‘He didn’t shoot me,’ Billy offered swiftly.
‘Well, thank you for that clarification and, although it’s nice to finally hear your voice, you may have spoken prematurely.
‘We haven’t arrested your father for your accident. We’ve arrested him for murder.’
Billy visibly paled, and the blinking went into overdrive.
‘Because we think he put them there.’
Billy began to shake his head.
‘You don’t know that for certain though, do you, Billy?’ Travis asked. ‘And seeing as you won’t share what you do know, we’re forced to draw our own conclusions.’
‘Have you arrested my sister?’ he asked.
‘Now, why would you ask us that, Billy?’ Travis asked. ‘Why on earth would we arrest your sister?’
Kim had a sudden thought. She raised herself from the chair, as Travis continued speaking, and headed back to the nurse’s station. The harassed woman who had tended to Billy was busy rubbing someone’s name from the board. Kim hoped it was because they’d been released.
‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Could you tell me the last time Fiona Cowley was here to see Billy?’
The nurse shook her head. ‘Not for a couple of days, now,’ she said.
‘Are you sure?’ Kim asked. Fiona had been fiercely protective of her younger brother.
‘Trust me, officer, I feel like I’ve barely left the place myself for the last six days except for a few hours’ sleep. If she’d been to visit, I’d know.’
Kim thanked her and headed back towards the bed thoughtfully.
‘… can you even begin to imagine the pain of one of those traps snapping around your ankle?’ Travis was asking, making a grabbing gesture with his fingers.
The horror was written all over Billy’s face.
‘Officer, I want to speak to my sister.’
Yeah, Kim thought, funnily enough, so do I.
SEVENTY-SEVEN
Bryant threw his jacket and scarf onto the spare desk and headed to the coffee machine. It was the same sludge they’d left a few hours ago but it would be wet and warm while they waited for Stacey.
‘So what did you think of Fred Windsor?’ Bryant asked.
Dawson had been quiet while they’d fought their way out of Birmingham city centre.
‘Brave guy,’ he said, staring at Stacey’s empty chair. ‘He’s been through it, I’ll give him that, but I feel like there’s no hope.’
Bryant, for once, actually knew what he meant. And agreed.
The job they did, the energy they expended, was all based on hope. Hope they would rid the streets of bad people. Every person they put away was a grain of sand but it was an actual grain of sand. It was one fewer. It was tangible.
A person committed a crime, you caught him, put him away. Job done, tidy. But how to contain hate? How do you lock up an ideal that spreads around like a common cold? If it was true that no one looked like a murderer, then it was doubly true of a hatemonger.
They had learned that much from both Gary Flint and Fred Windsor.
He was reminded that Stacey had already warned them that real danger was not necessarily from the racists in plain sight.
‘Where the bloody hell is she?’ Dawson asked, taking out his phone. Bryant took a sip of his drink.
‘Ringing and then voicemail,’ he said, holding his phone in the air.
Bryant glanced at her desk. She hadn’t gone far. Papers were scattered over it, and her satchel was parked on the floor by her chair.
‘Canteen?’ Dawson said, pulling his chair back.
Bryant nodded.
Dawson sighed and left the room.
Their discussion with Fred Windsor had left them more in the dark than before. Having nothing back yet from forensics meant they were reliant on any type of snippet from Stacey. Why had these particular individuals been identified as hate crime victims? How had they been identified and chosen? Was there any link between the victims and the perpetrators?
Bryant realised how often they were in this position during big cases; relying on Stacey to uncover something that would point them in the right direction.
‘Not there,’ Dawson said, from the doorway. ‘Sheila hasn’t seen her all day.’
‘Try her mobile again,’ Bryant said, but Dawson’s phone was already out of his pocket.
‘Voicemail again,’ he said.
Bryant grabbed his office phone and called down to the front desk.
He put the phone on loudspeaker. ‘Hey Jack, you seen DC Wood today?’
