Child's Play (D.I. Kim Stone #11)(35)



‘But it’s a good question,’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘And I honestly don’t know what I’d do or how quickly. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t believe he was capable of such an act.’

‘And you’re a police officer.’

Doug raised his hand again.

Penn waved it down. He already knew what his colleague was going to say.

He considered the three things that had made this case watertight.

Their eye witness – now shaky.

No alibi – questionable but still in place.

Bloodstained tee shirt – irrefutable.

On the face of it they had the right man. It was the way they’d got there that bothered him.

‘So, hang on a minute,’ Lynne said as lines appeared on her forehead. ‘Are we reviewing this case looking for Gregor Nuryef’s innocence or guilt?’

‘What we’re looking to find’, he answered, ‘is the truth.’





Thirty-Four





‘So, you reckon the hopscotch grid was there before?’ Bryant asked, as they sat outside number 118 Norwood Avenue. ‘And he just happened to fall on it?’

‘You ever seen anyone fall over into that position?’ she asked. ‘And maybe we could find out a bit more if we could get in there,’ she moaned.

It hadn’t been difficult to locate the home of their victim whose driving licence had been in his wallet.

Uniforms had been despatched to break the news to the wife and they were waiting for the signal that she’d calmed enough to speak. Too many strangers in her house immediately would be far too overwhelming.

But they’d now been waiting for over half an hour.

‘Give her chance, guv. She’s just found out her husband has been murdered.’

‘Yeah, and I’d like to find the bastard that did it,’ she snapped.

He turned away and stared out the window.

She did the same and assessed the house. The fact it had been purchased under the right-to-buy scheme was obvious. The window frames in the houses to the left and right had seen better days but the Nixon windows were bright, shiny, new UPVC with flashings and fascias to match.

New fence panels had been fitted with gravel boards and the front garden turned into a drive.

The house looked cared for and fresh against its peers.

‘What the hell does the X mean?’ Kim asked.

‘Not a bloody clue, guv,’ Bryant answered, keeping his eyes on the door.

‘There’s something else bothering me, too,’ Kim said, putting the time to good use.

‘Of course there is.’

‘Why does he put the symbol where he does? He marks them after death so they don’t feel it, but it’s not gratuitous, either in size or display. It doesn’t make sense,’ she said.

‘Hmm…’ Bryant said, distractedly.

‘Don’t throw all your theories at me in one go, will you? Pace yourself, man.’

Bryant said nothing.

‘Jeez, where’d the cat take your tongue cos—’

‘We’re up,’ he said, as a uniformed officer gave them the nod from the doorway.

‘Hang on,’ Kim said. ‘Before we go in, tell me why you’ve got a face like a slapped arse.’

‘We’re never gonna catch him,’ he answered simply.

‘What are you talking about?’ She could call her colleague many things but defeatist wasn’t one of them.

‘Clearly the two murders are linked. They’ve come one day after the other, so our guy is on some kind of spree. He does one at night and one in the middle of the day. He wants these folks dead, like now. He’s working at speed and we’re having to stick to eight-hour shifts and not more than an hour ago you gave away a quarter of our team. To be honest, our guy couldn’t have timed it any better if he’d tried.’





Thirty-Five





Stacey put the phone records of Belinda Evans to one side. Every number now had a colour except for the call made from the college.

The boss had called and asked her to look up anything to do with symbolism, particularly the letter X.

In addition, she was trying to delve deeper into the relationship between the two sisters.

Stacey wasn’t given to stress normally but her workload sure was growing by the minute. And normally that would not bother her one bit. Most frustrating for her was having to try and do it all inside an eight-hour shift. Over the years she’d managed to regulate her own working practices successfully. She’d learned to prioritise the tasks, learned when to give up on a lead and change direction and most importantly she’d learned when she’d had enough and needed a rest.

More stressful for her was being forced to go home and leave tasks unfinished.

She drummed her fingers on the desk.

She’d also learned how to use the resources available to her.

She clicked on the Skype icon and pressed on the first contact in her address book.

The call was answered after two rings and a familiar face filled her screen.

‘Wassup, Stace?’ Alison said, smiling widely.

‘Back up,’ Stacey said, reminding her that she didn’t have to peer so closely into the camera. It could see her fine.

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