Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

everything had gone so horribly wrong. When she had married Patrick, he had been a wealthy man, a self-made millionaire many times over, someone she could respect and admire. She had thought she loved him. She had always understood she was no more than a trophy wife, a beautiful young companion for him to hang on his arm and display, with an obligation to keep herself looking good. She had spent a fortune on make-up and hair products, workouts and yoga. It beat going out to work, and when she wasn’t at the salon or the health club, her time was her own, which was just as well once she met Guy.

     
    And now, after enduring twenty years of loveless marriage, contrary to all her expectations she found herself worse than penniless: she was heavily in debt. She couldn’t understand why Patrick had done this to her. She hadn’t been such a terrible wife. She had known about the restaurant, and it was certainly unfortunate the way things had turned out; it was a gamble that hadn’t paid off. But she had no idea why Patrick had left so much money to an ugly stranger called Stella.

     
    ‘I’m going to contest this,’ she protested. ‘I’m not going to let that woman take my money.’
    ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do about it. I appreciate you may not be happy with the terms of your husband’s will, but it’s a legal document and there are no grounds for challenging it. I’m sorry.’
    ‘But it’s not fair! There must be something you can do.’
    Amy didn’t want to sound petulant, but she had every right to feel outraged, having been cheated of money that belonged to her. Cheated by a complete stranger.
    ‘It must be a mistake. Who is this woman anyway? I’ve never seen her before. I’m his wife. She’s nobody, nothing to us. I don’t even know who she is.’
    The lawyer sat drumming his long fingers on the desk.

     
    Amy had promised to phone Guy as soon as she left the lawyer’s office. There was no reason why he shouldn’t come round to her house now. In preparation for a private celebration, she had left a bottle of champagne in the fridge before leaving home that morning. She knew Guy preferred lager, but she’d had plans to improve his tastes. Now she couldn’t even afford to keep him in beer. After hearing Patrick’s will, she barely managed to reach home before she surrendered to a paroxysm of weeping.

     
    Startled by the phone she sat up, wiping her eyes and pulling her fingers through her hair. Guy’s cheerful voice grated on her nerves. His tone altered when he heard she couldn’t see him.
    ‘What’s up?’ he demanded. ‘You sound terrible.’
    There was a pause.
    ‘Amy, have you been crying?
    She stifled a sob.
    ‘That’s it,’he said, ‘I’m coming round.’
    Amy hung up and ran to the bathroom to press a cold flannel on her swollen eyes and repair her face as best she could with a film of make up. Not only was she destitute, she looked awful.

     
    As she worked on her face she fretted about how Guy would react to the news that she was broke. It was going to take them years to pay off her debts. But as soon as she opened the door and he swept her up in his strong arms she knew that she couldn’t tell him the truth just yet. He had to go on thinking she was wealthy; she couldn’t bear the thought of his leaving her.
    ‘You poor thing,’ he greeted her, stroking her cheek. ‘You’ve had a bad time of it, haven’t you? But it’s over now. Thanks to you he’s never going to bother us again. First thing we’ll do,’ he went on before she had a chance to respond, ‘we’ll take a holiday. How do you fancy going on a Mediterranean cruise? Do you fancy that? Or what do you think about the Seychelles? It’s supposed to be fantastic. A mate of mine went there for his honeymoon. It cost him an arm and a leg but what the heck? We’ve got money to burn!’

     
    He threw his head back, laughing. Amy watched his Adam’s apple move up and down in his sturdy neck and knew she couldn’t risk losing him. Having longed to be free of her husband, it was ironic that the fulfilment of her wish had thrown her into poverty that might drive Guy away. She felt a surge of rage against Patrick. Even after his death he was ruining her life.
    ‘Let’s not rush into anything,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve just lost my husband.’
    She raised her head and smiled to hide her desperation.

CHAPTER 20
     
    I n the light of the DNA detected on Henshaw’s body, there was now