16

Having wept helplessly for half an hour, Geraldine pulled herself together, showered, and made herself some dinner. By the time she finished eating, she was feeling calmer. On reflection, it seemed to her that the odds were stacked against Ian taking Bev back. For a start, the baby was probably not his. It was far more likely that the real father was Bev’s boyfriend in Kent, and that he had only been interested in a casual affair. Not ready for any serious commitment, he had most likely tired of being saddled with a crying baby, and either he had asked Bev to leave, or else she had stormed off in a rage. Whatever the reason for the break-up, she had gone running back to Ian, hoping to find refuge with him. Geraldine couldn’t blame Bev for seeking a secure home for herself and her baby, but she should never have lied to Ian over something as important as the identity of her baby’s father. That level of deceit was unforgivable.

Even if the baby did turn out to be Ian’s, his marriage to Bev must still be over. How could he live with her as his wife again, knowing he could never trust her? It was unthinkable that he would take her back, however beautiful she was. Plenty of fathers didn’t live with their children full-time. And if discovering he had fathered a child was no reason for him to resurrect his marriage, then it need not prevent him from resuming his relationship with Geraldine. So she resolved to be optimistic. If her hopes were ultimately disappointed, she told herself she would be no worse off than she had been before Ian moved in with her. But she knew that wasn’t true. Her disappointment was already sharper than a physical pain, and no doctor could prescribe a palliative for this suffering.

Lying in bed later that night, she was unable to sleep. Thinking about everything Ian had said, she was startled when her phone rang. Hardly daring to hope he was calling to say he was on his way back to her, she answered. Her disappointment was fierce when she heard a constable speaking to her from the police station.

‘To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether to call you,’ he said, ‘but the duty sergeant said you went to see David and Anne Armstrong earlier, so we both thought you’d be the best person to speak to her, even though it’s late.’

‘What’s this about?’ she asked. ‘You do know it’s past midnight?’

Despite her snappy response, Geraldine was pleased to be given something to take her mind off her own disappointment.

‘We had a call from Anne Armstrong,’ the constable explained. ‘We thought you might want to know, seeing as you’ve seen them and spoken to them about their missing granddaughter.’

‘What does she want at this hour?’ Geraldine asked, with a sudden hope that the baby had turned up.

‘She said her husband went out to the car wash five hours ago and never returned, and she’s worried something’s happened to him. She’s tried his phone repeatedly, but he’s not answering.’

‘The car wash?’ Geraldine repeated, not yet catching the drift of the call. ‘So this isn’t about the missing baby?’

‘No, it’s nothing to do with the baby. At least, I don’t think it is. She called to say her husband went out to the car wash and he never came home.’

‘Very well,’ Geraldine said. ‘Leave it with me for now.’

‘Yes, Sarge. Thank you.’

Geraldine should have been thanking the constable for offering her a distraction from her own thoughts. She was too distressed to sleep much that night anyway. First she phoned around the traffic police and the local hospitals, but she could find no trace of David having been involved in a car accident. It was gone two o’clock by the time she finished, but she had not heard that David had turned up, so she called Anne who confirmed that her husband had still not come home. Geraldine offered to go round to the house, and Anne agreed straight away.

‘I’m just so worried,’ Anne said. ‘After everything that’s happened, do you think he might have been attacked again? This time they may not have used eggs. What if he’s been stabbed? He only went out to the car wash. Why hasn’t he come home? Something must have happened to him.’

Urging Anne to remain calm, Geraldine set off, and before long she pulled up outside the Armstrongs’ house. There were two cars parked in the drive. A quick check confirmed that one belonged to Anne, the other to David. Whatever had happened to him, he had either driven home from the car wash, or else had not left home at all. Geraldine got out of her car and closed the door gently so as not to disturb the neighbours at half past two in the morning. Walking up the drive in the faint moonlight, she almost tripped over a body lying across the path.

She had found David.

Crouching down, she could discern no vital signs. Talking on her phone before she had fully straightened up, she reported the discovery and decided to wait for the assessment team before informing Anne that her husband was lying on her doorstep, dead.

‘Do you want to request the assessment team?’ the officer on duty asked when Geraldine spoke to him.

‘Yes, the likelihood is he died from natural causes, but he’d been receiving death threats so we need to take a closer look before moving the body.’

After the hate mail and the attack on his car, there was a strong chance the councillor had been murdered.

‘I can’t see much out here because there’s very little light from the street,’ she added. ‘All I’ve got is my torch. In any case, we need a medical examiner to check him over and that can’t wait till the morning.’

‘Very well, I’ll get things in motion.’

Geraldine squatted down beside the prone figure to wait for the homicide assessment team, and within ten minutes her colleagues arrived.

‘I’ll go in and talk to the widow,’ Geraldine said.

Anne opened the door as soon as Geraldine rang the bell.

‘Thank goodness you’re here,’ she said. ‘I’ve been going out of my mind with worry.’

‘Let’s go inside where we can talk more comfortably,’ Geraldine replied quietly.

Geraldine had frequently spoken to those close to a murder victim while they were still ignorant of the devastating knowledge. Probably the most difficult part of Geraldine’s job was sharing such news. What made this death particularly macabre to report was that Anne’s husband was lying right outside her house. Hoping to guide Anne back into the house, Geraldine repeated her suggestion and took a step forwards. As she did so, the homicide assessment team vehicle reached them, and a medical officer arrived.

Anne looked startled. ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded. ‘What are all those cars doing out there?’

‘Shall we go inside?’

‘No, no, I want to know who all those people are. What are they doing on the path? Please, tell them to leave.’

‘Not yet,’ Geraldine replied. ‘Those are police officers and they’re here doing their job. I have some difficult news for you. Shall we go in and sit down?’

‘No, no, what’s happened? Tell me what’s happened.’

Geraldine would have preferred to talk to Anne when they were both sitting down indoors rather than standing on the doorstep, but there was no help for it.

‘I’m afraid your husband’s dead,’ she said softly.