Child's Play (D.I. Kim Stone #11)(76)

He tapped the laptop beside him. ‘And Dad needs just an hour or two to catch up on work,’ he said, good-naturedly. ‘But go on, I’ll play along. Mattie,’ he called out.

She turned, her face full of colour and joy.

‘Show me,’ he said.

Matilda held up a canvas, daubed with bright colours. Orange, smeared into yellow, a flash of pink, a stroke of green.

Damien gave her the thumbs up. ‘Great picture, sweetie.’

She chuckled and turned back to her work.

‘What was it?’ Kim asked, seeing absolutely no artistic talent there at all.

‘Who cares?’ he answered. ‘Her favourite thing to do in the whole wide world is paint and if she’s happy, I’m happy.’

‘I don’t get it,’ Kim said, honestly. ‘You bring her here to compete but your whole ethos seems at odds with the spirit of the event.’

‘Officers,’ he said, looking from her to Bryant and back again. ‘You’re not the only ones confused right now. I’m trying to understand why you think that every kid who came here had a miserable time. I loved coming here. I hated sports, couldn’t kick a football if my life depended on it and couldn’t hit a cricket ball if I’d had three bats glued together. I had no enjoyment in physical activity. When I was here I didn’t feel like I was a freak. Yeah, some parents were overbearing but mine weren’t. They got to know a few of the parents and I made a couple of good friends. I came here and enjoyed myself. And when I didn’t want to come any more I just stopped. It really is that simple.’

There was a part of Kim that wanted to believe him and accept this event had been and still was a positive experience for some. And yet another part of her wondered if he protested too much.

He shook his head and continued. ‘I don’t even mind that you’ve chosen to talk to me. The fact that you have indicates that you think the killer could be a child who attended Brainboxes at some point in the past. From what I’ve heard about these murders, Inspector, you’ve got one pissed off person on your hands.’

He paused and opened his hands. ‘And I’m sorry to have to tell you that I’m not the tree you should be barking up cos I’m not angry at all.’





Eighty-Five





‘Do you think he protests too much?’ Bryant asked as Matilda’s lesson came to an end.

She watched as the man exchanged pleasantries with the tutor before taking his daughter’s hand. Matilda skipped away with her prized painting clutched in her palm.

‘Dunno,’ she answered. The man had seemed well balanced, astute, intelligent and on the face of it a loving and supportive father.

Kim continued to watch the tutor pack away her belongings into a pull-along case.

‘I don’t see what she’s got to offer us,’ Bryant said, following her gaze.

‘She teaches these kids. She may have some insight for us,’ Kim argued.

‘We’re wasting our time, guv,’ he said, moving away.

She stayed still. ‘Feel free to wander around the hotel asking folks if they’ve been on a murder spree recently, but I’m gonna find out what’s between this woman and our effervescent organiser.’

Bryant shrugged and followed Damien Crouch and his daughter towards the exit.

Kim approached her from the left.

The women’s eyes filled with wariness before she nodded, looking around at the empty tables. She frowned and turned her head, revealing a thin white scar that travelled from her cheekbone to the corner of her mouth.

The woman’s expression dared her to ignore its presence.

‘DI Kim Stone,’ she said, offering her hand. The woman lowered the pile of papers back down to the table and shook her hand. No wedding rings, just a simple signet ring on her right hand.

‘Ellie Lewis,’ she said, offering no more. ‘How can I help you?’

No small talk. Kim liked that.

‘You’re here with the event, obviously?’ Kim clarified.

The woman shook her head. ‘I’m not connected with the event. I’m here under instruction from the parents. I’m a private tutor, paid for my services to ensure that their children’s continued education doesn’t suffer during the event.’

‘It’s two days’ long,’ Kim said, wondering how much learning they could lose in such a short space of time. ‘And isn’t this event kind of studying?’ she asked.

‘No, officer. Many gifted children are taught to see learning as fun.’

Yeah. Kim wasn’t too sure about that.

‘So, you and Serena get along?’

‘As well as we need to,’ she answered.

Bloody hell this woman was making her look like a chatterbox.

‘Feel free to…’

‘I don’t care much for skirting, officer,’ she said with a half-smile. ‘If there’s a question in your mouth then ask it.’

‘Okay, you two appeared to be having words in the restaurant last night.’

‘I think you’ll find Serena did most of the talking.’

‘If you could just…’

‘But you’re right. She was unhappy with me. I was tutoring an eleven-year-old girl named Carrie Bruce whose mother wanted a ninety-eight per cent pass rate on the history test I’d set her. The child had to re-sit the test and was late to a chess game. Serena tried to insist that I work with her to ensure the children get to their events on time.’