Death Bed (20 page)

E
ddy Hart was a bus driver who lived above a row of shops in Kilburn. Geraldine followed Sam up cold stone stairs to a set of doors all crammed together in a row, but no one answered when they rang his bell.

A woman came to the door of the next flat.

‘Yes?’

She stared suspiciously at them. Geraldine held up her warrant card and the neighbour’s eyes narrowed.

‘We’re looking for Eddy Hart. Have you seen him today?’

The woman shook her head.

‘Not today. I haven’t seen him for a while in fact. Is he in trouble?’

‘No, we just want to ask him a few questions about someone he might know.’

Early the next morning Geraldine and Sam went along to the bus garage in Shepherds Bush to check out Stafford’s story.

‘Eddy? I’ve got a feeling he’s off this week,’ one of the drivers told them.

He turned and called to another driver.

‘Oy, Jake. Have you seen Eddy? Eddy Hart?’

The other man shook his head and the first driver turned back to Geraldine.

‘Ask up in the office. They’ll be able to tell you more.’

‘Eddy Hart?’ the woman in the office repeated aggressively. ‘Who’s asking?’

Her attitude altered when she saw Geraldine’s warrant card and was reassured that Eddy wasn’t in any kind of trouble. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector, I thought you’d come to complain about one of the drivers. Not that we get many complaints,’ she added, awkwardly.

‘Now, who was it you wanted to speak to? Eddy Hart. Hang on. I’ll check the rotas. I don’t think he’s been in for a few days. No, that’s right, he’s been off this week on planned leave. Have you tried him at home?’

‘He wasn’t in yesterday evening.’

‘Well if he’s gone away he must be back some time tomorrow because he’s due here Monday morning.’

Geraldine checked what time Eddy was expected on Monday and they left. There was nothing more they could do until the following day.

‘Are you busy this evening?’ Geraldine asked Sam as they parted at the end of the shift.

Geraldine wasn’t surprised to hear that Sam had an arrangement for Saturday evening, but she felt a faint stab of disappointment all the same.

‘Tell you what,’ Sam went on, ‘why don’t you come along? If you’d like to, that is.’

‘Thanks, Sam.’

Geraldine hesitated.

‘I don’t know. I mean, I won’t know anyone and if you all know each other - ’

‘I’m only meeting them for a drink. They’re probably all going clubbing afterwards, but I think I’ll just go along to the pub then call it a day. I’m knackered. Anyway, you can come for a drink and go on out with them later or not, it’s up to you.’

Geraldine nodded.

‘Thanks.’

It would do her good to get out, have a few drinks and take her mind off the case for a while, and sometimes a break helped her to think.

‘I’m starting to feel a bit stale, to be honest,’ she said.

‘I know what you mean,’ Sam agreed. ‘I feel as though I’m just going round in circles with it all.’

‘Exactly.’

They smiled at one another, and Geraldine thought how lucky she was to have a sergeant whose ideas so often coincided with her own. The prospect of spending an evening with Sam and her friends suddenly seemed very appealing, and Geraldine caught herself wondering if Sam’s friends were all in their twenties or whether some of them might be closer to her own age.

Sam was travelling down from Finchley, where she lived, so they arranged to meet at Leicester Square station and go on to the bar together. Geraldine arrived first and stood, mesmerised by the seemingly endless throng of people moving past. The West End on a Saturday night was heaving. Just as she was thinking of calling Sam’s mobile in case she was standing by the wrong exit, the sergeant bounded up to her.

‘Hi! Hope you haven’t been waiting long?’

‘No, I just got here,’ Geraldine answered not quite truthfully.

‘You look great by the way,’ she added and Sam beamed.

Wearing a glittery raspberry-coloured top and heavy makeup, she looked very different to the practical officer Geraldine was growing accustomed to working with, younger and far more glamorous.

‘Come on then,’ Sam said.

The Soho pub was crowded and very noisy.

‘What can I get you?’ Geraldine yelled to Sam.

It took a while to be served at the packed bar, and when she turned round to look for Sam, she saw her colleague surrounded by a group of about ten women who all seemed to be talking at once. There didn’t appear to be any men with them. Geraldine carried Sam’s drink over.

‘This is Geraldine,’ Sam shouted, barely audible above the general racket of music and voices.

As though at a predetermined signal, the whole gang of women suddenly moved in unison towards the door, jostling and chattering at the tops of their voices. Outside, several of them lit cigarettes. It was smoky but at least it was possible to hear one another.

‘Whose birthday is it?’ Geraldine asked Sam when she managed to manoeuvre her way over to her.

‘Wanda!’ Sam shouted and a young woman in tight jeans turned and smiled at them.

‘You haven’t introduced us properly,’ Wanda said, pouting at Sam who laughed.

‘I’m Geraldine.’

She held out her hand but Wanda leaned forward and kissed her warmly on both cheeks.

‘It’s very nice to meet you,’ Wanda said.

‘Watch out, she’s a plain clothes police officer,’ someone called out.

