Dead Memories (D.I. Kim Stone #10)(50)

‘You let me down, buddy,’ he spat, cracking his knuckles.

Birdy ran his hand through his prematurely receding hairline. ‘I got her, man. Fucked her up real good. Gave her a beating she won’t forget in a—’

‘Cos you hated her, yeah?’

‘Yeah, man. You know I fucking did. What she did to me was—’

‘She copped you for aggravated burglary and ABH, yeah? Your missus lost the house while you was inside? Your kids suffered. Your missus met someone else,’ Symes said, taking a minute to remind Birdy why he’d hated the slag. ‘Your bitch was sucking someone else’s cock while you were banged up in here?’

‘That’s why I did what you asked and gave her—’

‘When?’

The bastard had only been out for ten days.

Birdy started to relax. ‘About a week ago.’

Symes tipped his head. ‘Strange, cos she was here the other day without a fucking scratch on her,’ Symes said.

‘Nah, man, can’t be. She—’

The first punch hit Birdy square on the nose and knocked him backwards. Symes enjoyed the rush of pleasure that travelled straight from his knuckles to the part of him crying out for satisfaction. The sound of cracking bone offered him satisfaction, as the blood exploded from his nose.

‘You were welcomed into my club, you fuck. You enjoyed the benefits and only had to do one fucking thing. You let me down, brother.’

As he landed blow after blow, kick after kick, heard bones break and skin tear he wondered at some inmates’ need for a weapon to cause a bit of bodily harm. Where was the fun in that? he thought as he looked down at the quivering bloody and broken mess on the ground.

Enough fun for now.

Now it was down to business.

And for that he did need a weapon.





Sixty-Five





Kim envied the long slow drink Bryant took from the glass of water. It felt as though he was doing it on her behalf following that admission about her mother.

‘Why you?’ Kim asked.

‘Because no one else seemed bothered. Once it came out your mother was mentally unwell everyone started worrying about covering their behinds to avoid being the reason for the breakdown in an inept system. Everyone was too busy trying to redirect the blame. Don’t get me wrong – the police had a half-hearted search, asked the neighbours some questions, but were easily diverted onto other cases needing their attention.’

‘But not you?’ she asked.

He shook his head. ‘I can’t even explain to you what drove me,’ he said, honestly. ‘But your face as you were carried out of the building never left my mind.’

‘So, how’d you find her?’ Kim asked.

‘Police didn’t ask the right neighbours the right questions. They focussed on the ones that lived closest thinking they’d know her and her movements the best. I’d already learned that what you need are the nosey neighbours. Wherever they live. The nosey neighbours don’t just observe and watch, they ask and talk, trying to find out everything about everyone. There was a man in his sixties, a widower, who made it his business to know everyone’s habits. And he knew quite a bit about your mother.’

‘Where was she?’ Kim asked trying to visualise where her mother was while she’d been in hospital fighting for her life.

‘She was drunk, off her meds in a squat in West Bromwich.’

‘You spoke to her?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘Asked her if she had any idea what she’d done to you and Mikey.’

‘And?’ Kim asked, wanting a drink of Bryant’s water more than ever. The revelation that this man had actually spoken to her mother had dried every drop of saliva in her mouth. She had no doubt about what she was going to hear about her mother’s reaction to news about her and Mikey but she felt compelled to hear it anyway, however hard it was to be reminded of her mother’s disregard for the life of herself and her brother.

‘You don’t want to—’

‘What did she say?’ Kim asked, as her teeth clenched together.

‘She asked me who you were.’

Bryant looked down into his glass.

‘I called the police and waited until they got there. The whole conversation is recounted word for word in the book if you’d—’

‘No, thank you,’ she said, trying to keep her mind on the case. ‘But in the book, did you mention about the cream crackers?’

He frowned and nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘Where did you learn of that?’ Bryant asked.

‘Police officer, I think, or may have been a paramedic but definitely someone who was there at the scene. They saw the packet.’

So, Stacey might have been right.

‘Have you sold any books recently?’ Kim asked.

He shook his head and stood.

‘Please follow me,’ he said.

Bryant finished the water and followed the man along the hall.

He opened a door into a small study which looked out onto a small but busy garden with low fences that showed the countryside beyond.

Her gaze immediately went to a box in the corner. She guessed there were about ten copies or so. The cover was the silhouette of a little girl beneath the words The Lost Child. She looked away as Henry Reed leafed through a folder.