Taunting the Dead (DS Allie Shenton)

by Sherratt, Mel

  Carole was in the living room. ‘You look like I feel,’ she told him as he stood in the doorway.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Shaun glanced at her sheepishly. Her face had stains of last night’s make-up and her hair stuck up in tufts after a deep sleep. A purple dressing gown was wrapped around her, held together by her folded arms.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing.’ He raised his mug, still full of cold coffee. ‘I’m making a fresh brew. Want one?’

  ‘Make it black.’ Carole sighed. ‘My head is pounding. Had a right skinful last night. Oh, I had a text message from Terry earlier.’

  Shaun dropped the mug. Coffee splattered everywhere, the mug shattering into tiny fragments with a bang and a whoosh.

  ‘Do you have to be so noisy?’ Carole held onto her head with both hands. ‘What a mess you’ve made, you clumsy git.’

  ‘What did Terry want?’

  ‘Apparently Steph didn’t come home last night. No wonder I couldn’t find her. I bet she’s gone home with that lazy…’ Carole stopped.

  ‘That lazy who?’

  ‘That lazy tart, Tracy Smithson,’ Carole recovered quickly, thankful that she hadn’t given the game away. She could take a secret to her grave but she doubted that Shaun would – for the simple reason he would love to tell Terry Ryder that Phil Kennedy was screwing his wife.

  ‘So, she didn’t go home? She’ll turn up soon though, won’t she?’

  ‘Yeah, course she will. I reckon it’s because I was supposed to be staying over at her house. He was probably expecting the pair of us to be there this morning. You know how possessive he is with her, with all his texts and phone calls, checking up on her all the time. I’m not texting him back. Can’t stand that type of thing.’

  Shaun wondered about the scathing tone but he let it go as he bent to pick up the remnants of the mug. Then he took them through to the bin. He almost dropped them again when he heard a news bulletin on BBC Radio Stoke. It was being reported that Leek New Road was closed off temporarily on one side due to a police incident. The reporter spoke of delays in traffic, for the next few hours at least, as a body had been discovered on Brooke Lane. Details were sketchy but more would follow as and when they received them.

  But for Shaun, there weren’t any sketchy details. It had to be Steph. Blood rushed to his head and he sat down quickly. It must be her. It was too much of a coincidence for it not to be. But what had happened? Who had killed her? And how had they killed her? Fuck, her life could have been ending while he’d sat in the gutter throwing up. How guilty would that make him feel – stupid, spineless shit that he was.

  There was no mention of how it had happened yet. Not nearly enough information to tie up the details for someone who should have murdered her to get away with saying that he had. Because that was the next thing he needed to figure out.

  Christ, what was he going to do? He hit the heel of his hand on his forehead twice in quick succession. Think. THINK. Was someone trying to set him up as a killer, even though he’d never touched Steph? Or was someone wanting Steph dead more than Phil Kennedy? Could Terry have got to hear about it?

  As he stood there, a sickening yet welcome thought struck him. Maybe he could bluff his way through this. He could tell Phil that he’d done it. After all, surely the real killer wouldn’t come forward? But what if Phil told Terry that it was him who’d killed Steph? His life would well and truly be over then, for sure.

  Shaun choked back vomit. He was in a no-win situation.

  If he told Phil that he’d done it, and Phil found out that he hadn’t, he’d be dead meat.

  If he told Phil that he’d done it and Terry found out, he’d be dead meat.

  If he told Phil that he hadn’t done it, Phil could burn this place down. Or, worse, he could put his debt up!

  Shaun slapped his forehead again. THINK. But he couldn’t: he was all thought out. Much worse, he realised that his fate could even lie in the hands of whoever was first to walk through the door – Phil Kennedy or the police.

  ‘Thought you were making a brew?’ Carole said, coming in behind him. ‘Bleeding hell, what’s wrong with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘Nothing.’ Shaun pushed past her. He needed time alone again, to think about this new development. ‘I’m going downstairs. We’re late opening up.’

  ‘Charming,’ Carole harrumphed. ‘I’ll make my own bleeding cuppa.’

