Death Dance by Geraldine Evans Read Free Book Online

hours between meals.’
    ‘I would normally, it’s just that there’s always so much to do at the beginning of a case. And then, this evening, I spent time on my wedding speech.’
    ‘I hope you said some nice things about me.’
    ‘You bet. Trouble is, it left me precious little to say about the bridesmaids.’
    ‘Never mind about the bridesmaids,’ Abra joked. ‘Concentrate on your wife-to-be and you won’t go far wrong.’
    They stacked the dishwasher, and then settled down on the settee with a glass of Jameson’s whiskey each.
    ‘So, how are you getting on with your latest murder?’ Abra asked as she curled up on the settee beside him and sipped her drink. ‘You’d better get it solved before the wedding. I don’t want to arrive at the church to discover there’s no groom waiting for me. I’ll do murder myself if that happens.’
    Rafferty had rung her that afternoon to tell her he’d be late home. He’d given her brief details of the murder then. ‘It’s early days,’ he told her. ‘Though it’s clear Adrienne Staveley’s killer was known to her as there were no signs of a break in and the spy-hole in the front door allowed her to check who was knocking.’
    ‘Strangulation. What a horrible way to die. Imagine staring into the face of your killer while they choked the life out of you.’
    ‘Yes, it’s pretty gruesome.’ Rafferty took a sip of his own whiskey. ‘It was fortunate that her teenage stepson didn’t find her. It would have been a horrible experience for an impressionable lad.’
    ‘As long as he didn’t kill her. Perhaps it was a case of the Wicked Stepmother syndrome.’
    ‘There’s always that. But let’s talk about something else. I have enough to do with violent death all day; I’d rather not have it all night as well.’
    ‘Okay. Oh, I forgot to tell you, the caterers rang. They wanted final confirmation of numbers. Nobody’s cancelled, so I gave them the confirmation. The wedding seems to have crept up on us. Imagine, only three weeks to go till the big day when I’ll be Mrs Rafferty. Mrs Joseph Aloysius Rafferty.’
    ‘I wish you’d forget the Aloysius bit. I do my best to.’
    ‘How can I? It’s too delicious for words and gives me something permanent that I can tease you about.’
    ‘I see. I’m not going to hear the end of it then?’
    Abra grinned. ‘Not likely. I may even take to calling you Ally for short. Just don’t get on my wrong side.’
     
     
    The next morning Rafferty was up bright and early. He brought Abra a cup of tea and a couple of rounds of toast and made himself some cereal and toast before he set off for work.
    It was a lovely, sunny day. It made him feel quite jaunty. Traffic was light and he reached the station in no time. Whistling, ‘ I’m Getting Married in the Morning’ , he parked up and headed for his office.
    Llewellyn wasn’t behind his desk when he got there and Rafferty guessed he was in the canteen getting their usual morning tea. He shuffled through the reports that Llewellyn had stacked neatly on his desk, leaving them in a disorderly pile. Today, he wanted to check out Kyle Staveley’s claim that he had been studying at the library during the time his stepmother was killed. He also wanted to talk to the Staveleys’ neighbours. Mrs Jones had already been helpful in providing the information about Gary Oldfield’s regular visits to the victim. Maybe, if he asked the right questions, there were other things she would be able to tell them.
    Llewellyn pushed the office door open then, bearing two steaming cups of tea. His gaze automatically went to Rafferty’s desk as he entered.
    This was turning into something of a ritual between them. Sometimes, Rafferty untidied his desk deliberately just to amuse himself, so he could put his detecting skills to the test. It wasn’t something he indulged often; he was naturally untidy, so it wasn’t as if he had to go out of his way to create chaos out of Llewellyn’s