Death Dance by Geraldine Evans Read Free Book Online Page A

carefully ordered piles. But today, he could detect not the slightest flicker of quickly controlled irritation on his sergeant’s usually inscrutable face. Losing your touch, Rafferty told himself.
    ‘Ah. The cup that cheers. You’re a welcome sight,’ Rafferty told him as he picked up his cup. ‘We’ll get outside of this then head off to the library to check out Kyle Staveley’s alibi.’
    Tea finished, they set off. Rafferty was unsurprised to see that the sunny day had turned grey, with dark clouds threatening rain and a chill wind that had him doing up his jacket. Four seasons in one day: British weather, he thought. It’ll probably snow later.
    The library staff knew Kyle well as he was there most days according to the assistant they spoke to. Mrs Johnson was a middle-aged woman with a kindly demeanour who clearly took an interest in her customers. She had, she told them, been on duty on the day of Adrienne Staveley’s murder and was positive that Kyle had left the library before 4.30.
    ‘He always sits there.’ She pointed to a table near the window. ‘And I noticed he’d gone while I was shelving books.’
    So Kyle’s alibi had fallen at the first hurdle. Why had he lied? And where had he gone when he’d left the library? Had he returned home and killed his hated stepmother? If he had, did his father know? Or had the boy done the deed without his father’s knowledge, either before or after? Either way, they would need to speak to Kyle again and find out why he had lied. But before they did that, Rafferty wanted to speak to the Staveleys’ neighbour.
    The threatened rain duly arrived as they approached the car; they ran for it and reached it without getting too wet and drove out to Lavender Avenue.
    Sarah Jones, the Staveleys’ neighbour, was at home. Her kitchen was a welcoming room, a sunny blue and yellow with pictures in similar hues on the walls. She invited them to sit down and offered tea.
    Rafferty brightened and said, ‘Yes, please.’ Tea, for him, was like another man’s cocaine, and he got through copious quantities every day, so another cup was always welcome.
    Mrs Jones was a vivacious redhead. Luckily, she clearly liked people and took an interest in them. She was a similar age to the dead woman and told them she had been quite friendly with her.
    ‘Did you like Adrienne Staveley?’ Rafferty asked. Apart from Gary Oldfield, he’d yet to speak to anyone who had.
    ‘I like most people,’ she replied, with a smile as sunny as her kitchen. She poured boiling water into the teapot and stirred the teabags before she brought it to the table and took mugs out of the nearest cupboard. ‘And yes, I liked Adrienne. She could be difficult and she didn’t like it that her husband was out of work. Poor man, he felt obliged to walk the streets to get out from under her feet. I often saw him in town, pounding the pavement. I always thought it was a marriage made for the good times, not the bad.’
    ‘You told my officers that a man called Gary Oldfield was a regular visitor to the house. Did you ever meet him?’
    ‘Yes. He was there a couple of times when I popped in to see Adrienne and she introduced us.’ She poured the tea and added milk before pushing the sugar bowl towards them. Rafferty added three spoons.
    ‘And what impression did you get of their relationship?’
    ‘More than friends, was my opinion. You could tell from the way they looked at each other. I got the impression they could barely keep their hands off one another. It made me feel uncomfortable, so I didn’t stay long. Definitely more than friendship.’
    ‘What did you think of Oldfield?’
    ‘As I said, I only met him a couple of times, and for no more than a few minutes on each occasion. But I must say I thought him in love with himself rather than Adrienne. I thought he was just using her and I told her so.’
    ‘What did she say?’
    ‘That they were probably using each other, though I definitely got the