  Quarter to one. Phil sat in his living room. For hours, he hadn’t wanted to switch on the radio to hear the news. Yet he needed to. If there was no mention of anything untoward, then he’d have to get ready to scarper for a few days. He’d checked his phone half an hour ago. Terry had stopped ringing him shortly after ten. Maybe Steph had stayed out all night and had now got home. Last night at The Potter’s Wheel, he’d only had about twenty minutes with her before she’d disappeared. He’d tried to keep her in the pub but when he’d turned back after getting another drink at the bar, she’d gone. Thankfully, her friend was nowhere to be seen either so he assumed they’d gone home together. Soon after that, he’d cadged a lift home with one of the guys he knew.

  Shaun Morrison didn’t have it in him to do anything, he was sure. And if Steph had come home, he’d be in for it but he didn’t care. He’d rather get a good beating than do any harm to her. And maybe Terry would calm down and the situation would blow over.

  Yet, ultimately it would have landed him in the shit if Shaun had done anything, and he’d have to sort things out pretty quick or else he could wind up dead himself. There would be questions to answer and somehow he couldn’t work out whether he would be around to reply to them. Damn Steph Ryder for getting under his skin. He loved her, the bitch. He cursed himself for it, but it was too late to go back.

  He sat there until five to one. Then he switched on the radio. It was headline news.

  ‘Police are making enquires after the discovery of a body in Brooke Lane, earlier this morning. The woman, believed to be in her late thirties, sustained fatal head injuries. Police are asking anyone who was in the vicinity of Brooke Lane, or at The Potter’s Wheel public house last night, to come forward.’

  Phil frowned. Head injuries? What the fuck…? But realisation that the job had been done turned to grief and he crumbled. Steph was dead? No, he shook his head and walked through into the living room.

  NO!

  His hand swept across the fireplace mantel, knocking off everything in its path. Phil picked up the coffee table and threw it at the wall. He covered his ears with his hands at the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass. Breathing laboured and heart breaking, he stood bewildered. Saliva glistened on his top lip; tears poured down his face.

  She was gone.

  Steph Ryder.

  He didn’t need to wait for the body to be identified. He knew for certain it was her.

  In the middle of the floor of number two, Georgia Road, Phil Kennedy dropped to his knees and he cried.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Lunch time was coming to a close when Allie and Nick arrived at The Orange Grove just after two that afternoon. There was only a table of three diners left seated when they walked in to a welcoming smell of garlic. Allie sniffed longingly. All she’d had since breakfast was a chocolate bar and a packet of crisps from a petrol station on the way there.

  Allie recognised Carole Morrison as soon as she saw her. She stood behind a long counter situated on the back wall of the room. The restaurant had a Mediterranean feel about it: orange and pale cream walls and dashes of vibrant blue. A large, thick wooden table stood lengthways in the centre of the room for parties of up to twenty to sit around. Amongst several tables for two, six booths were set out specifically for smaller groups. The place reminded Allie of a recent holiday she and Mark had taken in Pathos. As creatures of habit they’d chanced on an old style taverna on their second day and gone back there every night for the rest of the week.

  ‘Hi,’ Carole smiled as they approached
her, recalling them both from the charity event. Then her face dropped. ‘Oh, no. Tell me this is pleasure rather than business?’

  Nick showed his ID card. ‘I’m afraid not.’

  Carole quickly joined them, wiping wet hands on a tea towel.

  ‘There’s no easy way of saying this, but your friend, Steph Ryder, has been murdered,’ Nick told her.

  Carole’s mouth dropped open as she looked from the inspector to the sergeant and back to the inspector. She shook her head.

  ‘But she can’t be!’ she said, ‘I was with her last night.’

  ‘She was found in Brooke Lane this morning. What time did you last see her?’

  Carole struggled to get any words out as her mind raced ahead. She steadied herself on an empty table. ‘Around half eleven, I think. What do you mean, she was found? What happened to her?’

  ‘I’m afraid she sustained fatal head injuries, Mrs Morrison.’

