Child's Play (D.I. Kim Stone #11)(51)

Veronica’s face hardened to granite.

‘If you know that then you really don’t need me at all,’ she said righting herself and moving away from the sideboard.

‘So, yes, Inspector, now you have access to everything.’





Fifty-Four





HM Prison Hewell was situated in the village of Tardebigge in Worcestershire and also helped to serve West Midlands and Warwickshire.

Housing mixed-category prisons, the place had seen the Tornado squads brought in in July 2017 to deal with a prison riot following the commencement of a phased smoking ban.

Penn recalled watching footage of the elite team of prison officers bring the commotion under control and thanked the Lord for his own career choice. A couple of failed exams and that might have been him, and given the rising violence recorded in every official report he still felt the police force was a safer bet.

He drummed his fingers on the table feeling as though he was doing something wrong. He had his temporary boss’s permission to be here and yet he still expected someone to tap him on the shoulder for consorting with the enemy.

Ultimately, he was the arresting police officer of a murderer visiting that murderer during the course of the trial. Oh, absolutely no codes of practice being broken there.

It didn’t matter that the murderer in question looked none too pleased to see him as the guard pointed him out.

‘What the fuck you want?’ he asked, sitting down. His Russian accent was slightly thicker than his wife’s.

Although Penn noticed that he’d aged in the time since they’d last spoken. Faint lines had appeared at the corner of his eyes. His ruddy, healthy outdoor complexion had been replaced with pale, sallow skin.

‘How’s it?—’

‘Fuck you,’ he said, and Penn had to move back slightly to avoid a few droplets of spittle that barrelled towards him like mini torpedoes.

Penn opened his mouth to speak but lost his chance.

‘What you guys gonna fuck up today, eh? You got the wrong man and built your case on my lying wife and a fucking low-level street crim.’

Penn met his gaze. There was no avoiding the red-hot rage in his eyes. And that didn’t bother him. He’d put away plenty of people who now fantasised about pulling him apart limb by limb like an insect. Pissing off criminals and bad people was his job. What he didn’t like seeing reflected there was accusation: the silent allegation of being told he’d got it wrong.

‘You fucked up, copper,’ Gregor said, bitterly.

‘Did we?’ Penn asked, without batting an eyelid. He would expect a man charged with murder to say exactly that. But, that’s what he was here to find out. He’d spoken to just about everyone else.

‘Yeah, like you’re gonna fucking listen to me now. You wouldn’t listen to me back then, so why you interested now? You got your guy for the crime. Well you got a guy for the crime, so your stats and targets are all good; so who fucking cares if I actually killed that kid, right?’

‘I do,’ Penn said, honestly, talking little but listening hard and watching even harder.

The man had given up. He’d shouted his innocence for months and had now accepted his fate whether he was guilty or innocent.

‘Give me something, Gregor,’ he said.

The man opened his hands. ‘What do you want? If I’d known this was gonna happen I’d have invited the whole street round to give me an alibi. It was a normal fucking night. Two knackered parents vegging out in front of the telly, barely speaking once the kids had gone to bed. I could hardly keep my eyes open. Normal night and there’s only two people who can confirm that. One is dead and the other is a lying fucking—’

‘She’s changed her story again, Gregor,’ Penn offered.

His busy mouth fell open. ‘She’s what?’

‘Gone back to story A. Says you were with her the whole night.’

Words appeared to fail him.

‘She’s offered no further explanation and she seems scared of something, but to be honest we can’t trust a word she says.’

His head fell forward as though he couldn’t even be bothered to summon any hope.

‘There’s something else,’ Penn said, knowing he was divulging too much but he had to see the man’s reactions.

Gregor lifted his head.

‘The eye witness testimony isn’t as reliable as we thought.’

‘How could it be?’ he asked, incredulously. ‘That fucking crim couldn’t have seen me cos I wasn’t bloody there.’

Penn chose not to divulge that Ricky Drake couldn’t actually have seen anyone. That was one fuck-up too far on their part.

‘But that brings me to the tee shirt, Gregor,’ Penn said, heavily. They came back to that every time.

‘Never seen it before,’ he said, shaking his head.

‘That doesn’t wash, man. The victim’s blood was found on an item of clothing in your shed.’

He took a deep, defeated breath. ‘Don’t matter how many different ways I try to say it. I swear to you that I didn’t put it there.’

Penn combed his fingers through his hair. ‘You gotta give me more than that. Look, I know you’ve got no reason to trust me, but work with me here. Anybody else giving you a chance to speak lately?’