Child's Play (D.I. Kim Stone #11)(62)

‘Although Belinda certainly made up in later life,’ Stacey remarked, glancing at her notes. ‘She’s on plenty of dating sites under the name of Linda Loftus.’

‘Sounds a bit porny,’ Tiffany said, screwing up her nose.

‘Okay, what do we know about Freddie Compton?’

Kim still wanted to know more about the sisters but it’s relevance to finding the murderer was now questionable in her mind.

‘He’s fifty-eight years old, no kids but ran the Brainboxes event for twelve years from 2004 to 2016 when his wife was diagnosed with cancer. He was a primary school teacher who had attended the event with one of his pupils the year before he took over. Never made a lot of money out of it and took early retirement to care for his wife.’

‘Enemies?’ Kim asked without any real hope.

Stacey shook her head. ‘Not so far.’

She growled in frustration, as she sipped the last of her drink.

‘So, we’re all agreed that whatever it is that links them is gonna be found at Brainboxes?’

Bryant nodded as Stacey answered an internal call, but Tiffany obviously felt too uninformed to offer her opinion.

‘Okay,’ Kim said, looking at her watch. ‘Go home, pack an overnight bag.’

‘That was Inspector Plant,’ Stacey said. ‘On his way with the statements from the cricket club and Belinda’s neighbours.’

‘It’ll have to wait,’ Kim said. ‘We need to get to the venue and see what all this is about. Be back here in one hour,’ she said, grabbing her jacket and heading out the room.

She paused and put her head back around the door in case her instruction had not been clear. ‘And that includes you too, Tinkerbell.’





Sixty-Six





Penn stifled a yawn as he continued to watch the two men at work.

‘Sorry if we’re keeping you up while we help you out on an unrelated case from another force in our own time,’ Keats said, missing nothing.

‘I’m eternally grateful for your help, guys. It’s just been a long day,’ he said, wishing he could do more than sit and watch.

So far, he’d made coffee, phoned home to check on Jasper and his mum and paced the windowless room trying to make sense of what he’d learned.

They’d explained much about the advances made in blood spatter technology.

‘Don’t thank us too soon, Penn. I’m afraid we have more bad news.’

Shit, how was this day going to get any worse?

So far he’d watched as the two of them analysed the colour, shape and size of the bloodstains as well as discuss, in detail, something called fluid mechanics. They’d given attention to the angle of impact in order to determine the blood’s origin and the amount of force behind it.

‘Check HemoSpat again,’ Keats advised as Mitch headed to the computer.

‘Hemowhat?’ Penn asked.

‘Blood spatter analysis software. We finally agree with each other, so it’s time to see if technology agrees with us.’

‘It does,’ Mitch said, turning around on the swivel chair.

‘Oh dear,’ Keats said, as Mitch came to join him at the workbench.

‘Tell me,’ Penn said, standing.

‘The blood on this tee shirt didn’t land on the fabric with any force from a violent incident, which is why we can’t make any blood spatter pattern fit.’

‘I don’t get it,’ Penn said, moving to stand beside them.

Mitch turned the garment inside out. ‘The blood doesn’t even go through the material. It didn’t land on the tee shirt; it was smeared on there by a human hand.’





Sixty-Seven





‘You sure this is a good idea?’ Bryant asked, throwing the bags into the back of the car.

Tiffany was chattering excitedly to Stacey as they got into the rear passenger seats.

Kim found it hard to believe that only a few years separated the two women; demonstrated not least by the luggage Bryant was now loading. Tiffany’s backpack was covered in gaudy, bright yellow sunflowers that glowed up from the darkness of the boot.

‘It’ll be good to get away,’ she said, slapping him on the back.

He groaned as he closed the boot and then got into the front of the car.

‘Buckle up, kiddies,’ he called over his shoulder.

Stacey groaned as she pulled her seat belt across her body.

Despite what she’d said to Bryant this was the last place Kim wanted to be. Right now she would have preferred to be working in her garage on the bike with Barney lying in the corner watching her.

The thought of her dog brought a pang of guilt.

She’d rushed home, put a few bits and pieces in a hold-all and then hotfooted it to Charlie’s house down the road.

She’d spent half an hour walking Barney, five minutes feeding him and ten minutes silently explaining why she had to leave him at Charlie’s for an overnight stay. During the last few minutes of her explanation he’d spotted the squirrel in the tree at the bottom of the garden and left her to it.

She swore that if a dog could roll its eyes Barney would be doing it twenty times a day.

Charlie had been overjoyed at keeping Barney overnight. She’d made him promise that the dog was not allowed on the bed, and she knew how long that would last.