after stone looking for crabs. She'd never found one. She felt like that child on the beach now, hunting through numerous documents. Somewhere there had to be a clue to the killer's identity, if they could only find it. But there was so much information to search through. She kept up her resolve and stayed at the station for hours after her shift ended, reading through reports and witness statements.
She arrived back at her flat that evening too tired to cook. As she was scavenging in the kitchen, her sister phoned.
'You're always busy,' Celia complained when Geraldine said she had no time to chat. Geraldine tried to explain the demands of her work. 'You could at least get a girl in to clean, once a week,' her sister suggested. 'That would save you a bit of time, and it's not as if you can't afford it.'
'Great idea. I'll make sure I'm always here at the right time to let the cleaner in, shall I?' Geraldine snapped. 'Or maybe you'd like me to give a key to some stranger?' She regretted her answer immediately. Her sister was only trying to be helpful. 'I'm sorry. It's just that I've got a lot on right now. I'll call you soon.' She hung up, opened her briefcase and pulled out the files she'd brought home. The memory of that small pale figure in the mortuary wouldn't let her relax. Over a solitary supper of cheese and crackers, she settled down to work.
20
Melanie
He'd only met the boy once, but Ron was suspicious of his daughter Melanie's new boyfriend.
'You assume everyone's after your money. This Terry probably doesn't even know who you are,' Lynda protested. They both knew that was unlikely. Ron Rogers had been a huge rock star in his youth and still made frequent appearances on television. His ravaged features were familiar from award ceremonies and charity events on both sides of the Atlantic along with his wife, former international fashion model, Lynda Clare.
'He knows who I am,' Ron retorted testily. 'His eyes were on stalks all the time he was here.'
'It's not like she's planning to marry him,' Lynda said, dismissing her husband's concerns. 'It's just a fling. She'll soon get bored of him.' They lapsed into moody silence as Nora knocked and came in to announce that dinner was ready.
Nora liked to have everything perfect for Mr Rogers and his wife. He'd given up his music career years ago, but Nora still remembered Ron Rogers in his heyday. She'd been a devoted fan, buying all his records. She'd even seen him live in concert once, screaming along with all the other girls whenever he waved his electric guitar at them. Ron Rogers strode into the dining room, his wife at his heels.
Nora couldn't help overhearing snatches of conversation at the table as she flitted in and out. She was fetching coffee from the kitchen when the front door slammed and Melanie ran in, her long blonde hair flying. She resembled her mother and would have been just as beautiful had her looks not been marred by a hint of her father's horsey features. Even so, her face was almost perfect, with her mother's striking green eyes, full lips and upturned nose. As a child, Melanie had idolised her father. He had that effect on people. Even now, with his grey hair and lined face, the effect of his presence in a room was electrifying. Nora smiled at Melanie and carried the coffee tray into the dining room.
'I'm hopping over to Le Touquet,' Ron Rogers was saying. He pulled on his cigar.
'That's a good idea,' Lynda nodded her golden head at her husband who waved his cigar at the coffee pot. Melanie's feet pounded across the wide hallway. Lynda glanced at her husband over the coffee pot and carried on pouring. Ron Rogers gave no sign he'd heard his daughter as Melanie flung the door open and hurried in. She sat down without an apology and looked up expectantly. Despite her furious scowl, her resemblance to her mother was remarkable.
'Don't suppose there's
She arrived back at her flat that evening too tired to cook. As she was scavenging in the kitchen, her sister phoned.
'You're always busy,' Celia complained when Geraldine said she had no time to chat. Geraldine tried to explain the demands of her work. 'You could at least get a girl in to clean, once a week,' her sister suggested. 'That would save you a bit of time, and it's not as if you can't afford it.'
'Great idea. I'll make sure I'm always here at the right time to let the cleaner in, shall I?' Geraldine snapped. 'Or maybe you'd like me to give a key to some stranger?' She regretted her answer immediately. Her sister was only trying to be helpful. 'I'm sorry. It's just that I've got a lot on right now. I'll call you soon.' She hung up, opened her briefcase and pulled out the files she'd brought home. The memory of that small pale figure in the mortuary wouldn't let her relax. Over a solitary supper of cheese and crackers, she settled down to work.
20
Melanie
He'd only met the boy once, but Ron was suspicious of his daughter Melanie's new boyfriend.
'You assume everyone's after your money. This Terry probably doesn't even know who you are,' Lynda protested. They both knew that was unlikely. Ron Rogers had been a huge rock star in his youth and still made frequent appearances on television. His ravaged features were familiar from award ceremonies and charity events on both sides of the Atlantic along with his wife, former international fashion model, Lynda Clare.
'He knows who I am,' Ron retorted testily. 'His eyes were on stalks all the time he was here.'
'It's not like she's planning to marry him,' Lynda said, dismissing her husband's concerns. 'It's just a fling. She'll soon get bored of him.' They lapsed into moody silence as Nora knocked and came in to announce that dinner was ready.
Nora liked to have everything perfect for Mr Rogers and his wife. He'd given up his music career years ago, but Nora still remembered Ron Rogers in his heyday. She'd been a devoted fan, buying all his records. She'd even seen him live in concert once, screaming along with all the other girls whenever he waved his electric guitar at them. Ron Rogers strode into the dining room, his wife at his heels.
Nora couldn't help overhearing snatches of conversation at the table as she flitted in and out. She was fetching coffee from the kitchen when the front door slammed and Melanie ran in, her long blonde hair flying. She resembled her mother and would have been just as beautiful had her looks not been marred by a hint of her father's horsey features. Even so, her face was almost perfect, with her mother's striking green eyes, full lips and upturned nose. As a child, Melanie had idolised her father. He had that effect on people. Even now, with his grey hair and lined face, the effect of his presence in a room was electrifying. Nora smiled at Melanie and carried the coffee tray into the dining room.
'I'm hopping over to Le Touquet,' Ron Rogers was saying. He pulled on his cigar.
'That's a good idea,' Lynda nodded her golden head at her husband who waved his cigar at the coffee pot. Melanie's feet pounded across the wide hallway. Lynda glanced at her husband over the coffee pot and carried on pouring. Ron Rogers gave no sign he'd heard his daughter as Melanie flung the door open and hurried in. She sat down without an apology and looked up expectantly. Despite her furious scowl, her resemblance to her mother was remarkable.
'Don't suppose there's
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