Dead Memories (D.I. Kim Stone #10)(74)

She heard feet on the stairs.

‘Thanks, hun, see you later,’ and then a door closed.

‘Hello?’

‘Tilly Neale? My name is Jane Lowe and I’m just signing off some statements regarding the Beverly Wright case. May I just go through your recollection quickly? I won’t keep you long.’

‘Of course,’ she replied.

Helpful. Wary.

Alison read out key sentences and then waited for sounds of affirmation.

‘And then yourself and Tom Drury went to deep clean the toilets?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Okay, oh, hang on a second. I’m just reading Mr Drury’s statement and he said you went to the office to cash up.’

Silence. Brain churning.

‘He must… I must… one of us must have made a mistake but I’m sure we went to clean the toilets.’

‘Only Curtis said—’

‘Curtis said what? Have you spoken to him? Has he remembered anything?’

The panic in her voice set off all her alarm bells.

‘You weren’t in the toilets or the office, were you, Tilly.’

Silence.

‘I’m not a police officer but you have to tell me the truth.’

‘Oh God, I can’t. If he finds… oh no, my husband… he’ll kill…’

‘Just say it, Tilly,’ Alison urged, feeling the beads of sweat forming on her brow.

‘Okay, Curtis Swayne was with me. We were together having sex in my car.’

Alison wanted to shout it from the rooftops. She hadn’t been wrong about Curtis.

He now had an alibi for the attack on Beverly Wright.

And now Tom Drury did not.





Ninety-Six





‘Do you believe her?’ Bryant asked once they were back in the car. ‘That Nina wanted the volunteering on her CV to get back into a decent practice?’

Kim shrugged. ‘I can kind of see it in a way. Nina Croft works better with the prestige of a law practice behind her. She likes the structure, the belonging, having a bigger name behind her. It doesn’t suit her to be out here alone. Why else would she stay with Richard Croft after all she’d learned about him?’

‘But still…’

‘Look, if we can tie her to the car fire involving the Phelpses we’ll go bring her in right now.’

‘Give Alison time, she’ll probably find something,’ he said, only half-joking. ‘And now can we please start heading towards the bloody prison?’ he asked as her phone began to ring.

Kim smiled as she held the ringing phone up in front of her face, unanswered. ‘Oh Frost, I’d love to answer you but I can’t. Boss says I can’t talk to the press and I was gonna give you an exclusive on this one but—’

‘Guv, you’ve lost it,’ Bryant chuckled as the ringing stopped.

As she returned the phone to her pocket it began to ring again.

‘Jesus, she’s persistent… aah, Stacey,’ she said, pressing the answer button. ‘Whatever it is we can’t do it,’ Kim said, glancing at her colleague. ‘The acting boss here is insisting we head over to Winson Green.’

‘Yeah,’ Stacey said breathlessly. ‘That’s exactly where I want you to go. I’ve found the Phelps’ son, Joel Greene. He hasn’t been travelling at all. He’s been in prison for just over a year.’





Ninety-Seven





Penn knocked on the door of the end terrace in Colley Gate.

As the two strands of what both he and Stacey were investigating had come together, they’d agreed that he would come and speak to Billie’s family and she would continue trying to trace Duggar’s whereabouts. He had to admit he was beginning to get a very bad feeling in his gut about John Duggar.

The door was opened by a frail-looking man with reddened eyes.

‘Mr Styles?’ he asked.

The man nodded and stood aside.

Penn entered. ‘I’m here about Billie,’ he said. Her father was much older than he’d imagined.

‘The nice police constable told me someone would come,’ he said, shuffling down the hall. From his own experience with his mother Penn guessed the man needed a new hip.

Penn followed him into a small lounge that, although old fashioned, looked clean and comfortable.

He eased himself down into the single chair, slowly.

Penn sat on the two-seater sofa.

‘How is she?’ he asked.

‘You haven’t been to see her?’ Penn asked, before he could help himself.

The man shook his head sadly, and Penn wondered if it was a mobility issue.

‘She’s stable,’ Penn offered. ‘Not out of the woods yet but she’s alive and given the nature and extent of her—’

Mr Styles held up his hand and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t hear that again.’

‘Sir, may I ask if Billie is?…’

‘My granddaughter,’ he said, staring at the carpet. ‘My daughter died of breast cancer at the age of forty-five. Billie was nine and came to us. There was no one else.’

‘Her father?’

‘Never met him. It was only Sylvia and Billie until…’ His words trailed away as he wiped at his eyes again.