Alex bristled as she passed by him. Although it was only just after 9 a.m. she detected the faint smell of body odour.
She took the seat on the nearside of the desk. There were two framed photographs: one of a plain blonde woman with an unfortunate-looking daughter; the other picture, which was double the size, was of himself and a German Shepherd. She supposed that said it all.
He squeezed around the desk and sat down. The material of his navy jacket strained around his shoulders. She wondered if he was also trying to stretch his current wardrobe to the end of his career.
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t able to see you yesterday, Alexandra, but I was at an all-day meeting with the Chief Inspectorate.’
Alex inwardly groaned. There had been no requirement for any kind of explanation but his ego demanded it. She was unimpressed and irritated.
‘Mr Edwards, I do not believe that we are acquainted in any way, and I would be appreciative if you would refrain from using my first name.’
Alex held his gaze. He coloured but said nothing.
Good, she was pleased that they had that straight.
She would not be reduced to being treated as though she bore any resemblance to the rest of the pitiful idiots inside these walls. He may be the big dog in this pen, but she ate big dogs for breakfast.
He opened his hands and smiled insincerely. ‘So, would you like to tell me exactly what happened?’
‘Yes, I was savagely attacked by one of your inmates, and I am deeply perturbed that I was placed in a position of grave danger.’
Alex touched her swollen eye for effect.
‘Yes, very strange business.’ He looked at the file on his desk, searching for a name. ‘Cassie Yates has been a model prisoner. You understand that we could not have foreseen such a brutal attack?’
Alex narrowed her eyes. ‘I’m not so sure my lawyer would agree with you there, Mr Edwards. If you had no suspicion of one of your charges acting in such an aggressive manner, then obviously you had not delved deeply enough into her psyche because clearly it happened.’
He could not dispute the condition of her face. It was staring right at him.
‘Well, yes, I see that but are you sure that there was nothing you did… ?’
‘Really, Mr Edwards,’ Alex exploded. ‘Are you really going to try and blame me for this attack?’
His face reddened even more and he held up his hands. ‘No, no… ’
‘It certainly sounds as though you are trying to apportion blame to me, Mr Edwards, which will be stated very clearly in the letters I intend to write to the Chief Inspectorate about the safety of this facility.’
As Alex began to wonder who had been called in to see whom, she saw panic leap into his eyes. Yes, it was time he realised that he wasn’t dealing with one of the many gimps that lined this place wall to wall. Under his supervision the prison had leapt from seventh to second place for incidents of assault between prisoners. She knew full well that his career could not take another scandal; it was an integral part of her plan.
‘Slow down, Ms Thorne, I think this incident warrants further discussion.’
‘There is nothing further to discuss. You have failed to protect me from a dangerous criminal, and I intend to ensure that I am not placed in a vulnerable position again.’
Realisation began to dawn on his face. He picked up a pencil and began shaking it between his fingers.
‘Aah, I understand, Ms Thorne. You’d like to be placed in a single cell so that nothing like this happens again?’
His smug smile was amusing to her. Did he really think she was that simple to understand?
She shook her head. ‘No, Mr Edwards, that’s not what I want at all.’ For the first time she smiled. ‘Both Tanya Neale and I have spare beds. I would like her to be moved in with me.’
She was rewarded when he dropped the pencil onto the desk and his mouth hung open. She waited a full thirty seconds for him to speak.
‘Who on earth do you think you are coming in here to make demands? May I remind you that you are a prisoner in this facility and—’
‘And I have not been protected,’ Alex said, sitting forward. ‘Which both the newspapers and the Chief Inspectorate will be hearing about if I don’t get what I want.’ She took a moment to smile. ‘And while I’m writing the letters I may inadvertently refer to an incident whereby a formal complaint was hushed up after you had inappropriately touched the breasts of a young prisoner.’
Alex sat back again and crossed her legs, enjoying the colour that flooded his face. His tongue made a slight darting movement out of his mouth even though he managed to maintain eye contact.
‘How dare you try and threaten me into—’
‘It’s no threat, Mr Edwards. My solicitors have a written statement from the prisoner concerned and will be instructed to use it.’
Oh thank you, Cassie, Alex thought. She was certainly the gift that kept on giving.
Like a drowning man she saw his lifestyle, pension and a whole lot of explanations pass before his eyes.
He pulled himself up straight before he spoke.
‘Let me understand this; you have been subjected to a brutal attack by one of our mild-mannered prisoners and you are now making a request to share a cell with the single most dangerous female in the whole prison?’
Alex nodded slowly, enjoying his confusion. That he thought he could keep up with her was reward enough for the injuries she’d sustained.
‘Yes, Mr Edwards, that’s exactly what I want and your swift arrangement would be greatly appreciated.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
‘You all right, guv?’ Bryant asked.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ she asked.
‘Aah, answering a question with a question is your number one deflection – which tells me I’m right. Normally you would say “mind your own business, Bryant”.’
‘Mind your own business, Bryant,’ she said.
‘Yeah two sentences too late and I fed you the line. Oh, and your left foot hasn’t stopped tapping yet.’
She instantly stilled it in the footwell.