Geraldine felt slightly uncomfortable, although it was clearly intended as a joke; they must all have known Sam was a detective sergeant. Another woman approached Wanda and put her arm around her in a possessive gesture. Geraldine glanced at Sam, who didn’t seem to have noticed. A couple of the other women were holding hands. She turned to look at Sam, engrossed in conversation, and wondered how she had become attached to this particular group of women. She hung around on the edge of the noisy group, clutching her drink and feeling awkward, while the women chatted with the ease of old friends.

Not until they gathered together to move on did Geraldine appreciate the extent of her misunderstanding.

‘Are you coming?’ Wanda asked Sam who shook her head.

‘I would but I’m really tired. It’s been a long day. You have a great evening.’

‘Are you on a case?’

Sam nodded. She and Wanda threw their arms around one another.

‘They used to be together,’ another woman explained to Geraldine. ‘But you’re alright, it’s over now.’

‘She’s a lesbian?’ Geraldine blurted out, staring at the side of Sam’s head.

‘Who, Wanda? Well, what do you think?’

The woman smiled.

‘But I’m telling you, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Sam’s all yours.’

I
t was her day off, so Geraldine had arranged a visit from her sister and niece. Although she would rather have been at work she was relieved that she wouldn’t be seeing Sam that day. She would have preferred to learn about the sergeant’s sexual orientation from Sam herself, but she supposed there was no reason why her colleague should have told her. It had nothing to do with work and their relationship was purely professional. They weren’t even friends exactly, they had only known each other for a few weeks. But Sam’s friend had seemed to think that she and Geraldine were together as a couple and Geraldine felt hot with embarrassment at the idea. Worse, Geraldine wondered whether she might have led Sam on without realising it. New in London, and keen to be friendly, she had been happy to accept Sam’s invitation to go out. She sighed, hoping this wasn’t going to develop into a complicated situation, but she couldn’t sit around fretting about Sam Haley all morning. She had to get ready for Celia and Chloe.

It was the first time Geraldine had received any visitors in her flat and she was excited about showing it off. They were coming round for lunch so she had intended to be up early to tidy and go shopping but she overslept, worn out after her stressful week, and didn’t have much time. Instead of sorting out the papers, books and clothes that had accumulated in her living room, she tossed everything in a washing basket which she shoved in her wardrobe, promising herself she would go through it all that evening after Celia and Chloe had gone. She checked that the photograph of her mother, Milly Blake, was hidden in her bedside drawer where no one could find it.

Having made the flat presentable, she went out to the supermarket to buy what she needed for lunch. Wandering along the shelves she regretted not having planned ahead. Celia was easy to please, but Chloe was a fussy eater and Geraldine hadn’t bothered to check what her niece currently ate. In a sudden panic she tried to call Celia but there was no answer. They must already be on their way.

If she hurried there was just time to roast a chicken with potatoes and prepare a bowl of fresh salad, with a variety of soft fruit to follow: peaches, cherries, strawberries, grapes and kiwi, because she thought Chloe liked fruit. In case she was wrong, she also put several cartons of Ben and Jerry’s in her trolley. She hurried home to prepare the lunch and lay the table and had barely finished when the doorbell rang. The salad was on the table, the chicken in a tray inside the oven surrounded by potatoes which were browning nicely. Geraldine grabbed her keys and ran down to let her visitors in.

‘Why do you keep it locked?’ Chloe asked as Geraldine slammed the high metal gates shut behind them.

‘We just do,’ Geraldine told her. ‘It’s for security.’

‘Why don’t we have a gate like that?’ Chloe asked her mother.

‘Because we don’t live in London,’ Celia answered shortly.

‘This way.’

Geraldine led them across the car park to the door of her block.

‘Why do you keep the door locked when there’s a gate?’ Chloe asked.

‘Stop asking daft questions,’ her mother told her.

‘That’s alright,’ Geraldine said, laughing. ‘The gate’s locked to keep our cars safe. And the door’s locked because it’s the front door. Everyone locks their front door.’

She half expected Chloe to comment when she unlocked the door to her own flat, but her niece just followed her in without a word, sat down and looked around the small square living room. ‘Nice telly,’ she commented. ‘Can we watch?’

‘No,’ Celia answered. ‘We’re here to see Aunty Geraldine and her new flat. It’s lovely, Geraldine. Are we going to get the tour?’

‘Come on, then,’ Geraldine smiled. ‘It won’t take long.’ Chloe jumped up and Geraldine took them from the living room to the kitchen with its small table, and then the bedrooms and bathroom.

‘That’s it! What do you think?’ she asked when they returned to the living room.

‘It’s very nice,’ Celia replied politely.

‘But - ?’

‘But nothing.’

Celia hesitated.

‘It’s immaculate.’

‘You say that as though it’s a bad thing.’

‘No, not at all. But it’s like a show home. I mean, it’s like no one lives here.’

‘Thank you,’ Geraldine said, although she knew Celia hadn’t intended it as a compliment.

