Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(28)

She had an adorable little head shake to dislodge the unruly curls from her eyes. I remember her eyelashes. They were long and black, framing eyes that were as blue as the summer sky. Her cheeks were rosy and round and she had happy lips. That’s how I’ve always remembered them, Mummy, as happy lips because even when she was frowning her lips looked like they were having fun.

I liked her, Mummy, and you liked her too.

I was so excited when she came for tea that night. It was the very first time and I couldn’t wait. She was dressed in a bright yellow frock that reflected her golden hair. She wore brilliant white stockings that made her legs look like chubby little tree trunks. Her white buckle shoes were finished off with polka-dot bows that matched the one in her hair.

She was excited and so was I.

We played so nicely at first. A game that you chose. We giggled and chuckled and you smiled at us both. Oh, Mummy, how I loved to see that smile.

You left the room to make our tea. It was going to be sausage, egg and beans – my favourite.

Lindsay nudged me and I fell over. I giggled as I nudged her back. Within minutes we were wrestling all over the floor. We were laughing and playing, our dresses and best clothes were getting creased and ripped, but we didn’t care. We were too busy laughing to notice.

You stepped back into the room and the look on your face had changed. I knew I’d done something wrong.

You called Lindsay’s father to collect her and she never came back again.

You always made my friends leave, Mummy, and now I must do the same.





Twenty





Kim had read through the file before she’d taken Barney for his nightly walk.

The humidity of the night had dissuaded her from the drive to the Clent Hills. Even with all the windows down, the small car was like a Dudley furnace working overtime.

She wasn’t sure Barney was all that bothered about where they walked. A field was a field and his nose went into overdrive picking up the new scents wherever they went. Owner projection, she considered, made her think Barney preferred a car trip to the local beauty spot.

He plonked himself on the rug in the middle of the room while she returned to the paper explosion at the dining table. Her mind had been busy as they’d walked the park.

Yes, Bob appeared to be a mystery but surely not an unfathomable one. Many questions were rattling around in her head.

Why that particular reservoir – did it hold any significance? Was Bob a fisherman? Had the locals known him? Why had it been so important to hide his identity? Were his stomach contents important? What about the items found in his pocket… what help could they get from some pound coins and a raffle ticket?

There was nothing remarkable about Bob. He was an overweight middle-aged man who had been found on the edge of a reservoir. He was an average guy that no one seemed to have missed, but he was something to someone and that was what bothered her. If nothing else he had been someone’s son.

‘Damn it, Bob,’ she said, picking up the file. She already knew that this man’s story had wormed its way under her skin. Tracy Frost may not have known that she was pressing Kim’s activate buttons, but they had been pressed all the same.

Her interest wasn’t purely due to the mystery of his missing hands; it was because nobody fought for the average guy. Unsolved cases were periodically reassessed, but Bob was unlikely to be the cream that rose to the top. He was low profile and nobody was chasing for a result, so other cases would always take priority. He would remain the property of the coroner with a tag of ‘unidentified male’.

Not if I can help it, big guy, Kim thought.

The précis report she’d picked up from Brierley Hill offered her an overview of the basics but no detail of the investigation, posing even more questions in her mind. How much effort had gone into trying to find out who this man had been? Was he a father? A grandfather? Had he known his killer was coming?

Her mind was fragmenting into so many lines of enquiry that the sound of her phone startled her.

Instantly she bristled. If this was Tracy bloody Frost again, she’d arrest her for harassment.

‘Stone,’ she answered.

‘In-Inspector, is that… that you?’

The trembling male voice ruled out Frost.

‘It is,’ she answered, frowning.

‘Professor Wright from W-Westerley.’

She sat forwards, her mind cleared of everything except the voice on the other end of the line.

‘Professor…?’

‘There’s a… another one, Inspector.’

Kim was already on her feet and reaching for her jacket.

‘Professor, don’t let anyone touch—’

‘Please hurry, Detective Inspector. This poor woman is still alive.’





Twenty-One





As Kim waited for the gate to move aside, Bryant’s Astra pulled up behind her. The gate began to move, and she drove through once the gap was a foot and a half wide.

She was off the bike and heading into the office as Bryant parked the car.

Darren, the night security guard, sat at the small round table. His hands were trembling around a mug of something.

The colour of his skin had not yet returned to its natural state.

‘Did you touch her?’ Kim asked urgently.