Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

the words below the photograph but it was impossible to read the text across the carriage as the page trembled with the bumping of the train. All she could distinguish was the headline: ‘Police Hunt Killer.’ Passengers shuffled along the packed carriage obstructing her view of the newspaper. She shifted sideways in her seat but by the time the paper reappeared in her line of vision the commuter had turned the page.

     
    Gripped by a sense of urgency she scanned the carriage but there weren’t any other papers in sight so she stayed where she was, fretting with impatience. Reaching her station she hurried out onto the street, bought a paper at the nearest newsagent and stood on the street reading, oblivious of the light rain that began to fall, spattering the newspaper in her hands while she skimmed through the report. A smile spread slowly across her thin lips as she read how he had been found, dead, in his car. Justice had been done. She hoped he had suffered.

     
    She reread the article, wondering how much the police knew. They weren’t to be trusted. They were asking if anyone had seen the victim on the night he was killed, but they knew a lot more than they let on. Reading the report once more, she tried to work out what it meant. The police were making out they didn’t know who the killer was. That might be true, but they could be lying. Either way, she had no intention of admitting anything. She had more than seen him, she had felt his sweaty hands on her face and the weight of his body on hers, smelt his foul breath. For a second she was back in his car, struggling helplessly. And now he was dead. It served him right. Death was too good for him.

     
    Someone bumped into her, startling her from her reverie. A middle-aged woman was peering at her and she realised she was standing in the middle of the pavement in the rain. Without answering she turned on her heel and walked off. Passing a litter bin she tossed the paper away, barely pausing in her stride. She wouldn’t help the police hunt down whoever had killed that monster. It was raining more heavily now and she pulled up her collar, cursing herself for coming out without an umbrella.

     
    Hurrying home, she had a hot shower before switching on the television. His face was there on the news, while a round-faced policeman appealed for witnesses to come forward. Like the newspaper reporter, he said a woman had been with the victim on the evening he died. The police were asking her to come forward to help them with their enquiries. She smiled. If the police had any idea who they were looking for, they would have been dragging her down to the cells, not issuing vague appeals for information. They didn’t have a clue.

     
    He had got what he deserved, that night in the car. One thing was for sure, the woman who had been with Patrick Henshaw on the night he died was never going to share what she knew with the police. If they wanted to expose his killer, they would have to do it without her help. She was free of him now, and she intended to stay that way.

CHAPTER 24
     
    R eg Milton was up to speed with all the reports entered on the system and he was now ready to pump Geraldine and her sergeant who had been out asking questions of anyone involved in the case. The public, interested only in results, had no idea of the hours of work that underpinned a murder enquiry, or that the occasional unsuccessful investigation represented months and sometimes years of painstaking and dedicated police work. Even though they usually got a result in the end, everyone on the team lived in fear of being responsible for allowing a killer to walk free, possibly endangering more lives. None more so than Reg who was in charge of the investigation.

     
    It was time to share ideas and impressions. They were all aware that they could throw ideas around endlessly, but in the absence of proof it was ultimately pointless. He sighed as he opened the door to the Incident Room. At least they had several lines of enquiry going. So often in a murder case they struggled to point the finger at anyone, but in this instance there was more than one suspect and Reg listened intently to the members of his team as they endeavoured to fit all the pieces together.

     
    Geraldine had been questioning Henshaw’s business partner. It was understood that George Corless had a lot to gain from Henshaw’s death.
    ‘He certainly needed the money,’ Geraldine said. ‘His finances were in a hell