‘What do you think I am?’ he asked in his customary grizzly manner that was not reserved only for arrestees being booked into the cells.
‘Jack, it’s important,’ Bryant pushed.
‘Tore out of here about an hour ago,’ he said. ‘Don’t know how long she was gone. Missed her coming back in.’
Bryant swallowed. ‘So, you don’t know if she actually came back in?’
‘Listen, mate—’
‘Thanks, Jack,’ Bryant said, ending the call.
Bryant followed Dawson out the door. They raced down the stairs and out of the building.
Dawson turned right, Bryant turned left; both scoured the area looking for anything that might offer them a clue.
They met at the rear of the building.
‘Nothing,’ he said.
‘Ring her phone again,’ Bryant said.
The panic was churning his stomach.
‘Rings, then to voicemail,’ Dawson said. ‘So, it’s not switched off. So, maybe she can’t answer it,’ he added, confirming Bryant’s worst fears.
He began walking forward, away from the building and towards the road. There was a part of him that thought he might spot her walking towards him with an armful of sandwiches.
He looked left and right. Nothing.
Dawson was still holding his phone.
‘Fuck, Kev, where the hell?—’
‘Shhh,’ Dawson said, sharply.
Bryant stood still.
Vaguely, he could hear the theme tune to Game of Thrones. Stacey’s ringtone.
It stopped.
‘Ring it again,’ Bryant said, as the dread grew more sickly in his stomach.
The ringing sounded, and Dawson held out his phone as though it was some kind of homing beacon.
‘Over here,’ Dawson said, heading towards shrubbery at the edge of the car park.
The ringing grew louder.
‘Got it,’ Dawson said, pointing to an area of dirt at the edge of the kerb.
‘Oh, Jesus Christ, no,’ Dawson said, as Bryant followed his gaze.
The front of the phone had been smashed and it was covered in blood.
SEVENTY-EIGHT
‘Gum?’ Travis said, offering the packet of spearmint towards her.
She shook her head. She couldn’t recall him being a chewing gum kind of guy.
Gum was one of life’s mysteries to her. What was the point? You couldn’t swallow it. It did nothing to satisfy hunger, so why bother?
He popped one in and began to chew.
Kim steered the car through the lunchtime traffic that was slowing her down. She hid her frustration.
‘Remind me why we’re going to the Preece home instead of going directly to Fiona Cowley’s address?’ Travis asked.
When something was biting at Kim’s gut, she grew intolerant to everything that couldn’t keep up with the speed of her thinking: motor cars, other drivers, traffic lights; other people, she thought, casting a sideways glance at a loudly masticating Travis.
‘Because that woman has not yet been truthful with us once. Why did she head straight there after we arrested her father?’
He shrugged.
‘If we ask her directly she’ll be caught off guard, momentarily, but she will recover quickly and come up with some kind of cock and bull story that we can’t disprove.’
‘So, basically, you want the opportunity to call her a downright liar to her face.’
She parked between a Lotus and a Bentley convertible.
‘Do you reckon she came to see Dale?’ Travis asked, as they got out of the car.
Kim nodded. They crunched across the gravel drive.
‘Those are the two powerhouses of these two families,’ she said, as they stepped onto the stone walkway at the entrance.
Kim raised her hand to knock. Travis spat his gum to the ground.
‘Charming,’ she said, as her hand hovered over the ornate knocker.
She paused: shouting from within, and a scream.
She tried the door handle. It opened on to a scene of chaos. The elderly Robson Preece lay in a heap on the stone floor. His wheelchair was upturned beside him.
Mallory Preece stood to the side, her hand at her throat as Bart placed a hand under each armpit.
‘Not like that, you damned fool,’ Robson cried.
For a frail old man, his voice was stern and cutting.
‘Turn me over, idiot,’ he boomed. ‘You’re far too weak to lift me.’
Travis stepped forward to assist.
