Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

others. Even when I knew he was messing me around I didn’t finish it straight away because you keep hoping, don’t you? I didn’t want anything more to do with men after that, only then George turned up and he was different, a real gentleman, treated me nice and – he was kind to me.’

     
    ‘How did you meet?’
    ‘He just bought me a drink when I’d finished my act, and we started talking –’
    ‘Finished your act? Are you a dancer then?’
    ‘Like a pole dancer, you mean? God no, nothing like that. Look at me! I haven’t got the figure for it. No, I’m a singer. Desiree. I used to do gigs all over the place, where I could, and that’s how I met George, when I was singing at the restaurant one night. It was pouring and I’d forgotten to take a coat so he offered to give me a lift home. He was kind like that –’

     
    Without warning Desiree burst into tears again. Geraldine felt sorry for the girl who was barely more than a child, but needed to press on with her questions.
    ‘Is there a friend, or a family member, who can come here to be with you tonight?’
    Desiree shook her head and blew her nose noisily.
    ‘No, I’ll be alright. I’ll phone my sister.’
    Geraldine waited while Desiree made a tearful call.
    ‘She’s coming straight over. You don’t need to wait, I’ll be OK. She’ll be here soon.’

     
    Amanda Corless lived in Bexley, on the outskirts of South East London near the Kent border. The journey was likely to take an hour, even on a Sunday, so Geraldine set off as soon as she could. Although George and his wife hadn’t been living together for three years, they were still married; nominally George, his wife and their two children had remained a family. His son and daughter had both left home and were no longer financially dependent on him. Nevertheless, he had continued to treat them generously, perhaps because he had left their mother when they were both in their late teens.

     
    It was easy to see that George had a ‘type’ as soon as Geraldine set eyes on Amanda Corless. The woman who opened the door had voluptuous curves now run to fat, and shoulder length, unnaturally blonde hair. It was almost like looking at an older version of Desiree, but where the young woman’s blue eyes were trusting, Amanda’s were shrewd and wary.
    ‘What do you want?’
    She glared at Geraldine who introduced herself.
    ‘May I come in, Mrs Corless?’

     
    Amanda made no move to admit her.
    ‘Why? What’s this about?’
    ‘It’s about your husband.’
    ‘George? Listen, I’ve no idea what he’s done and I don’t want to know either. Whatever it is, it’s nothing to do with me. He doesn’t live here any more. You’ll have to speak to him. Leave me out of it. I can give you his address if you want.’
    ‘Thank you, Mrs Corless. We have his details.’
    Geraldine took a deep breath.
    ‘Mrs Corless, I’m here to tell you that your husband is dead.’
    ‘Dead?’
    Geraldine nodded.
    ‘Now may I come in?’
    ‘No, I don’t want to hear about it. He’s caused me enough grief.’
    She frowned and took a step back, raising a hand to close the door.
    ‘We’re not together any more, so what makes you think I’d give a toss? Go and tell his whore. See if she cares. I don’t. Why should I? He walked out on me for some tart and now –’
    She broke off, her lips trembling.
    ‘Leave me alone.’

     
    Geraldine insisted she needed to ask a few questions. Amanda seemed shocked to hear that her husband had been murdered, but she insisted she was unable to help the enquiry into his death.
    ‘You can’t think of anyone who might have wanted to harm your husband?’
    ‘What? George? No. I mean, I was mad at him, of course, when he walked out on me for some young floozy.’
    She laughed, her expression bitter.
    ‘I could have killed him then, alright, and the kids were mad at him too for what he did. But that’s all over and done with. I don’t have anything to do with him any more but he still sees the children. At the end of the day he is their father.’

     
    Geraldine waited and Amanda drew a sharp breath.
    ‘He was a selfish bastard and he walked out on me. So what? Am I supposed to fall apart now he’s dead?’
    She shrugged.
    ‘I finished crying over that bastard years ago.’
    She made to close the door, her eyes glittering with repressed fury, or tears, it was impossible to discern which.
    ‘All of this has nothing to do with me and, if you must know, he