Free Taunting the Dead by Mel Sherratt Page A

cloths draped to the floor over twelve round tables; white serviettes popped out of glasses, denoting the colours of the charity logo as well as their premier football team. At the back of the room, Signal 1, a local radio station, had set up their equipment on the raised area, ready to take over once the ABBA tribute band had performed.
    Allie glanced around, then spotted a hand waving to get their attention.
    ‘There’s Nick,’ she said to Mark. ‘I’ll head over.’
    ‘Suppose I’d better find my team first.’ Mark worked for a major UK bank, one of several sponsors for tonight’s event. He’d been there for twenty-two years – since he’d left university – and for the last five years had been regional commercial manager. He gave her hand a quick squeeze. ‘I’ll catch you in ten.’
    Allie slalomed through the tables to where Detective Inspector Nick Carter and his wife, Sharon, were seated. Wearing a navy blue suit with a pale grey stripe, Nick stood up to his full height of six foot three as she got to them. In his late forties, he was of medium build with the beginnings of middle-aged spread, with blonde hair thinning slightly at the hairline. He wore a genuine smile that reached his hazel eyes as he leaned towards her slightly.
    ‘I made sure we were put on Ryder’s table,’ he whispered. ‘You never know: one of these days, he might please us and slip up.’
    ‘Yeah, right, and all our Christmases will come at once,’ said Allie wryly. She turned to his wife. ‘You look gorgeous, Sharon. Good holiday?’
    While Sharon enlightened Allie about the delights of Hawaii, more and more people came into the room and soon the sound of chatter was heard above the music. Mark joined them minutes later.
    ‘I see we’ve been put on the naughty table.’ He shook hands with Nick before pulling out a chair. ‘To what do we owe this displeasure?’
    Before anyone had a chance to say anything, a ripple of applause started and guests began to stand as it reached them. Allie got to her feet but she didn’t clap. Mark did. Hypocrite, she mouthed at him.
    Terry and Steph Ryder stepped into the ballroom as if the toastmaster had announced the arrival of a bride and groom. A frisson of heat passed through Allie as she caught a glimpse of Terry in his black dinner suit, the cut giving away its expensive price. The white scarf hung strategically around his neck finished off the look of cool. For many of the people present, she was sure he lit up the room far more than his wife.
    Steph Ryder, gripping onto her husband’s arm, wore a red floor-length dress, the provocatively high side split revealing tanned and toned legs – Allie spied the black strappy shoes and made a note to compliment Mary Francis if they had been her choice. Over the strapless, sequinned bodice Steph wore a white fur shrug, matching gloves completing the perfect Christmas outfit.
    ‘Good evening, everyone,’ Terry greeted as he glided over with his wife. As introductions were made, a couple rushing in behind them scurried to their seats, the woman stopping to give Steph a quick kiss before checking place settings and plonking herself down.
    ‘Sorry we’re late.’ She held a hand to her chest as she caught her breath. ‘Haven’t missed anything, have we?’
    ‘Only our grand entrance,’ Steph replied stonily before sitting down across the table from Allie.
    Allie frowned slightly at Steph’s tone. She couldn’t believe it when Terry introduced the late couple as close friends. She watched as the woman, Carole Morrison, lowered her eyes and fussed in her handbag. She was plump with brown hair, deep red lipstick looking bold but striking teamed with the short, black dress she was wearing. Her husband, Shaun, looking uncomfortable in his suit, sat with a thump. His fair hair was still wet at the collar and he wore a scowl. Allie caught his eye and he gave her a nearly-there smile. Great , she thought, someone who doesn’t want to be