Child's Play (D.I. Kim Stone #11)(12)

Having Belinda’s phone number and the provider had made her job considerably easier. Susie at Vodafone had already confirmed that all activity had ceased on the number at 11 p.m. the night before.

Stacey was guessing the phone had been destroyed which told her the device was important, that there was some kind of link to the killer on that phone. Otherwise it would have remained on her person.

Helpful Susie at Vodafone was still working on the tracking information and was pulling data from the masts, but in the meantime Stacey had the phone activity to focus on.

She laid out the four pages emailed by Susie which covered the previous twenty-eight days.

As she began to scour the data she heard her own phone ding again.

She shook her head at her satchel as though it could understand her.

And then she got back to work.





Twelve





‘Guv, do you want to explain what you hope to find here?’ Bryant asked, as they entered the second property belonging to Belinda Evans. ‘We already know she spent all her time next door, so surely any clue will be there.’

Kim turned to him. ‘Even in death did Belinda Evans appear unkempt, unclean?’

Bryant shook his head.

‘Could you even have guessed at the squalor she lived in next door?’

‘No.’

‘Did the inside of her car in any way reflect it?’

‘A simple answer to my question instead of twenty of your own would have been nice,’ he grumbled.

‘There was conflict, Bryant. A part of her needed that chaos next door. I’m not sure why yet but she also craved order and simplicity, organisation.’

‘I still don’t?…’

‘I’m getting there,’ she said, moving along the bare hallway and into the lounge. She looked in drawers and under cushions as she went.

‘Where did you keep stuff when you were a kid?’ she asked.

‘Everywhere. Clothes on the bed, in corners, trainers strewn around the room, school books in a pile on the bedside cabinet, just everywhere, really.’

‘What about important stuff? Things you wanted quick access to or to know where they were at all times, love letters, your favourite miniature Corgi car, pictures of half-naked…’

‘Top drawer of the bedside cabinet,’ he said, as her logic finally dawned on him. ‘You’re thinking Belinda used this house like a drawer. It’s where she kept important stuff, away from the chaos of next door?’

She nodded as she opened the bottom drawer of the sideboard.

‘Aha,’ she said, lifting out a pile of paperwork.

‘And what exactly are we looking for?’ Bryant asked.

‘I have no idea,’ she said, handing him the pile. ‘But I’ll leave you to look through that lot while I take a look around.’

She did a cursory inspection of the kitchen but moved quickly on. There was little evidence of the woman enjoying any kind of cooking, which was something she could relate to.

And yet she was finding out little else about their victim. Normally she got a feel for the person by roaming their home. In this case she had two homes and was none the wiser about the person tied to a swing.

Usually she would find evidence of their life, their interests. She’d glance at books, magazines, style of furniture, ornaments and nick-nacks left lying around, but right now Belinda Evans was a 61-year-old academic, a former college professor of child psychology. Where was Belinda the woman? What were her passions, her fears, aspirations? Kim wanted the meat on the bones, the flesh that made her individual, unique. How had she grown up with Veronica as a sister and what story was hiding there.

She hadn’t been expecting to find framed photo albums and sentimental trinkets. The woman had never married. There had been no children’s or grandchildren’s images to fill the mantelpiece but still Kim didn’t get it. Her own home held one single photograph of herself and Mikey when they were six years old, and although her space was sparsely decorated she saw evidence of herself everywhere. Dog bowls, bike parts, magazines, psychological studies of serial killers, a dead plant on the windowsill. An oil stain on the carpet that just wouldn’t come out.

But here there was nothing, which, for a woman who was clearly complex, made absolutely no sense.

She bypassed the spare bedroom that held not one stick of furniture and headed for the bedroom at the back.

This one held a double bed, a bedside cabinet with lamp, a dresser, a wardrobe and a full-length mirror.

Kim headed straight for the bedside cabinet. Top two drawers were empty but the bottom one held a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey and a pair of glasses.

Kim felt her lips turn up. Finally, a glimpse behind the curtain.

She strode to the first of the two wardrobes and found a small selection of pressed clothes similar to what she’d been wearing the night before, with a couple of added pairs of slacks. A shelf held underwear and flesh-coloured tights.

Her eyes passed quickly over the clothing to the item on the right.

She removed the overnight bag and placed it on the bed as Bryant entered the room.

‘Anything in the paperwork?’

He shook his head. ‘A few recent bills, a couple of solicitors’ letters from the completion of the house purchase and a few bank statements. You?’

Kim pulled back the zip and started to remove the contents of the case. Two skirts, one pair of trousers. Two shirts, a pack of white lace lingerie, unopened, one pair of shoes, basic underwear, a small pill container already filled and one other small item nestled in the side pocket.