Bad Blood by Geraldine Evans

‘Never mind. Maybe something else will strike you about this man in due course.’
    Mrs Toombes's, ‘Maybe,’ sounded even less confident than Rafferty's.
    After Rafferty and Llewellyn had thanked Mrs Toombes and departed, they had a quiet conference on the landing.
    ‘What do you think, Dafyd? That some tearaway was ringing bells at random to see if anyone was foolish enough to let him in?’
    ‘They may well have been,’ Llewellyn observed. ‘But it seems doubtful that Mrs Mortimer would have been so foolish as to do so. From what we've learned of her, she didn't seem to be the type of trusting old lady who become victims of crime.’
    ‘No. That's what I thought, too. But she's become a victim of crime all the same, so I don't think we can totally discount the possibility.’
    Rafferty's lips pursed. ‘Wonder why this early-morning bell-ringer should have hit on the name Esme as the preferred open-sesame. It's hardly a common name, even amongst elderly ladies.’
    ‘Certainly, none of the female residents of this block bear such a name, not even as a middle name.’ Llewellyn confirmed Mrs Toombes's claim. ‘And none of the other residents reported anyone ringing their apartment bells early this morning. I've wondered if this man didn't just start at the top bell on the left, which is the one to the Toombes's apartment and then moved down to Mrs Mortimer's, which is the next in line.’
    ‘And struck pay-dirt, you mean?’
    Llewellyn nodded. ‘Of course, the difficulty with that is the character of Mrs Mortimer.’
    ‘Mm. That is a bit of a poser,’ Rafferty agreed. ‘For a woman who refused to socialise with her neighbours to be willing to so naïvely open her door in the early morning, strikes against all reason. On the other hand, she is dead and dead because of a violent assault.’
    He sighed and made for the stairs, followed by Llewellyn. ‘Perhaps we're expecting complications when the case is not complicated at all. Maybe it is as simple as a lonely woman letting her guard down and paying the ultimate price.’Rafferty paused, then asked, ‘Apart from Mr Oliver and Mr Toombes, have all the residents been questioned?’
    ‘Yes.’ Llewellyn broke off as DC Jonathon Lilley had a quick word with him. ‘But I gather Mr Oliver's returned home now. I instructed Lilley here to get a statement from him on his return. But perhaps you'd prefer to speak to him yourself?’
    Rafferty glanced at his watch. He was surprised to find it was almost 6.00 p m. Tempted to make an early finish, Rafferty remembered he was meant to have altered his laissez faire attitudes. If he abandoned such an alteration so soon after the change, no one would ever notice it.
    'Why not?' he asked, 'though, seeing as Mr Oliver was away from home at the relevant time, it's unlikely he'll be able to tell us anything. Still, it's always best to be thorough and in view of the red roses Mrs Atkins claimed he presented to the victim, now seems like a good time to ask him about his relationship with the late Mrs Mortimer.'
    Llewellyn nodded and made for the stairs. Just in time, Rafferty remembered that, like the Toombses, Hal Oliver lived on the third floor. No way was he traipsing up all those stairs. He called to Llewellyn, 'Come on, let's take the lift. That's what it's there for. There's no point in wearing ourselves out when we need all our energies for the investigation.'
    Although Rafferty, a smoker from the age of thirteen, had, this time, managed to remain off cigarettes for some months', his body seemed to have gained no discernible benefit; for he still became puffed if he climbed more than one flight of stairs. He was half-tempted to start smoking again.
    As Llewellyn retraced his steps and joined Rafferty in the apartments' fair-sized lift, he sniffed the air and commented, 'You're still off the cigarettes, I take it?'
    Rafferty nodded and pressed the button for the third floor.
    'You're doing well. I know it's not