Robson Preece raised his head as Mallory put up a hand.
‘Don’t touch me,’ he growled, trying to wriggle himself round the floor.
Travis met his gaze. ‘Mr Preece, please allow—’
‘Get out of my house, whoever you are. Get out.’
‘I’m so sorry, Dad,’ Mallory said, stepping forward.
‘Stop snivelling, woman,’ he shouted, and Mallory visibly flinched.
Bart leaned down again and touched his grandfather’s shoulder. ‘Gramps, just move—’
‘Don’t touch me, queer. Get your brother. Get me Dale.’
Mallory ran from the hallway.
‘Gramps, I can do it,’ Bart said, kneeling by his side.
‘Get away from me, you fairy,’ he said, as Dale came running into the hallway.
He registered surprise at the presence of Kim and Travis but his priority was the man on the floor.
She noted his casual attire of jeans and sweatshirt, rather than the austere suit he’d worn the other day.
‘Get away, Bart,’ he said, pushing his brother to the side.
Kim saw the flash of emotion in Bart’s eyes. As if the dismissal from his brother was the final straw.
He said nothing but stomped out the front door.
‘In fact, can you all leave, please?’ Dale asked, kneeling beside his grandfather.
Mallory headed to the back of the house, while she and Travis stepped outside.
She spied Bart at the edge of the wall. His hands on the brick, staring down.
‘Back in a minute,’ she said to Travis.
‘You okay?’ she asked, tapping Bart lightly on the shoulder.
He turned and she saw the emotion had reached his eyes.
‘I’m fine,’ he said, trying to place a smile on his face. ‘He likes to call me names sometimes. It’s what he called me as a child. I made the mistake of showing I didn’t like it. Made him worse.’ He paused. ‘And I’m not, you know,’ he said.
‘You’re not what?’
‘Gay,’ he said.
‘Does it matter?’ she asked.
He shrugged. ‘I just wanted you to know.’
‘But he’s your grandfather,’ Kim observed. She had zero experience of grandparents but she was reasonably sure this wasn’t normal.
‘I’m a disappointment to him, Inspector. My grandfather is a man who believes that fair competition brings out the best in people.’ He shrugged. ‘He was always pitting us against each other. Who could climb highest, run fastest. My father hated it, but when he died we moved back here and my grandfather’s selection process continued.’
‘Selection process?’ she queried.
He turned and leaned his behind against the wall. She followed suit so they were both facing the house.
‘Survival of the fittest, Hunger Games, however you want to look at it but what he wanted was someone worthy to take over the business. And that someone is Dale.’
Kim tried to imagine being set against your own brother. She’d had a brother for such a short time but she couldn’t imagine being forced to compete against him.
‘Doesn’t Dale mind?’
Bart shrugged. ‘He’s a good guy, don’t get me wrong. Cast in the same mould as my grandfather but I love him. We’re just beyond being any other way,’ he said, as Mallory appeared in the doorway.
She spied her younger son and began moving in his direction. He offered her a look of disgust and walked away.
Perhaps her silence was one betrayal too far.
‘You can go in, now,’ she said to Kim, wringing her hands and staring after her younger son, although she made no effort to follow him.
Travis turned to the woman. ‘Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?’ he asked.
Mallory again looked flustered, and Kim realised it didn’t take a lot.
‘Yes, yes, there’s a restroom at the top of the stairs.’
‘I’ll join you in the office,’ he said, indicating she should continue without him.
Kim feared for his ageing bladder. He’d used the toilet before they’d left the hospital.
Mallory appeared torn, unsure who to follow. She opted for Kim, as Travis took the stairs two at a time.
Kim followed the woman, even though she knew where Dale’s office was. Mallory knocked and waited for an answer before entering. Kim followed closely behind.
As she stepped into the room, she noted Dale Preece close the lid of the laptop.
His grandfather was seated beside him.