‘Is the prince okay?’ he asked, referring to Barney and the way she treated him.
‘Of course, why?’
‘Because the last time I saw you this distracted was when he had to go to the vets for a filling.’
‘Extraction,’ she clarified.
‘Yeah, but—’
‘Talk to me about the case, Bryant,’ she said. Thoughts of her mother and Alex were tumbling around her head.
He offered her a look before taking her advice.
‘What are your thoughts on the money?’
Kim shrugged. ‘Possibly an inheritance from either of the families or some kind of windfall but there’s definitely been an injection of cash from somewhere.’
‘Got no kids, though. So, disposable income is quite high.’
‘They’ve lived in that house for fifteen years. Deanna’s job probably paid more than Mitchell’s forty-two grand, but she only got that promotion four years ago so back when they bought it… ’
‘Zoopla says they paid almost a million for it,’ Bryant said.
‘Who the hell is Zoopla?’ she asked and then changed her mind. She didn’t want to know. ‘No way would their combined salaries have been enough to get a mortgage for anywhere near that.’
‘She held quite a responsible position, though,’ Bryant queried.
‘Still a civil servant, and we both know how that works,’ Kim answered. To her knowledge it would have been no more than seventy thousand a year and still not enough for that house.
‘What about the phone records?’ Bryant asked. ‘Any reason why the husband has delayed the permission?’
‘Absent-mindedness on his part, I’d say. There’s no doubt he loved her very much. He’s distraught.’
‘We’re ruling him out already?’ Bryant asked, surprised.
‘We’re ruling out no one. Grief can be feigned.’
> ‘What about—?’
‘Okay, Bryant, enough,’ Kim said, cutting off his next question. ‘I said talk to me about the case not conduct a second briefing.’
‘Jesus, this car trip reminds me of taking a stroppy teenager to school a few years back. Talk to me, Dad. Don’t talk to me, Dad.’
A chuckle escaped from between her lips as they pulled up outside the Brightman residence.
Kim was not surprised to see Sylvie’s sporty Mazda parked in the exact same spot as the previous day.
Anna’s Corsa was parked up too which gave Kim an idea.
‘You talk to Mitchell and Rebecca, and I’ll talk to Anna,’ Kim instructed.
Bryant looked puzzled. They didn’t need her permission. They’d got it and her alibi had checked out. Her phone had dinged a tower just two miles away from the Wolverhampton Grand, so he didn’t understand why his boss wanted to question her again.
Especially as it was the other three that possibly had something to hide.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Bryant stepped into the same room they’d spoken in the previous day and, other than a change of clothes, time could have stood still.
Today the curtains were open, revealing a wall of glass that stretched the entire room. The view comprised Halesowen town centre to the stunning Clent Hills on the other side. Bryant would have happily taken the oversized television down from the wall if he had that to look at every evening.
Mitchell Brightman was now dressed in light jeans and an open-necked rugby shirt. Short, wiry, black hairs peeped out of the top. His chin was covered with a dark stubble. Bryant guessed that a shave was just a step too far. A quick shower and getting dressed was probably as much as he could manage at this point. If he’d just lost his wife, Bryant wasn’t sure he’d have been able to manage even that. Not that he’d ever tell her.
Bryant was secure enough to acknowledge that, for a man in his early fifties, Mitchell Brightman was very attractive. He could imagine that women of all ages might be drawn to such a man, although there was no evidence to suggest that he had encouraged any such attention.
‘It’s helpful that you’re back here so early,’ Bryant offered pleasantly to Sylvie and Rebecca. ‘Makes my job easier.’
Rebecca sat on the same chair with her legs draped over the arm, swinging them to and fro. There was no acknowledgement from her, and her eyes didn’t lift from the phone.
‘No, no, we stayed over,’ Sylvie offered. ‘There are spare rooms, and I just threw on something of Deanna’s. We were a similar size.’
Mitchell turned to look at Sylvie as though he hadn’t even noticed. And the fleeting anger told Bryant that he certainly hadn’t been asked for permission.
Fresh sadness swept through Mitchell’s eyes as he saw the light blue quarter length trousers and flowered blouse that she wore.
Bryant couldn’t help the faint distaste he felt in his mouth. Yes, they were sisters and, it appeared, quite close but still…
‘I just needed to check with you about the permission to the phone companies so that we can—’
‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry,’ Mitchell said, shaking his head. ‘It clean went out of my mind once you left.’
‘It’s fine, Mr Brightman,’ he said, holding up his hand to stop the explanation, which looked genuine to him. It was perfectly understandable.
‘I gave mine,’ Sylvie said, twirling the stone encrusted bangle on her left wrist.
Bryant nodded but found himself wondering if she was wearing the jewellery of her dead sister too.
‘Rebecca?’ Bryant said, as Sylvie’s gaze followed his.
‘What?’ she said, without looking up.
‘Rebecca,’ Sylvie snapped, and he was grateful.
His own teenager’s tantrums had lasted all of one day. He remembered a particularly awful show of bad manners one day when Laura was fourteen years old. Laura had returned home from school to find her mother out and a note on the kitchen table. He remembered it word for word.
