money.’
‘Perhaps he was bored,’ Reg suggested. ‘So his wife’s twenty-five years younger than him which would make her forty. He was more than double her age when he married her.’
‘Yes, she’s forty. She must be a very wealthy woman now.’
Sam broke in briskly.
‘Which makes it more likely it’s a crime of passion, something to do with his wife. Why else would the killer have been so violent? And if she’s inherited a fortune –’
Reg turned to her with a nod to indicate he was listening.
‘I don’t think we should be writing Keith Apsley off just yet. I think he might somehow be involved in it.’
Eagerly she outlined the reason for her suspicion, the body having arrived outside Keith Apsley’s house just when his wife was away.
‘It just seems a bit of a coincidence. It’s possible Keith Apsley was having an affair with Amy Henshaw. What if he killed her husband so they could get his money?’ she concluded triumphantly.
‘We’re not ruling anything out for now,’ Reg replied. ‘Not until we know more about what happened, but I agree it sounds as though Apsley might be implicated.’
‘You haven’t even spoken to him,’ Geraldine pointed out.
‘As I said, I’m not ruling anything out just yet,’ he repeated, a trifle sharply.
He considered Sam’s suggestion. On the face of it, the idea seemed reasonable. It was certainly an odd coincidence, a man’s body appearing outside the Apsleys’ garage just when Keith’s wife was away. But Geraldine’s explanation was equally plausible. He had only worked with her on one case, but her gut feeling then had proved spot on. He wondered if that had just been luck, or if she was one of those rare officers who possessed an uncanny instinct for the truth. There was no doubt she had an impressive track record.
‘Well,’ he concluded. ‘We’ll keep our minds open and carry on. See what we can find out.’
CHAPTER 12
G eraldine was annoyed that Reg had taken Sam’s theory seriously. Reg hadn’t even met Apsley, and they had found nothing to suggest he was having an affair with Amy Henshaw. She hoped the investigation wouldn’t be led astray by fanciful speculation. As her mentor, Geraldine had already warned the sergeant against unsubstantiated speculation. She had another go at impressing on Sam the importance of resisting committing to a theory without any evidence.
‘So you think I’ve got it all wrong, is that what you’re trying to tell me?’
‘I’m just saying we need to keep an open mind. Cases can throw up all sorts of surprises.’
‘I have got an open mind,’ Sam replied crossly and they drove the rest of the way to the morgue in silence.
Geraldine arrived at the morgue irritated with Sam, and even more annoyed with herself for handling the situation so clumsily. The pathologist met them with a smile. He had clear hazel eyes and light brown hair tinged with red. Although he must have been older, he looked about twenty.
‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ he said with a hint of impatience in his voice.
He introduced himself as Miles Fellows. While Geraldine responded to the friendly greeting, Sam stepped forward for a sight of the body. She flinched and Geraldine threw the sergeant a sympathetic glance, aware that Sam felt queasy around corpses.
‘I’m afraid he was a bit of a mess when he was brought in,’ the pathologist began, sounding apologetic, as though he was somehow responsible for the victim’s injuries. Horrified, Geraldine and Sam studied the cadaver. The dead man’s face was bloodless, the effect emphasised by his dark staring eyes and gaping mouth. From one side his face was white and intact. With curiously angular features, he looked like an android. As Geraldine approached she saw a deep weal on his left temple surrounded by a bruise that extended from the edge of his straight eyebrow to disappear beneath his hair. But that wasn’t what held her
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