  ‘Ohmigod.’ Carole covered her mouth with her hand and sat down. ‘I’ve been ringing her phone all morning and getting no reply. Terry’s not answering either. He sent me a text asking if I knew where she was. I don’t believe it. No, it can’t be true.’

  ‘You say that it was eleven thirty when you last saw her?’

  ‘It must have been around that, I guess. I went to get some fresh air after I felt a bit queasy. I went back in a few minutes later but I couldn’t find her. I – I thought she’d gone home.’

  ‘Without telling you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Carole’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘She’d quite often up and leave if she was drunk. And she’d never remember doing it the following day. I was really annoyed with her last night. I couldn’t believe she’d gone. And I had to pay for a taxi on my own. It costs a small fortune at that time of night.’

  ‘And you came straight home?’ Allie sat down opposite her, opened her notepad and looked over the details she had been given by Terry Ryder. ‘Is that here, too?’

  ‘Yes.’ Absent-mindedly, Carole pointed to the ceiling. ‘We live upstairs.’

  ‘Have you ever taken a taxi back on your own before?’

  ‘Sometimes, yes.’ Carole regained her composure slightly. ‘I don’t like talking ill of the dead but Steph liked her drink and well… I could never keep up. I have a business to run. I can’t stay in bed like she can every morning. Like she could, I mean.’

  ‘What was she like, Steph?’ asked Nick.

  ‘Most of the time she was a good friend. But she was also hard work. She was very demanding, very self-obsessed.’ Carole looked uncomfortable for a moment. ‘Well, you met her. What did you think of her?’

  There was a noise behind them. Shaun approached through a door at the back of the room. He stopped abruptly when he saw the police.

  ‘Shaun, Steph’s been murdered,’ Carole told him quietly before bursting into tears again.

  ‘But you were with her last night.’ Shaun gulped, his eyes flitting everywhere but refusing to land on either Nick or Allie. He shook his head fervently. ‘How?’

  ‘Head injuries.’

  ‘Head…?’ Shaun sounded puzzled. Luckily, before he could slip up, he noticed the three diners getting to their feet. ‘Can I see to them and I’ll be with you in a moment?’

  Once the restaurant was empty of customers, Shaun joined them again.

  ‘What time did you close up last night, Mr Morrison?’ Allie asked.

  ‘The last table went around eleven. No one else had come in since nine. It was a slow night.’

  ‘And you have other staff?’

  ‘Yes, there were five of us last night, with Carole being out. Not that they were needed after all. I gave Stacey – Stacey Richards – a lift home around quarter past eleven.’

  ‘Do you often do that?’ asked Nick.

  Shaun nodded. Allie wrote down the names of the other staff members as he reeled them off too.

  ‘Where does Stacey live?’

  ‘Bagnall Road in Milton.’ Carole sniffed.

  ‘So you would have been on Leek New Road around midnight, after you’d dropped her off?’

  ‘No – no, I was back here by that time.’ Shaun’s eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t think I had anything to do with it?’

  ‘They’re all routine questions for now.’ Allie continued to write in her notebook.

  ‘When you were in The Potter’s Wheel, Carole,’ Nick asked, ‘can you run me through who you spoke to?’

  ‘Oh, I – I was drunk,’ Carole faltered. ‘I still feel queasy from it now. I doubt I can remember a thing.’

  ‘You must remember the beginning of the night, before you had a little too much?’

  ‘Well, yes. Steph met me in here and we had a couple of glasses of wine. Then we moved on to The Tontine, then The Reginald Mitchell, before getting a taxi to The Potter’s Wheel.’

  ‘What time was this?’

  ‘About ten, I think. It could have been a bit later, I’m not entirely sure. When we got there, it was packed.’

  ‘So people must have seen you and Steph together?’

  ‘Of course they must have. I…’ Carole faltered. ‘I can’t remember who we spoke to, who might have seen us. I know the bar staff will have.’

  ‘You can’t remember anyone?’ Nick said sharply.

  Carole shrugged. ‘I told you. I was drunk.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter yet if you can’t remember,’ said Allie. Patience was a virtue in this game, especially when someone was trying their best not to slip up. She could see right through the best-friend-for-life act, even if Nick couldn’t.

