About the Author

  Award-winning author Heather Peck has enjoyed a varied life. She has been both farmer and agricultural policy adviser, volunteer covid vaccinator and NHS Trust Chair. She bred sheep and alpacas, reared calves, broke ploughs, represented the UK in international negotiations, specialised in emergency response from Chernobyl to bird flu, managed controls over pesticides and GM crops, saw legislation through Parliament and got paid to eat Kit Kats while on secondment to Nestle Rowntree.

  She lives in Norfolk with her partner Gary, two dogs and two cats.

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  www.heatherpeckauthor.com

  Also by Heather Peck

  THE DCI GELDARD NORFOLK MYSTERIES

  Secret Places

  Glass Arrows

  Fires of Hate

  The Temenos Remains

  Dig Two Graves

  Beyond Closed Doors

  Buried in the Past

  Spinning into the Dark

  Death on the Rhine (novella)

  Death on the Norwich Express (novella)

  Expedition to Death (novella)

  Milestones (Winner, Page Turner Book Awards 2024 best crime novel)

  BOOKS FOR CHILDREN

  Tails of Two Spaniels

  The Animals of White Cows Farm

  The Pixie and the Bear

  WELCOME TO THE DCI GREG GELDARD NORFOLK MYSTERIES

  Previously in the series:

  When Greg’s team stormed a quiet village home to rescue two missing children, they uncovered a far darker secret — two hidden bodies.

  As the cold trail of a decade-old murder began to warm, a new nightmare struck: cyclists were vanishing from Norfolk’s peaceful lanes. Balancing the hunt for a ruthless predator with an unexpected offer of promotion — and the looming arrival of his first child — Greg found himself fighting to hold his world together while chasing a killer who always seemed to be one step ahead.

  Last Act

  DCI GREG GELDARD BOOK 9

  Heather Peck

  Ormesby Publishing

  Published in 2025 by Ormesby Publishing

  Ormesby St Margaret

  Norfolk

  www.ormesbypublishing.co.uk

  Text copyright © Heather Peck 2025

  Author photograph by John Thompson 2021

  The right of Heather Peck to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 Sections 77 and 78.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the copyright holder.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination. Or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Page design and typesetting by Ormesby Publishing

  Acknowledgments

  My thanks to Gary for everything

  and many thanks yet again to my beta readers Geoff Dodgson, Alison Tayler and Gary Westlake for their constructive criticism and comments.

  This book is all the better for your help.

  Particular thanks go to Clive Myhill and Neil Mace for their specialist advice and guidance on all things involving police dogs. Any mistakes are mine!

  And finally, thanks also to Sharon Gray at CluedUpEditing for her meticulous and knowledgeable proof editing.

  Contents

  Key Characters

  Glossary

  1. 19 July 2021: the curtain rises on The Garage, Norwich

  2. The following day: by the Bure, near Acle.

  3. Morning of 20 July 2021

  4. 20 July: North Walsham, a few hours earlier

  5. Evening of 20 July: North Walsham

  6. 21 July

  7. Same day: in Wymondham

  8. Handovers

  9. Acting up

  10. 22 July: Wroxham garage

  11. 23 July: in the office

  12. Personal note

  13. Acting out

  14. 24 July: near the Bure

  15. Sunday 25 July

  16. Monday 26 July: acting tough

  17. Personal note 2

  18. Monday 26 July: late afternoon

  19. 26 July: evening

  20. Late evening, 26 July: The Last Wine Bar

  21. Wednesday 28 July: across Norfolk

  22. Personal note 3

  23. Change of focus

  24. 29 July: Wymondham

  25. 30 July: locations near Norwich

  26. 2 August: in court

  27. Same day: new blood

  28. Analyses

  29. Questions and answers

  30. Out of court

  31. Morning of 3 August

  32. Personal note 4

  33. Afternoon of 3 September

  34. Personal note 5

  35. In Great Yarmouth

  36. Personal note 6

  37. The other side of town

  38. Next steps

  39. 4 September

  40. Personal note 7

  41. At the hospital

  42. Pulling the threads together

  43. After Thorne

  44. Newmarket Road

  45. Later that day

  46. Early evening

  47. That night

  48. Last Act 1

  49. Last Act 2

  Key Characters

  Norfolk Police

  Chief Constable Ralph Thornfield

  Major Crimes team:

  Detective Superintendent Greg Geldard

  Detective Chief Inspector (DCI) Ram Trent

  Detective Inspector (DI) Jim Henning

  DI Chris Mathews

  Detective Sergeant (DS) Jill Hayes

  Detective Constable (DC)s Bill Street, Jenny Warren and Graham ‘Gray’ Clarke

  In King’s Lynn

  DCI Helena Bell

  DI Glyn Roberts

  DCs Colin Waterton and Ian Challinor

  Geraldine Dennis and Chas Young (civilian staff)

