Definitely Dead by Kate Bendelow (howl and other poems TXT) 📕

sudden ring of the doorbell startled her, and she darted up off the bed. She felt a mixture of exhilaration and dismay. He was far too early, and she was nowhere near ready. She wanted to be made up for him and dressed, ready in her new lingerie when he arrived. She knew the corset and suspenders would take his breath away and she grew wet at the thought of how he was going to respond when he saw her all dressed up.

She pushed guilt-ridden thoughts of Piotr to the back of her mind. She knew what she was doing was wrong. Piotr had been the love of her life for a while, but not anymore. She didn’t even know at what point she’d stopped loving him. It had just happened. And now? This new fledgling relationship was so wrong, but it felt so right. She knew it was such a cliché and knew the taboo of what she was doing was unthinkable in their world. Unforgivable even. But she couldn’t stop herself. God knows she’d tried.

Still wrapped in the bath towel, she dashed to the door like an excited child; her face a mask of sheer exhilaration and pleasure. She pulled back the security chain and swung the door open.

‘All right, darlin’?’ Donnelly’s face was plastered with a huge smile as he stood on the doorstep clutching a bottle of wine, chocolates and a huge bouquet of flowers.

29

Maya had finished her day shift and was crossing the car park when she spotted Chris. She knew he’d been in court all day and was keen to hear the outcome. He had been conversing with DI’s Redford and Mitton and had waved the pair off when Maya joined him.

‘Hey, how did court go?’

‘Not too bad thanks, love. The defence were trying to get me to interpret the blood spatter on my scene photographs. I kept telling them that was a job for a biologist. They tried to lead me a few times, probably hoping I’d trip myself up, but I didn’t take their bait.’

‘Were you nervous?’

‘Shitting meself! I think I was more nervous than the defendant. I always am when I’m in court. Still, talking to the bosses just then, we think it’s going to go our way. He’s looking at about fifteen years.’

‘Nice one, Chris.’

‘Can’t wait to get home and have a pint and a takeaway. I can’t be bothered cooking for myself tonight. Are you off home?’

‘Yeah, it’s been busy while you’ve been sipping lattes outside court.’

‘Cheeky sod.’

‘Hey, can I ask you something? About the Jim Baron job?’

‘Tony picked that one up.’

‘I know. It’s just that I was chatting with my mum about it the other day. She was the community nurse who found him and called us.’

‘And?’

‘Well, she mentioned that she thought it was strange that Baron was on the floor and his nebuliser and stuff hadn’t been touched…’

‘Oh, Maya, please stop.’ Chris ran his hand across his face, sighing. ‘Haven’t you learnt anything from the warnings Kym has already given you?’

‘Yes… but…’

‘No, Maya. You know I like you, but you’re even starting to get on my nerves with all this. You’ve still got the Wainwright business hanging over your head, and now you want to cast fresh aspersions about Jim Baron’s death?’

‘I’m sorry, Chris. I just can’t shake the feeling off that something’s wrong. It’s like when we were at Gorman’s house…’

‘You’re questioning that now?’ Chris laughed, incredulous. ‘You were at the scene and the PM. You know there was nothing suspicious about that job.’

Maya sighed, exasperated at not being understood. ‘I know on the surface it looks that way. But I can’t ignore this feeling I got at that scene… and there was something about Celeste Warren’s suicide note…’

‘Well, I suggest you try ignoring your feelings before you completely alienate yourself from everyone in the office. No offence, love, but I’m off. It’s been a long day.’

Maya’s heart sank as she watched Chris stride across the car park. She really wished she’d not said anything. She realised she should have spoken to Tony about it rather than Chris. Once again, she cursed herself for her stupidity and lack of thought.

She suspects far too much. She could make things exceedingly difficult for me and I’m not going to let that happen. She needs to learn to mind her own business. If I have to shut her up, I will.

30

Geoffrey Doran sucked in the cool summer air greedily. A breeze tickled his forehead, cooling the perspiration that slathered his face and neck. He had been sat in the hot, cloying living room for three hours. He felt bilious after endless cups of tea and stale custard creams. Still, it had been worth it. The doddering old woman had happily handed him 20,000 pounds in cash. He had taken great care to wash his cup, kissed her papery cheek goodbye and assured her he would be back the following day to take her to the garden centre for lunch.

Bullshit. Being the unscrupulous bastard he was, he laughed as he pictured her clutching her empty handbag on her bony lap. He could imagine her gazing out the window, rheumy-eyed. Her wispy white hair covering her egg-shell skull. He knew the longer she waited, the reality of what she had done would start seeping in. Would she cry when she realised? Hopefully. Undoubtedly. Meanwhile, he would be moving on to the next victim he had lined up. An old boy from Stockport, who he knew had more money than sense.

Geoffrey had been conning the elderly for decades. He had started his criminal career by using many guises such as the bogus builder or ‘water board’ official, to Jehovah’s Witness, Christian Aid or the volunteer from Help the Aged. Many years ago, he had fallen foul of DNA profiling. A saliva swab taken from a drinking glass he’d used while conning a couple out of 25,000 pounds had resulted in him serving a hefty prison sentence. During his