Dear Laura,
As you see fit to speak to me as though I am your servant and employee, I have decided that I no longer want this job and have quit.
Your gym kit is scrunched in the corner of your room where you left it, your bed is unmade and your dinner is whatever you choose to cook from the freezer.
It had taken only two hours for Laura to call and apologise.
Neither he nor his wife could stomach bad manners, he thought, as all eyes turned to Rebecca.
‘I don’t see why I have to—’
‘We can get a warrant, Rebecca, but it would just be easier if you gave your permission,’ he said, demonstrating more patience than he felt.
‘Okay, then,’ she said, nonchalantly, although her feet were no longer swinging.
Bryant bit back the words that were trying to burst out of his mouth. She wasn’t his daughter to chastise.
He stood. ‘That’s all for now. Thank you both.’
Mitchell stood. ‘I’ll walk you out,’ he said.
‘It’s fine, I know the way.’
‘It’s no trouble, officer,’ Mitchell insisted.
Bryant shrugged and turned towards the hallway, from where he could see the front door.
Yet, Mitchell Brightman was two steps behind him.
Bryant opened the front door and stepped outside.
‘Well, thank you for your assistance, Mr Brightman.’
Mitchell Brightman put his hands deep into his pockets and rocked forward on the balls of his feet.
Bryant wondered at the purpose of this escort to the doorway.
Mitchell Brightman opened his mouth and asked him a very strange question.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
‘So, how’s he doing?’ Kim asked Anna once they were in the kitchen.
‘Much as you’d expect,’ she said, wearily. ‘A great deal of time spent staring out of windows. Walking from room to room, hoping his grief won’t follow him. Hiding the fact he’s been crying,’ she said, lowering cups into the soapy water. ‘Why do men do that?’ she asked.
Kim shrugged and took a step closer. ‘I need to ask you something.’
‘Of course you do,’ Anna said, placing a soapy cup onto the drainer.
‘Was Deanna seeing someone?’
The question had been nudging forward in her mind since they’d learned of Deanna’s absence at the Italian restaurant.
Anna’s hands stilled in the sink.
‘Why would you ask me that?’
Because she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, Kim thought. And lying about your activities to your husband normally only meant one thing.
‘I have my reasons,’ Kim said.
Anna resumed washing up but said nothing.
‘You haven’t said no.’
‘Inspector, I’m here as a part-time housekeeper not a CCTV camera. I don’t watch their every move. Deanna was a very kind and charitable woman who cared deeply for her husband.’
Kim noted the tears that filled her eyes.
‘But you still haven’t said no.’
Silence.
Kim continued. ‘It’s not disloyal to her memory to tell us anything that might help us catch the person who killed her, especially if it was someone that she knew,’ Kim offered.
Anna’s head snapped around. ‘You’re not saying—’
‘I’m saying we have to rule out the involvement of anyone that knew her but we need to know where to look.’
Anna dried her hands on the tea towel.
‘I don’t know anything,’ she said, reaching up to open a cupboard door. The door was heavy and appeared to sag on its hinges.
‘Bloody snagging works,’ Anna growled. ‘Kitchen fitter was here for weeks and the job still isn’t finished. Nice looking bloke but completely unreliable,’ she said looking at Kim directly.
‘What’s his name?’ Kim asked, playing along. ‘Just so I know not to use him, of course.’
‘Jason Cross. I’m s
ure you’ll find him in the yellow pages.’
‘Thank you, Anna. Thank you very much.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Kim found Bryant standing against the car.
‘Get it?’ she asked about the permission.
‘And more,’ he answered.
She held up her hand and took out her phone. Stacey answered on the second ring.
‘Stace, get me details for a kitchen fitter named Jason Cross when you can.’
Stacey acknowledged the request, and Kim ended the call.
Bryant frowned.
‘He may be able to tell us where she was the night she died,’ Kim said, meaningfully.
‘She was seeing the kitchen guy?’
Kim shrugged. ‘That’s what we’re going to find out.’ She nodded back towards the house. ‘The hair certainly didn’t come from any of them.’
‘Interesting,’ he said. ‘Just like the question Mitchell Brightman asked me away from the others.’
‘Which was?’
‘If he would have to explain everything we found on his mobile phone.’
Kim’s hand paused on the door handle, and she looked back at the house.
‘Bryant, what the hell have we opened up here?’
‘Your guess is as good… ’
His words trailed away as her phone rang.
She frowned when she saw it was Keats. They had nothing outstanding.
‘Stone,’ she answered.
‘Inspector, I hope you’re not too busy… ’
‘Oh, just chilling with Bryant, as normal. You know how it is.’
‘As I thought. Well, you might want to happen along to my location, if you have a minute.’
‘You’re inviting me over to your place, Keats?’ she asked. He very rarely volunteered to see her by choice.
‘I am inviting you, Inspector, to a crime scene because I think this is something you need to see.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Alex sat on the bed and waited patiently. The bed opposite had been stripped and all Cassie’s possessions had been removed. The woman had been gone for less than twenty-four hours, and Alex could barely remember what she looked like. She had no idea where Cassie was now or what would happen to her, and the beauty of it was, she didn’t care.
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