Death Dance by Geraldine Evans Read Free Book Online Page B

impression that Adrienne cared more for him than he did for her.’
    ‘Thank you.’ Rafferty finished his tea, got up and fished a card out of his pocket. ‘If you think of anything else, perhaps you’ll ring me?’
    ‘Of course.’
    Sarah Jones showed them out. They got in the car and headed for the home of Mrs Staveley Senior to question Kyle as to why he’d lied to them.
    Unfortunately, when they got there it was to learn that Kyle had returned to school that morning. Rafferty didn’t want to haul the boy out of his class to question him. If he was being bullied, as Rafferty thought likely, such an action would only tend to make him more vulnerable to being picked on. The interview would wait till later.
    John Staveley seemed distracted. He was upset that they wanted to speak to his son again and wanted to know why.
    Rafferty was straight with him. ‘Kyle lied to us, Mr Staveley. He wasn’t at the library any later than 4.30. Do you know where he went?’
    Staveley shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea. But I’m sure he wasn’t killing his stepmother if that’s what you think. My son is a studious boy, not a violent one.’
    Fortunately, Mrs Staveley Senior was out, so they were spared her interruptions during the short time they spent at the house.
    Rafferty told John Staveley he could return to his home whenever he wished as the Scene of Crime team had finished their work. He handed back the house keys. ‘We’ll leave you to get on with your day.’ Wanting to know where the Staveleys would be, he asked, ‘Will you be moving back home later today?’
    ‘I expect so.’
    ‘Tell your son we’ll be along this afternoon to talk to him. Tell him also, please, that we don’t want to hear any more lies.’
    Rafferty drove and they made for the station, but he stopped off in the High Street, outside his cousin Nigel’s estate agency. ‘I’ve just got to pop in and see my cousin about our honeymoon villa,’ he told Llewellyn. ‘I won’t be long.’
    Llewellyn protested, as Rafferty had expected he would, as he had parked on a double yellow line. But Rafferty told him not to be such an old woman and slammed the car door on his protests.
    Nigel was in his office, looking his usual immaculate self with his hair groomed to within an inch of its life. The outer room was deserted. No clients and no staff were in evidence.
    ‘It’s quiet here,’ Rafferty commented. ‘Is the downturn hitting you so badly?’
    Nigel shrugged his sharp-suited shoulders. Today, he was in midnight blue. ‘I’m getting by. I’ve had to let a couple of the staff go. The rest are at lunch.’
    ‘I came in to pay the remainder of the money due on the honeymoon villa.’
    Rafferty and Abra were renting a villa from Nigel’s management company for their honeymoon. Nigel had branched out into managing foreign villas the previous year, and had, surprisingly, given Rafferty a good deal. Rafferty had had a few qualms about booking the honeymoon with Nigel, but the deal was too good to pass up.
    Rafferty pulled out his wallet and extracted his debit card. Nigel ran it through the machine after checking what was still owed on the booking.
    ‘Thanks for that, coz,’ said Nigel, as he handed over the credit card receipt.
    ‘Don’t go using it to pay the staff wages,’ Rafferty warned, only half joking.
    ‘As if. It’ll go to the clients once I’ve taken my cut.’
    ‘I’ll want a written receipt, too.’ Rafferty knew Nigel of old and liked to get confirmation that he’d paid full wack. Like the rest of the family, Nigel Blythe – who, before he had decided that a name-change to a more up-market moniker was indicated, had been called Jerry Kelly – didn’t fight shy of the odd underhanded shenanigans if he thought he could get away with it.
    Nigel sniffed and drew back a little at this implied slur on his good character But while he might effect a hurt demeanour, Rafferty was happy to see him pull a receipt pad from the top