‘I’ve just moved in after all, give me time and I’ll manage to clutter it up a bit more.’

They both knew that wasn’t true. Celia had said the same about Geraldine’s flat in Kent.

‘Well I like it,’ Chloe said.

Geraldine smiled.

‘Thank you, Chloe. So do I.’

‘Can I phone Emma?’

‘No,’ Celia answered. ‘It’s rude to phone your friends when you’re in company. We’re here to see Aunty Geraldine. You can speak to Emma when we get home.’

‘But - ’

‘Come on,’ Geraldine said brightly. ‘Lunch is ready.’

Chloe went to the bathroom after they had finished eating and as soon as she left the room Celia began speaking very quickly. ‘Are you alright, Geraldine? I mean, how are you settling in?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure. I mean, I’m pretty tired what with moving and everything, and the case is very time consuming - ’

‘Is it this killer who’s taking his victims’ teeth? It’s been on the news. Is that the case you’re working on?’

‘You know I can’t discuss my cases.’

‘I know. But - ’

Celia glanced anxiously towards the door.

‘That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to ask you - ’

Geraldine felt uneasy, uncertain where this was heading.

‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

She stood up but Celia reached out and put her hand on Geraldine’s arm.

‘Wait. I want to ask you something before Chloe comes back.’

‘Why don’t you call me and we can talk on the phone?’

‘You never answer your phone. Just listen will you?’ Geraldine sat down and they both looked at the door. As if on cue, Chloe came back in.

‘Mum, when are we leaving?’

‘You’ve only just got here,’ Geraldine said.

‘Thank you for lunch, Aunty Geraldine. It was really nice.’

Celia sighed and took her mobile out of her bag.

‘Chloe, why don’t you go in the hall and phone Emma now that we’ve finished lunch?’

‘Yay! Thanks, mum.’

Chloe grinned, grabbed the mobile and ran out into the hall, closing the door firmly behind her. Celia waited and after a moment they heard the faint noise of Chloe’s voice. Celia leaned forward and spoke softly.

‘I wanted to check you’re OK with the news. We haven’t really had a chance to talk.’

‘What news?’

‘About your adoption.’

‘Oh that. I haven’t thought about it much. Haven’t had time,’ Geraldine lied.

She had decided against telling her sister she was searching for her birth mother. Celia had been very close to Geraldine’s adoptive mother. Her grief was still raw, and she might view it as a betrayal of their mother’s memory.

‘Are you sure? You’re not just saying that?’

‘Of course not. Why would I do that? Now, tell me about what’s going on with Chloe before she comes back.’

They chatted for a while and then Celia called Chloe.

‘You’ve been on that phone long enough!’

After a while Geraldine put the kettle on and they sat round the table drinking tea and eating chocolate cake until Celia announced it was time to leave.

Geraldine was slightly ashamed at the relief she felt as she closed the door behind them and slumped on the sofa. Her conversations with Celia were always slightly strained, and she was glad to be alone again. When her phone rang she was pleased to hear the familiar voice of Ian Peterson, the detective sergeant she had worked with in Kent.

‘Thought I’d catch up with you, find out how it’s all going in the big city. I hope they’re keeping you busy?’

His cheery tone lifted her mood and she told him as much as she could about the Palmer Henry case.

‘Sounds like you’re in your element, with a tricky case like that,’ he said when she finished.

Geraldine knew he understood her frustration with an investigation that seemed to be going nowhere, but before she started bellyaching she asked about his fiancee. Ian had announced his engagement just before Geraldine left for London.

‘How’s the wedding plans?’

‘That’s partly what I’m calling about. We’ll be sending out invitations, but I’m ringing round to let people know we’ve fixed a date.’

‘That’s great, Ian. I’ll put it in my diary straight away.’

He sounded so happy she no longer wanted to bleat about her problems.

‘So do you miss us?’ he laughed.

‘Not in the slightest. London’s great,’ she lied, and the conversation drifted back to his wedding arrangements.

‘To be honest, I’m leaving everything to Bev, it’s more her sort of thing. I’d invite you to the stag do, but - ’

She laughed and assured him there was no way she would have accepted. She hoped he didn’t realise that wasn’t true.

After he rang off Geraldine felt a stab of guilt at the realisation that she missed the sergeant more than she missed her sister, but she had worked closely with Ian Peterson and besides, although she and Celia had been raised in the same family they weren’t really sisters. Since she had discovered she was adopted her childhood memories had felt like a sham. Her mother, her father and Celia had colluded in constructing a life for her based on a lie. And now, among all the people she had questioned about the deaths of Jessica Palmer and Donna Henry, at least one person was lying. There were so many lies, and they always led to trouble.

Not that the truth was necessarily easy to face; it was hard to accept that the one blood relative Geraldine knew about didn’t want to see her. She sat down on her bed and took the photograph of her mother out of the drawer.

‘I’ll find you anyway,’ she whispered before putting it carefully away. The photograph was irreplaceable; her only link with her mother.

For now.