  In Great Yarmouth

  Chief Inspector (CI) Richard ‘Rick’ Lake

  Sergeant Briscoe

  Specialist Services

  Ned George Lead crime scene investigator

  Yvonne Berry Deputy crime scene investigator

  PCs Rogers and Scouller Dog handlers

  Police Dogs (PD)s Nell and Digby German shepherd general purpose (GP) dogs

  Legal services

  Frank Parker Crown Prosecution Service

  Henry Fell, Mr Hempstall and Mr Gregson Solicitors

  Sir Frederick Seymour Prosecution barrister

  Mr Fordyce Defence barrister

  Medical experts

  Dr Paisley Police pathologist

  Other participants

  James ‘Jamie’ Gregory Simon Geldard guess who…

  Mr Geldard, senior Greg’s father

  Bobby Greg’s cat

  Tally Chris’s foul-mouthed parrot

  Jane Mathews Chris’s mum

  Bob Fisher Fire service commander

  Northfolk Players currently rehearsing Kiss Me, Kate

  Leonard Ware Fred/Petruchio

  Louise Lacon Lilli/Kate

  Dean Mason Bill

  Myrtle Harris Hattie

  Josie James Lois

  Barry ‘Aubrey’ Sinclair Producer

  Pop Doorman and general handyman

  Marie Leakey Masseuse

  Nick Atkinson Garage owner

  Sharon Jones Hairdresser

  Sam Jones Sharon’s husband

  Anthony Newell Vicar in Martham

  Warren Thorne Tree surgeon

  Joseph Andrews Retired solicitor

  Glossary

  HDU high dependency unit

  ICE in case of emergency

  ITU intensive therapy unit

  N&N Norfolk and Norwich Hospital

  RTA road traffic accident

  1

  19 July 2021: the curtain rises on The Garage, Norwich

  Chalk lines on the rehearsal room floor marked the actors’ entrances and exits. A row of chairs indicated where unpainted scenery flats would be propped, and more chalk announced the edge of the stage. The first rehearsal of Kiss Me, Kate, as interpreted by the Northfolk Players, was underway.

  Most of the cast, jubilant about rehearsing after the long period of lockdowns, were celebrating their reunions and the return of drama to their lives. Sitting in the centre of a row of chairs, as far away from the chalk stage as possible, Aubrey Sinclair was clutching his head in his hands.

  ‘No, no. Nooo,’ he howled at the lady, very much of a ‘certain age’, holding centre stage. ‘OK, I said come down to centre stage, but I also said keep all gestures light and airy. Which bit of “light and airy” didn’t you understand? I said keep all gestures at shoulder level, so they’re dramatic and flamboyant. And what do I get? Someone who looks as though they’re shovelling coal! I really don’t feel you’re channelling this part, dear. Come on, darling. This is the opening scene. It sets the, the…’


  ‘Scene?’ suggested Hattie helpfully.

  ‘All right, yes, it sets the scene for the drama to come, and for an evening of hilarious entertainment for our audience. At the moment, the audience will be either anticipating hemlock shots all round or leaving in droves.’

  Hattie marched to the chalk line with determined steps. Given that she weighed north of one hundred and twenty kilos, the sound on the echoing wooden floor was impressive.

  ‘Look here, Barry,’ she snapped. ‘Just give it to me straight. If you want louder or softer, say so. If you want me to come forwards or move back, say that. I just don’t get all this highfalutin poncing about. Tell me what you want in words of one syllable and I’ll deliver it.’

  ‘Aubrey,’ corrected Barry ‘Aubrey’. ‘I don’t use Barry now.’

  ‘Humph,’ said Hattie, and retired to the back of the stage before her impulse to bluntness overcame her again.

  ‘Let’s leave the opening scene for now,’ said Aubrey, knowing when he was beaten. ‘Where’re Lois and Bill? Let’s go through “Why can’t you behave?”, and make sure Fred and Lilli are ready to block “Wunderbar”.

  ‘OK, Maggie,’ he said to the long-suffering pianist, who had seized the opportunity to open a packet of wine gums and shovel a few in. She could see this was going to be one of those evenings when a high blood-sugar level would be a prerequisite. ‘From the top, and speed it up a bit.’

  ‘OK, Aubrey,’ she spluttered through the sweets and set off at a merry gallop. But as the introduction ended, there was a marked lack of Lois.

  ‘Cut,’ shouted Aubrey, forgetting for a moment that he was producing an amateur theatrical company not a film. ‘Where the hell’s Lois?’

  There was a scuffle, then a teenager dressed all in black emerged with some difficulty at the back of the stage. ‘Sorry, Aubrey,’ she gasped. ‘I parked my bike in the alley, and then I couldn’t get up the back passage.’

  There was a snort from Hattie, still hanging around stage left, and an outright guffaw from Bill, waiting his turn for some dialogue. Aubrey decided to rise above it.

  ‘No problem, Lois,’ he said to the girl. ‘Take it from the top, Maggie, and, Lois, remember what we said last week about singing to the audience, not to Bill. She’s a nightclub singer, remember?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Lois. ‘Right. OK.’

  Maggie set off again, and this time Lois managed to take her cue. Aubrey began to relax and Bill got ready for his line. The Northfolk were up and running again. At least, until the next interruption.

  ‘Aubrey,’ shouted a voice from the room next door. ‘Aubrey, we’ve got a problem.’

