Child's Play (D.I. Kim Stone #11)(29)

‘I remember one time they started arguing over the recipe for their mother’s cheesecake. It ended with Belinda physically throwing her sister out of the house. Two minutes later she was pacing the room and fretting over whether she was okay. Belinda called her and they continued the argument until Veronica was back at her own home, and once Belinda knew she was okay, she ended the call. The dynamic between them was off, but they thought it was perfectly normal.’

‘Did Veronica ever try to get in the way of your relationship?’ Kim asked.

He thought for a minute. ‘Not intentionally, I don’t think. I could always kind of feel her presence due to the level of contact they had but she never openly tried to come between us.’

Was it that somehow Veronica had been more threatened by a platonic relationship with a female like Ida than she was by a sexual liaison with Charles?

‘Did Belinda ever talk about her childhood?’ Bryant asked.

Charles shook his head. ‘Never.’

Whatever had formed them had started there.

‘And lastly, can you tell me where you were on Monday night? We have to ask.’

‘Of course. I was at The Cock Robin pub in Romsley in a pub quiz with my old football team. Left at 10.45 and I’m happy to give you all of their names.’

Bryant took out his notebook as Charles scrolled through his phone offering names and numbers.

Kim stood and offered her hand.

‘Thank you,’ she said, as he shook it. His palm was cool and dry. ‘We’ll be in touch if…’

Her words trailed away as her phone rang.

She stepped away and listened to the findings of her detective constable.

She ended the call and walked back.

‘My apologies, Mr Blunt, but it looks as though we’re not quite done with you yet.’





Twenty-Nine





‘Why here?’ Penn asked, as they turned the corner into Curzon Street. Before they’d even reached the car the instruction had changed via a text message to Doug’s phone.

‘Not a clue. The boss just… Jesus Christ, what’s this all about?’

A cordon had been placed across the road between two lamp-posts. Beyond it were three squad cars, an ambulance and Detective Inspector Travis on the phone. The street was residential formed of mid-priced semi-detached and detached properties three miles north of Kidderminster.

Without words Lynne parked the car and they all jumped out.

Doug pushed forcefully through the crowds as Lynne followed with shouts of ‘excuse me’, while Penn nodded apologies to people being barged out of the way.

He understood it was a West Mercia crime scene. What he didn’t understand was the reason he’d been summoned to attend. And what the hell could trump a trial for murder?

‘Guv?’ they all said together and it really did feel like old times.

Travis ended the call and looked none too happy.

‘Trial has been suspended for now,’ he said, holding up the phone, confirming that’s what he’d just been told.

‘Guv?’ Lynne repeated.

He looked across the confusion shared by all three of them.

‘Follow me,’ he said, heading along a pathway that separated two detached houses.

At the end of the path was a steep bank with a path trodden between the overgrown weeds.

They scrambled up the bank in single file and stood together when they reached the top.

Penn spotted an arm first, severed just beneath the elbow, approximately twenty feet along the railway track. The stump of the limb was flesh-coloured mulch, deep red with dried blood. Loose flesh looked as though it was trying to crawl away. Sinews hung from the pulped muscle.

Beyond the limb was a crumpled, bloody mess surrounded by white suits. Another clutch of white suits was bunched further up the line, telling him this poor soul had been deposited in bits over a seventy to eighty feet stretch.

‘Bloody hell,’ Doug said.

‘Indeed, Doug. Seven different bits of him strewn across the track.’

As horrific as the scene was Penn still didn’t understand why he was there. If the trial of Gregor Nuryef had been suspended, it was time for him to get back to his own team.

‘Look closer,’ Travis said.

Penn looked back at the solitary arm. The shirt, the suit.

A wave of sickness rose within him.

‘Oh shit, is that?…’

‘Yes, Penn. We’re looking at bits of Mr Dexter McCann, witness for the defence in our murder trial.’

He turned back to them, rage mottling his features.

‘So, tell me, guys, how the hell did you fuck this one up?’





Thirty





Charles Blunt showed them back into the general office. Ida looked up and Kim smiled in her direction.

‘Lou can tell you much more than I can,’ he said, folding his arms.

Kim noted that all the female employees had looked up at the sound of his voice. She also quickly realised that not one of them except Ida had a chance. Amongst the rest there wasn’t one of them above the age of thirty-five.

‘May I ask what’s going on here?’ Felicity Astor asked from the entrance of a doorway on the other side of the office.

‘And if there’s nothing else I can help you with, I’ll get back to work,’ Charles said, backing away.