief. They’d be able to enjoy the business, run it how they wanted, hire more staff so that they could spend more time together instead of one of them upstairs while the other worked downstairs. Maybe they’d be able to rent a place to live in and extend the business like they’d planned to do eventually.

  But to kill someone to erase that twenty grand? No, killing wasn’t in his blood. Hell, fighting wasn’t. Shaun prided himself in being a fair-natured man, level-headed, good to have as a friend.

  And what about Terry? Where did he fit into all this? Occasionally he’d heard about him doing his own dirty work but, more often than not, he’d get someone else to do it. That’s why he was involved with the Kennedy brothers. Phil and his brothers had a reputation for doing as they pleased. Steve was doing time for murder, a fifteen-year stretch. Phil had been banged up several times but for the past few years had stayed on the outside. Terry seemed to trust Phil far more than he did Shaun, so why wasn’t Phil carrying out the hit? He should never
have taken the money from him. Damn the recession affecting their business. They should have sold up and cut their losses. Because right now he was so far up to his neck in shit that he wondered if he’d ever get out of it.

  His eyes flitted briefly around the restaurant, the business they’d built up from scratch. They’d wanted it to feel like eating outdoors as much as possible but there was a sense of space as well as privacy if required. They’d thought that getting everything done high spec would bring more custom. The ambience had been just right, plus great Italian dishes with no one nearby to compete with. It was their dream – still was their dream. He couldn’t let it go in an instant – could he?

  ‘Supposing I did pull it off?’ Shaun pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked slowly. ‘How would I do it?’

  Phil took a flick-knife from his pocket.

  Even though they had their backs to the room, Shaun still looked over his shoulder. The restaurant was empty. Stacey had gone through to the kitchen with the last of the dishes. He picked the knife up and turned it over and over. His stomach did the same thing.

  ‘Twenty grand, gone in a second.’ Phil clicked his finger. Shaun jumped at the sound it made next to his ear. ‘And all this could be yours again.’

  He looked up to see Phil twirling round, waving his arms. Then before he could react, a finger was shoved in his face. ‘You do want this business of yours to be a success, don’t you?’

  Shaun put down the knife. ‘I can’t kill for it!’

  ‘You can and you will.’

  ‘No!’

  Phil grabbed him by his collar and pulled him closer. ‘Do I have to make myself clearer for you? Either you do the job or your business will go down, one way or another. And you will go down with it.’

  ‘Does Terry know about this?’

  Phil stumbled for a fraction of a second before gaining his composure again. ‘Of course he does. What do you take me for?’

  ‘I need to talk to him first.’ Shaun shook his head. ‘He wouldn’t allow this to happen. I can’t do this on your say-so. I can’t!’

  ‘Look, just fucking do it! OKAY?’