Child's Play (D.I. Kim Stone #11)(59)

‘Okay, I’m going to be as objective as I can here and ask if you think they’re missing out on your idea of a fun childhood?’

‘Possibly,’ Kim admitted.

‘What was fun for you growing up?’

‘Speedway and classic bikes,’ she answered.

‘Okay, how many kids in your class liked doing the same thing?’

‘None, that I know of,’ Kim admitted.

‘My idea of fun was tree numbering.’

‘Huh?’ Bryant asked.

‘I wanted to number every tree in the world, so I’d go out and carve a number into every tree I could find.’

‘Yeah, that’s weird,’ Kim said.

‘Absolutely, but guess what, none of my peers wanted to join me.’

‘Shocking.’

‘So, what is normal fun? I’m not even sure there is such a thing.’

‘But they’re always so serious,’ Bryant said, cutting in. ‘And I’m not being mean but some of these kids do seem to be quite annoying.’

‘As are many children that are not gifted, officer. Children of superior intelligence aren’t particularly annoying, but can I ask if you’ve ever been in a room where you think you know more than everyone else?’

Kim nodded as Bryant coughed.

‘And have you told them so?’

‘Frequently,’ she joked. ‘Well, not really.’

‘Because over time you’ve learned tact and diplomacy. Many of these kids know they’re the most intelligent person in the room but their social skills are not as developed as their intelligence. Their problems arise from the difficulty of fitting in with an average society. They often fantasise as it’s difficult to find real companions of comparable mentality and interests.’

‘Imaginary friends?’

‘Sometimes. They have nothing in common with peers of the same age and not a lot with fellow prodigies, only a shared higher intelligence. Still doesn’t mean they like the same things. They struggle to fit in while clearly standing out. A child prodigy is defined as a person under the age of ten who produces meaningful output in some domain to the levels of an adult expert performer. So, no pressure,’ he said, finishing off the last of his drink.

Kim had a sudden thought. ‘You think our murderer could be doing this to get attention?’

‘I wouldn’t rule it out, but in all honesty, officers, I’d be more interested in knowing what’s caused your killer to go on this spree right now. If indeed he or she is a former child prodigy. I’ve seen no evidence to suggest that any kids wake up with the sudden need to kill.’

‘You think we need to find the trigger?’ Bryant asked.

‘Listen, my research indicated that most former child prodigies who experience difficulties later in life often turn to drugs, alcohol, sex. They may seek attention in any way they can get it. Not being in the limelight any more can devalue some kids so they don’t even know who they are. It’s not unusual for some to benefit from a spell in…’ his words trailed away as his expression turned thoughtful. He pulled on the end of his beard as he thought, forming it into a pointy triangle of dark, course hair.

‘You know, there could be another reason for the sudden rush of murders.’

‘Go on,’ she said.

‘If the murderer is indisposed, say in some kind of institution. It’s not unheard of for gifted kids to experience mental health issues later in life. I cover one of them in my book. His name was Richie Taylor from Australia in the Fifties, had an absolute meltdown when he reached his late teens. Couldn’t understand why the audience that had adored his violin-playing abilities since he was six were no longer all that interested. Spent almost five years institutionalised while coming to terms with normality, but if I recall there was another case, much more recent than my studies. From your neck of the woods if I remember correctly.’

He frowned harder as he tried to recall.

‘Pretty sure her name was Beth something or other.’





Sixty-Three





‘Hmm…’ Keats said for the seventh time.

‘I was thinking that,’ Mitch said, turning the tee shirt another way.

Penn stood up and stretched his legs. He’d been sitting in the corner for over an hour and these forms of half communication had been passing between the two of them at regular intervals.

Both men had suggested he leave the garment with them, but he wasn’t letting it out of his sight. The chain of evidence would be preserved even if it counted for nothing any more.

‘How can you know what he was thinking from half a word?’ he asked, standing beside the forensic technician.

‘It’s the value of the word,’ he explained.

Both men were wearing latex gloves and were armed with rulers, notepads, pencils and a textbook.

‘Explain it again,’ Keats said. ‘Tell us how it happened and use Mitch,’ he continued, pushing him forward. ‘And here’s your knife.’

Penn took the ruler from the pathologist and moved to the other side of the metal table so that he and Mitch were facing each other.

‘Okay, I’m Gregor and I come in to the shop. You’re Dev Kapoor on the other side of the counter. I posture and ask for money. I probably tell you I’ve got a knife. You don’t believe me and you’re angry, so you step around the side of the counter. I reach for the knife and stab you right there,’ Penn said. Thrusting the ruler at the exact spot.