Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

mentor’s leaving party. Out of all her ex-colleagues, she had only been in close contact with her previous sergeant, Ian Peterson, and wasn’t sure how it would feel to return to her old work place and meet her former colleagues on the Kent constabulary. As it turned out, they all seemed pleased to see her and teased her about deserting them for the bright lights of the capital. Ted Carter seemed delighted that she had made the effort to turn up.
    ‘I really appreciate your coming,’ he said, beaming at her over the rim of his glass. ‘I know how busy you must be in London.’

     
    ‘As it happens, we’ve just wrapped up a case,’ she told him, ‘but I wouldn’t have missed this anyway.’
    She waved her hand around to indicate the gathering. ‘Timing is everything,’ he told her and she smiled.
    They both knew she wouldn’t have made it if she had been tied up on a case.
    ‘It’s good to see you, Geraldine.’
    ‘Very good,’ a familiar voice chimed in.
    Geraldine turned to see her former sergeant, Ian, towering over her.
    ‘You saved me a stamp,’ he grinned, reaching into his pocket.
    He pulled out an envelope, only slightly crumpled.
    ‘What’s this?’
    ‘An invitation.’
    ‘Another do?’
    ‘Ian’s not leaving, more’s the pity,’ someone called out.
    ‘No life of freedom for him,’ Ted laughed.
    ‘He can kiss that goodbye,’ another voice added.

     
    Geraldine smiled, understanding that she had been handed an invitation to Ian’s wedding.
    ‘You’re really doing it then?’
    ‘Finally. The wedding’s in December. I hope you can make it.’
    ‘Work permitting.’
    ‘Such commitment,’ he said, shaking his head at her as though her dedication was something shameful.
    ‘That’s why she’s a DI on the Met,’ Ted told him.
    ‘And there I was putting it all down to your brilliant mentoring,’ Ian replied.

     
    Ian put the invitation in her hand. She was pleased to see him looking so happy. Last time they had spoken he had been stressed over his wedding plans. Ignoring an unexpected stab of dismay, she smiled at him.
    ‘I hope it’s all going smoothly now?’
    He shrugged.
    ‘I’m leaving everything to Bev.’
    ‘I’m sure that’s the best thing to do.’
    ‘Yes, except that now she’s complaining I’m not involved. Seems I can’t win.’
    ‘It’ll be fine once you’re married,’ she reassured him.
    She was surprised to see how her words cheered him up. What did she know about marriage?

     
    Although she was pleased for him, as she slipped the envelope in her bag she felt strangely abandoned. They had worked so closely together in the past, it was almost like losing a friend. Of course she knew his marriage wouldn’t make any difference to the way he behaved towards colleagues, and in any case she hardly saw him any more since her move to London. She shrugged the feeling off as several other officers joined them. They all quizzed her about the capital, as though they couldn’t possibly imagine what it would be like to live there.

     
    Geraldine mumbled something about having been too busy to explore London life, which was no exaggeration.
    ‘What with the move, and then I’ve been involved in a couple of tricky cases –’
    ‘Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure,’ someone said.
    Geraldine paused, remembering Ingrid’s frenzied attack, Linda’s despair, and the horrific injuries sustained by Patrick Henshaw, George Corless, Maurice Bradshaw and John Birch.
    ‘I bet they aren’t as friendly on the Met as we are,’ a constable chipped in.
    Geraldine recollected Sam’s spat with Nick after his outrageous comment about a rape victim. “She probably asked for it.” No one spoke like that about Ingrid’s victims, although there was no way of knowing what appalling behaviour on their part had provoked her attacks.
    ‘They’re friendly in a different way,’ she said, shrugging off her troubling memories.

     
    It was strange to return to the camaraderie of her former work colleagues. Looking back on her time in Kent, she realised they had been a close-knit team. Although they hadn’t all been on first name terms, as was the norm in London, they had all known one another. Looked at from outside, the familiar form of address adopted by her colleagues in London seemed superficial. She experienced a fleeting regret at having moved away from Kent.
    ‘So you’re OK in London?’
    Ian was at her side. He always seemed to sense when she was