Free Death Dance by Geraldine Evans

insurance in case we have to cancel.’
    He hadn’t. But he didn’t tell Abra that. ‘Leave it with me, sweetheart. I’ll speak to Nigel.’ As his arrangement with his estate agent cousin, who had a side-line as the agent for various continental villas, had been something of an under-the-counter deal, done quickly and on the cheap, the idea of insurance hadn’t been mentioned by either of them. ‘Don’t keep looking on the black side,’ Rafferty told her. ‘You’ll attract bad luck.’
    Abra pulled a face, but said nothing more and Rafferty made his escape before she had the chance to ask any further unwelcome questions about the non-existent insurance. If it came to it, he’d just have to stump up the money for another honeymoon later on as he couldn’t see Nigel giving him a refund even though they were cousins. Family didn’t count for much with Nigel, unfortunately. Not, that was, unless he got the best end of any deal.
    Rafferty finished his tea and toast and headed for the station with Abra’s words reverberating around his head. He didn’t know how to appease her. The only way would be for him to solve his current case, in double-quick time, and that didn’t look likely at the moment.
    Little new had come in, he found, when he got to work and what little there was, Llewellyn was sorting through, leaving Rafferty to watch and twiddle his thumbs.
    ‘Anything of interest?’ he finally asked after Llewellyn had failed to volunteer any information.
    Llewellyn looked up and shook his head. ‘Bottom of the barrel stuff.’
    ‘You might as well get the teas in, then.’ Rafferty put his hand in his pocket, found a couple of coins and flicked them to Llewellyn.
    Once Llewellyn had gone off to the canteen, Rafferty glanced through the latest reports on the Welshman’s desk. But as Dafyd had said, there was nothing of any interest there.
    Llewellyn came back with the tea and they drank it in silence, Rafferty pondering what to do next. He asked Llewellyn, ‘Have we had anything in yet from the roadside patrol I set up?’ He had organised a roadside survey on the main road nearest to the turn off to the Staveleys’ side road in the hope that someone had seen a car going up there before the murder or returning afterwards. But Llewellyn told him nothing had yet come in.
    Rafferty was fed up with the stalemate situation; he wanted to be up and doing.
    ‘Find out how the super’s secretary is getting on with transcribing Adrienne Staveley’s diary, will you, Dafyd? She must have made a start by now, no matter how demanding the old man is. I told her it was urgent.’
    Ten minutes later, Rafferty had the transcript that had so far been typed. There were some gaps in it and Llewellyn explained them.
    ‘It seems shorthand writers develop their own short forms for some words and the superintendent’s secretary didn’t want to guess and perhaps make a mistake. Also, she said Mrs Staveley’s shorthand must have been a bit rusty as her outlines weren’t always terribly accurate. She says she did the best she could.’
    Rafferty had told Anne, the super’s secretary, to start on the part of the diary that was written in the month before Adrienne’s murder. Adrienne clearly hadn’t been a prolific diary writer: for some days there were no entries at all, and for others just a few lines. But on some dates she had gone in for more detailed entries.
    ‘Listen to this,’ said Rafferty. ‘” Met Mike at the Black Swan and had a great meal. Came back home and had an exhausting sex session. He’s almost as good a lover as Gary. Can’t wait till next week when we meet again .”’ He flipped over the page and said, ‘Here’s another one. “ Gary came over at lunchtime and we went to bed. Two blank hours. He really is very inventive. Great blank and even greater cock ”. Rafferty grinned. Bet the super’s secretary got hot under the collar when she read that.’ The super’s secretary, Anne Amos, was a