Dead Memories (D.I. Kim Stone #10)(92)

She offered him a brief smile before continuing her journey to the car.

‘It could be over, you know,’ Bryant said, falling into step beside her. ‘There have been no incidents since Duggar’s death. We know he was with Billie and then disappeared. This could be some totally unconnected incident. It’s unlikely this guy is without enemies. Maybe one of them just got to him in the nick of time and did us a favour.’

‘Hmmm…’

‘You don’t sound convinced.’

‘Hmmm…’ she repeated.

‘I’m lost,’ he said, scratching his head. ‘If you didn’t think Duggar was our guy and that this was the end of it, why didn’t you ask Keats more questions?’

Kim remained silent as she got into the car.

Bryant didn’t understand that just the sight of John Duggar lying dead on the ground had told her everything she needed to know.

Yes, there was no doubt that John Duggar had hated her.

But someone else hated her more.





One Hundred Eighteen





‘So, where was the blood?’ Kim asked, as Bryant tried again to convince her that Duggar was their man.

A quick call to Keats had confirmed that he detected no traces of blood on the man’s clothing or shoes that were not consistent with the man’s own injury.

Penn and Stacey continued to watch the exchange as though at a tennis match.

Bryant rubbed at his head in frustration. ‘I don’t—’

‘If Duggar assaulted Billie with that bottle there’d be some of her blood on him.’

He made a face. ‘Keats might have made a mistake. How the hell could he tell there was only the man’s own blood on—’

Kim held out her phone. ‘About ten years of training and thirty years of experience but feel free to call and question his judgement. Not sure you’d still be his favourite detective but knock yourself out.’

Bryant ignored the gesture. ‘Duggar could have had time to change and—’

‘Where?’ she asked, with growing frustration. ‘We were at his house. Blood-soaked clothing might have caught our attention, don’t you think?’

‘We didn’t do a full search, guv,’ he replied patiently.

‘And what about all this, Bryant?’ she asked, standing next to the board and the questions she’d posed.

‘How did Duggar tempt Amy and Mark to the flat?’

‘How did Duggar get hold of the drug found in most of our victims?’

‘Who ordered the book and where is it now?’

‘Did Duggar meet the Phelpses at prison?’

‘Why was Duggar suddenly violent with Billie? And now we have even more questions. What’s Ernest Beckett’s role in this?’

The room fell silent in response to her words.

‘Damn it, guys,’ she growled, smacking the desk in frustration. ‘Are we really going to accept Duggar’s death as serendipity and leave those questions unanswered while we pat ourselves on the fucking back?’

Everyone looked away until eventually Penn braved the silence. ‘But, boss, we can tie Duggar to at least—’

‘At least isn’t good enough, Penn,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘And Bryant, just because you want it to be over doesn’t mean it is. Now I’m going to brief Woody, so if you can answer all these questions by the time I get back, we’ll close the case, head down the pub to celebrate and the first round is on me.’





One Hundred Nineteen





‘You ready?’ Symes asked Lord and Preece.

They both nodded and he could feel the excitement building in his loins. Not long now and he’d be out of here and on his way to give that bitch exactly what she needed. After which he’d probably hand himself in. Could even be back by bedtime.

‘Just a couple of minutes down there will do it, okay?’

‘Got it,’ they said as Lord approached the table least receptive to the presence of a black man.

He sat down. ‘Hey, blud.’

The group of skinheads looked from one to the other and then at Lord. ‘You on some kind of bet, blud?’ one of them asked with emphasis on the last word.

‘Just taking the weight off, ya get me?’

‘Mate, for your own sake…’

‘Free country,’ said Preece, moving in. ‘Man can sit where—’

Seven skinheads stood at the same time as the attention of the whole wing focussed on that middle table.

Symes moved towards the hostility and got himself into position. ‘Come on, let the man…’

His words trailed away as chief skinhead threw a punch at Lord. Lord grabbed his arm, easily and twisted him around, pushing him back into his gang. The eruption came as onlookers surged forward at the same second the gang retaliated. Symes started counting as he lowered himself to the ground just a foot away from the scrabble.

He could hear the guards shouting from the gate but they wouldn’t enter the space without riot gear.

He took the instrument he’d stolen from the dentist suite and dug into his scalp with the hook that was normally reserved for being pushed up into teeth and dragged it across. Immediately blood gushed from the wound.