There was no evidence of the frail man lying on the tiled floor just moments earlier. Despite the wheelchair, his demeanour was upright, proud. The excess skin at his turkey neck was kept in check by a starched white collar and tie. His eyes were keen and focussed.
Kim recalled Bart’s comments and found them easy to believe.
‘Where is your partner, Sergeant?’ he asked, officiously, looking behind her.
‘It’s Inspector, Mr Preece and he had to answer a call of nature.’
The irritation showed in his eyes.
‘You have come to update us on your investigation, I assume,’ he said, attempting to control the situation.
‘Amongst other things,’ she answered, taking a seat.
Dale sat back in his chair, his expression pensive. Clearly her conversation today would be with Preece senior.
‘Mr Preece, could you explain to me the history of the lease between yourself and the Cowley family?’
‘Absolutely none of your concern,’ he said easily.
‘I understand it’s a long-term lease for a minimal amount of money that hasn’t been increased—’
‘It is none of your business, officer, and certainly not pertinent to whatever it is those animals have been up to. How many bodies have you found?’
Kim ignored his question. ‘You seem convinced the Cowley family is responsible for our findings.’
He frowned and stared at her hard. ‘Inspector, are you in charge of this case?’
‘I am,’ she answered, only half lying.
‘Then I would assume that even you have mastered the art of adding one and one together to make two.’
Kim wasn’t sure what the ‘even you’ comment meant.
‘I have mastered the art of not jumping to conclusions which—’
‘Aaah, perhaps now we’ll get some answers,’ he said, as Travis stepped into the room.
Robson Preece thrust his hand across the desk in Travis’s direction. She was tempted to slap a cuff on it and arrest him for being a sexist bastard.
Travis shook the hand and nodded before glancing in her direction. She met his gaze. Her unspoken message said: You just dare undermine me in front of this arsehole and I will crush your nuts with my bare hands, or something along those lines.
He opened up his leat
her wallet and looked down.
He got it.
‘As I was saying, Mr Preece, we rely on something called evidence. We struggle to make a case without it,’ she said.
‘But you’ve arrested Jeff Cowley, so you obviously have some evidence,’ Robson emphasised, still looking at Travis. ‘I don’t see why you’re complicating it, Inspector. The bodies were found on their land and—’
‘But it’s not technically their land, is it Mr Preece?’ Kim asked, calling his attention back to her. ‘It’s your land, which is why we have to investigate all avenues.’
‘Give me the name of your superior officer, miss,’ he said, thunderously. His generous, unruly eyebrows had descended over his eyes.
She’d had enough of his condescension. She ignored his question and turned to Dale. ‘Mr Preece, we need to know the purpose of Fiona Cowley’s visit here yesterday.’
He swallowed deeply.
‘Fiona Cowley, here?’
‘Yes, Mr Preece, yesterday lunchtime,’ she clarified. ‘Fiona Cowley came here.’
He shook his head as colour suffused his cheeks. His gaze did not meet hers as he offered his answer.
‘I’m afraid I haven’t seen Fiona Cowley for years.’
SEVENTY-NINE
‘But why would he lie?’ Travis asked, as they closed the door behind them.
‘I have no idea,’ she said. ‘But this woman is going to great lengths to stay out of our way. Get on to the team and get her address and…’
She stopped speaking when she realised he wasn’t crossing the gravel beside her.
She turned to find him still standing on the clean stone entrance tiles.
He fished inside his jacket and removed an evidence bag.
She frowned as he reached down and removed his right shoe. He showed her the sole. It held a splodge of sticky pink chewing gum, covered in fibres.
‘They just stuck to me,’ he said, innocently.
Now Kim understood the walk around the house.
She smiled as she remembered the piece of paper from the sofa.
‘Happens to you a lot, doesn’t it?’
Dead Souls: A gripping serial killer thriller with a shocking twist (Detective Kim Stone Crime Thriller Series Book 6) Page 25