Dead Memories (D.I. Kim Stone #10)(40)

The second emotional response was to the man sitting behind the desk to the left. The right one was empty.

The snapshot that immediately clicked into his mind was of self-importance. The left desk was bigger. It had two chairs on the other side instead of one, the computer was newer, there was a small collection of metal toys, the chair was executive leather. This was a man who enjoyed his position.

‘Mr Jenks?’ Penn said, offering his hand.

The man nodded, stood and returned the greeting with a cool, firm grip.

DS Penn from West Mids Police, do you have a minute?’

‘Of course,’ he said, sitting. ‘Is this about Mark and Amy?’

‘It is. We just need to clear up something that’s come to our attention,’ he said, smiling.

Penn had learned long ago that he had a knack for putting people at ease. He knew that his long, unruly curls and inability to be at peace in a suit made him appear more casual, more open. Some people trusted the smart reassurance of a well-worn suit and some people did not. He had also learned how to hide his feelings well.

The man fussed with the tie knot at his throat.

‘It’s just a little misunderstanding I should think, Mr Jenks, but we’ve been informed there was some kind of altercation between yourself and Mark.’

The colour in his cheeks deepened.

‘Did he hit you, Mr Jenks?’ he pushed.

Hesitation. Headshake no. Head nod yes.

‘Well. I suppose not really… I mean…’

‘Sorry, Mr Jenks, you’ll have to be a bit clearer,’ he offered with a reassuring smile.

‘We were just having words.’

‘About what?’ he asked, remembering what the boss had told him about this man’s reputation.

‘Disrespect, I would imagine,’ he said, fiddling with his tie knot.

Penn didn’t need Alison the behaviourist beside him to understand what that meant. Subconsciously, by messing with the tie Jenks was trying to reinforce that he was a stand up respectable kind of guy.

‘Disrespect?’

Jenks nodded. ‘That’s what most trouble is about here. People disrespecting the services we provide.’

Penn idly wondered if any of the services had ever been used.

‘Did the argument get physical?’ he asked.

‘Maybe a bit of pushing and shoving,’ he said, getting more comfortable in what he was saying.

The best lies were based on truth, Penn knew.

‘Only we heard that he punched you and gave you a black eye,’ Penn said, without changing his tone.

Tie fiddle.

Headshake.

‘Absolutely not, Sergeant. His hand may have caught the side of my face as he was gesturing but it was purely accidental, I’m sure.’

‘Which is why you didn’t report him?’ Penn offered amiably.

‘Of course, of course,’ he said, eagerly, and Penn could see the man thought he had the upper hand with this conversation.

‘Kids have got enough trouble without stuff like that. They live life on the edge, no home, no idea where the next meal is coming from, no security. Their emotions live very close to the surface and I didn’t want to spoil things for them.’

Penn mumbled his understanding. ‘Yes, so, it must be terrible when you start to hear there are rumours, especially when you’re doing everything you can to—’

‘Rumours about what, Sergeant?’

‘Oh nothing, it’s just something we heard about—’

‘Well, if it concerns me then I’d certainly like to know what it is.’

The fact that the man couldn’t let him finish a sentence in his eagerness to find out, and the forced tone of righteousness, gave away his nerves and knowledge of what was coming.

‘I’m sure it comes with the territory but there are people that say you offer the women that come here extra help for sexual favours.’

Penn would have bet his car the man’s right hand was going to touch the tie knot again. And he would have won.

‘Oh, that is ridiculous,’ he blustered with indignation. ‘Why the devil…’

‘Why indeed?’ Penn agreed. ‘But, obviously, we have no proof of—’

‘Obviously,’ he repeated. ‘Because it’s completely untrue.’

‘So, what else can you tell me about the two of them?’ Penn asked. The man would speak more freely if he did not feel under threat.

‘Some saw the pair of them as ungrateful if you want the truth, myself included.’

‘How so?’

‘Amy was a perfect candidate for the sponsor a room project. She came off the drugs and she was placed in a studio above a Chinese takeaway in Lye, but she lost it.’

‘Why?’ Penn asked.

‘She couldn’t abide by the rules. She wasn’t allowed male visitors, and of course she sneaked Mark in more than once. She got found out and had to leave.’

‘Shame,’ Penn observed.

‘Thousands of other girls just waiting to take her place,’ he offered coolly.

Penn couldn’t help the jolt of sympathy inside. Sounded to him as though the kids had just wanted to be together.

Penn remembered something he’d said earlier. ‘You said you didn’t want to report Mark for fear of spoiling something for them. Spoil what?’