  Aubrey clutched his head again, Maggie came to a sudden stop and Lois, warbling in a throaty alto, trailed off in the sudden silence.

  ‘What now?’ demanded Aubrey.

  ‘More congestion in the back passage?’ asked Hattie with another snort.

  The voice came round the door, turning out to belong to the old chap cast as Pop, the Kiss Me, Kate doorman. ‘Leonard’s been run over,’ he said with all the relish due to the bearer of bad tidings. ‘Just out here, in front of the theatre.’

  There was a concerted dash for the door and Lois was left alone onstage.

  2

  The following day: by the Bure, near Acle.

  Greg was peering at himself in the full-length mirror, brushing imaginary flecks off his dark jacket. Watching him, their five-month-old son, James Gregory Simon Geldard (named for his father and his two grandfathers), was hiccupping gently over Chris’s shoulder. She reckoned she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had seen Greg preening in a mirror.

  ‘You’re nervous,’ she said accusingly. ‘Whyever? You’ve been assured it’s a shoo-in and you’re not even sure you want the job, so what’s to be nervous about?’

  Greg looked into her eyes reflected in the mirror and grinned sheepishly. ‘I guess I do want it after all,’ he admitted. ‘More than I thought.’ He turned round. ‘Do I look like a good candidate for detective superintendent?’ he asked.

  Chris surveyed the dark suit, white shirt, just ever so slightly outré tie and highly polished black shoes. ‘Show me your socks,’ she demanded. Greg laughed and hoicked up his trouser legs to reveal impeccable black socks.

  ‘I did consider taking a leaf out of your book and wearing those pink ones you got me for Christmas,’ he said. ‘But I decided against it, just in case the panel have no sense of humour.’

  ‘You pass,’ said Chris. ‘Now give us a kiss and be on your way. You don’t want to be late.’

  ‘Give me my son and heir then,’ he said and held out his arms.

  ‘Not on your nelly,’ she exclaimed, holding the baby out of reach. ‘Guaranteed he’ll barf all down your best suit. Just blow him a kiss for luck and get off with you. Break a leg,’ she added as he went down the stairs.

  ‘Your dad is looking damn good,’ she said to the uncomprehending baby. ‘I could even fancy him myself.’ She jiggled the baby and went downstairs to feed the indignant cat and parrot awaiting, with varying degrees of patience, her ministrations.

  Their cottage was sited on the banks of the River Bure, not far from the market town of Acle. Succumbing to the temptation of a wander in the garden, Chris could still hear Greg’s car bouncing over the long, rough track that led down the side of a field to the main road. For March, the day was sunny, and the wind had dropped, so it almost qualified as warm. The river was flowing swiftly, swollen by recent rains, provoking the thought in Chris’s mind that they really must arrange for the garden to be fenced off from the river before the baby started crawling. She turned to carry the baby back into the house, almost tripped over Bobby, their cat, and suppressed the words that came to mind.

  ‘No swearing in front of you, either,’ she said to little Jamie; and to Bobby, ‘Come on, you. I’ll feed you now.’

  By the time the whole menagerie had been fed – cat, parrot and baby – Chris was more than ready to sit down with a mug of coffee and her laptop. Jamie had, for once, deigned to go to sleep promptly on being put down, and she clicked on the Norfolk Police link with a sigh of relief. She wasn’t due back at work for some weeks yet, but to Chris, a career detective inspector, work wasn’t a chore; it was both safe haven and, after Greg and Jamie, reason for living. She dived into the website like a salmon leaping upriver.

  The drive to Wymondham was, for once, pleasantly free of roadworks and Greg arrived so far ahead of his scheduled interview he had time to waste. He decided against an extended coffee stop, on the grounds that he didn’t want to spend his interview with his legs crossed as well as his fingers, and dropped in on Jim Henning instead. Jim was, as usual at that time in the morning, tonsils deep in a bacon butty.

  ‘How you can keep eating those and still get through the door beats me,’ said Greg in greeting.

  DI Henning surveyed him in a silence which owed a lot to the fact that his mouth was full, swallowed, cleared his throat and said ‘Woohoo! Look at the supermodel. Anyone can tell you’ve got an interview this morning!’

  ‘Can it, Jim,’ responded Greg, sitting down in the chair opposite. ‘Anyone would think I usually come in scruffy.’

  Jim leaned over to survey his boss’s feet. ‘Even the shoes are polished,’ he remarked, then took pity on his superior. ‘Joking apart, Greg, the whole team is rooting for you. Best of luck from us all.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Greg. ‘I’m still not sure it’s the right time…’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Jim replied. ‘With Margaret on her way out, it’s the only time. We’re all just glad the bosses apparently see it that way too.’

  ***

  An hour later and Greg was wondering if they did indeed see it that way. He’d been grilled on his leadership style, asked to outline a difficult decision and how he had reached it, challenged on why he wanted the job, and quizzed on his understanding of Norfolk Police, its structures and policies. The independent panel member had asked him about his involvement in the local community, and he had begun to feel he might be on the home straight, when the panel Chair bowled him a googly.