Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

about what to do with her day. On the dot of eight thirty the housekeeper, Christina, arrived. Amy checked her diary. She had a busy afternoon with a hair appointment booked at two, followed by a manicure and a facial. Later on she would see Guy. But today wasn’t a usual day. She couldn’t face the inane chatter of her hairdresser and manicurist so she phoned and cancelled her appointments, saying she had a migraine. Since meeting Guy she had become an accomplished liar, she thought with a rueful smile.

     
    After checking automatically that Christina was carrying out her tasks satisfactorily, Amy took a stroll around the garden and decided she should call Patrick’s mobile. He didn’t answer. She watched a bit of television, picked up a magazine, but couldn’t settle to anything. The later it got the more agitated she became, wondering what to do. Finally she pulled her phone out of her bag and punched in Guy’s number.
    ‘Come on, come on, pick up, please pick up.’
    She was close to tears by the time she heard Guy’s voice.
    ‘Hallo? Is that you, Amy? Amy?’
    ‘Oh Guy, Guy –’
    ‘Amy? What’s wrong? Amy? Are you all right?’
    ‘I’m fine. It’s nothing like that. I haven’t seen him today. He hasn’t been home. I don’t think he came home at all last night.’
    ‘Thank Christ for that.’
    ‘No, no, you don’t understand.’
    She was almost hysterical.
    ‘I’m scared something might have happened to him. I’m really scared, Guy.’
    ‘What do you mean? Amy? What are you talking about? There’s nothing to worry about.’
    ‘But what if… what if he followed me? What if he knows where you live? What if –’

     
    Guy interrupted her, forcing a loud laugh.
    ‘Don’t be daft, Amy. What could possibly have happened to him?’
    ‘I don’t know, but –’
    ‘He’s bound to be fine. Tell you what, let’s make the most of it. I’ll say I’m feeling rough and go home and you can come round. What do you say?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Come over now. Or we could meet somewhere if you like. Go out together.’

     
    They had only ever been to Guy’s rooms since their affair began. Amy was too nervous to meet Guy in public in case anyone saw them.
    ‘You know we can’t, Guy. It’s too risky,’ she protested.
    ‘Maybe it’s time we started taking a few risks,’ he replied testily. ‘I’m sick of all this having to hide away all the time. Look I didn’t mean meeting anywhere public.’
    ‘What then?’
    ‘I’m not suggesting we parade up and down outside your house arm in arm.’
    She giggled.
    ‘But why don’t we go to a posh hotel in London? Meet in a nice bedroom for a change. What do you say?’
    She was tempted, excited by his eagerness.
    ‘Where were you thinking of?’
    There was a pause and Amy realised he probably didn’t know any decent hotels.
    ‘I’ll book a room, shall I, and text you the details?’ she suggested.
    ‘Great. I’d do it but I’m still at work. It’s awkward.’
    Hearing the relief in his voice it occurred to her that he had never booked a room in a hotel, an uncomfortable reminder that she was seventeen years older than him, old enough to be his mother.
    ‘Leave it to me,’ she said.

     
    Amy booked the hotel and texted Guy to meet her there after lunch. Then there was nothing to do but wait for the cleaner to finish. She sat in the conservatory leaning against the high curved back of a bamboo chair. Gazing at the arched windows and brilliant white frames, she remembered when the construction had been installed. She had noticed one of the builders straight away, his muscles tensed beneath a damp white T-shirt stretched taut across his back. When he’d turned unexpectedly their eyes had met in a flicker of mutual interest. Amy had been nearly forty then, but she took good care of herself and there was no doubt the young man had looked at her with significant intensity. Amy had looked away first but not before his eyes had registered a hot blush that spread over her cheeks. After that first silent exchange she had kept an eye out for the young labourer, seizing on the first opportunity to offer him a cold beer. Dazed and terrified, she wasn’t sure whether to hope he would realise that a beer wasn’t all she wanted to offer him. The danger somehow added to her excitement, and when he made his first tentative advance she had found him irresistible.

     
    She went up to her dressing room to decide what she was going to wear for her