  Carole gave a weak smile to show her gratitude.

  ‘No, I don’t suppose it does,’ said Nick. ‘We’ll catch you on CCTV somewhere. You think you were in Wetherspoons until ten, you say?’

  ‘About that.’ Carole began to cry again.

  Allie stood up as Nick nodded his head towards the door. ‘If there’s anything you do remember, Mrs Morrison,’ he stared at her as he handed her a card with his details on it, ‘please ring and let us know.’

  Carole still wouldn’t meet his eye.

  ‘Something dodgy going on there, don’t you think?’ Allie said as soon as they were on the pavement and out of ear shot.

  ‘Yes, she was definitely hiding something,’ said Nick. ‘What’s the betting that Carole Morrison has been having a bit of extramarital fun?’

  Once the police were out of sight, Shaun locked the door and drew down the blind. There was no way they could open up tonight. He’d ring Stacey; she could tell the others not to come in. He checked what bookings they had – five so far. Good job they always took down contact numbers.

  Even though he was trying to stay calm and not alert Carole to anything, halfway through dialling the first number he stopped. ‘What the hell’s going on, Carole?’

  Carole started to cry again. ‘I don’t know. I only went out to get some fresh air and when I came back I couldn’t find her.’

  ‘So she never came after you?’

  ‘I don’t think so – I can’t remember! But if I had seen her, I wouldn’t have come home alone, now, would I? And she – she wouldn’t be dead.’

  ‘Did you try to call her?’

  ‘N – No, I was in a mood with her. You know what she’s like. She’d been harping on at me all night,’ she lied, ‘picking fault as usual so when she sloped off, I just wanted to go home.’

  ‘So you didn’t go and look for her?’ Shaun ran a hand through his hair as he paced the room. ‘And you’re sure you didn’t see her again?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure!’

  ‘Did you see anyone?’

  ‘No! Look, what’s with all the questions?’

  ‘I want to know, that’s all.’ Shaun sat down beside her with a thump.

  ‘Why? You don’t think I had anything to do with it, do you?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Shaun shook his head. ‘I’ve never been more certain of anything. You wouldn’t have the courage.’

  ‘Sometimes
I wished I had.’

  ‘Don’t speak like that.’ Shaun reached for her hand but Carole drew it away.

  ‘Do you think they’ll be back to question us again?’

  ‘I imagine so. They said they wanted to interview the rest of the staff. And I suppose they’ll want more details from me.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I left here at eleven fifteen. I drove Stacey home.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t have gone past The Potter’s Wheel to get to Milton.’

  ‘No, but they don’t know that.’ Shaun wouldn’t meet her eye. How could he tell her that he’d been nearby without arousing suspicion, even if he hadn’t done anything wrong?

  ‘Why would they think that you had then?’

  ‘You heard that sergeant. She said that I would have gone that way.’

  ‘She said you would have been on Leek New Road. She meant somewhere, not outside The Potter’s Wheel. Leek New Road is miles long. Besides, I would have seen you, if you were. Would have been cheaper too, if I had.’ She paused. ‘Why didn’t you ring me? You could have picked me up.’

  Shaun stood up. ‘How the hell was I to know you were coming home? You were staying over at Steph’s, remember?’

  ‘Yes, but –’

  ‘Look, stop going on about it now. You sound as though you’re feeling guilty. Is there something you’re not telling me?’

  ‘No!’ Carole replied, her words coming out quickly and determined. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’

  ‘Me neither.’ Shaun caught her eye for a moment before looking away.

  Carole’s head felt like mush. What had gone on last night when they’d split up? She hadn’t got a clue how long she’d been outside. Had Steph come looking for her? Or had she stayed inside to talk to Phil Kennedy like she often did? Carole wouldn’t put it past him to do something in a fit of temper. He was a real nasty piece of work. But, then again, it seemed to her that he really did care a lot for Steph. On the odd occasions she’d caught them together, they seemed really into each other, despite the fact they weren’t meant to be together.