Page 17 of Child's Play

For once Stacey was pleased to have the office to herself, although the noise she’d hoped would go away was still blaring loudly in her head.

In one way she was pleased to have the distraction of another major case, God forgive her for the thought. The last few weeks of plodding through the mundane had given her too much time to think. Too much space for the doubts, for the negative thoughts running around her mind. She’d been asked a question and right now she didn’t have the answer. Was she prepared for her whole life to change, to leave the safety of the familiar, move out of her comfort zone. Quite honestly, she didn’t know.

She pushed the thoughts away and tried to focus on the mobile phone records of Belinda Evans, while ignoring that her own phone had just dinged an incoming message. The phone hadn’t yet made it out of her satchel. She didn’t want it staring at her accusingly from the desk, taunting her into a response. She could ignore it so much easier if it was out of sight. And right now, that was exactly what she needed to do.

Having Belinda’s phone number and the provider had made her job considerably easier. Susie at Vodafone had already confirmed that all activity had ceased on the number at 11p.m. the night before.

Stacey was guessing the phone had been destroyed which told her the device was important, that there was some kind of link to the killer on that phone. Otherwise it would have remained on her person.

Helpful Susie at Vodafone was still working on the tracking information and was pulling data from the masts, but in the meantime Stacey had the phone activity to focus on.

She laid out the four pages emailed by Susie which covered the previous twenty-eight days.

As she began to scour the data she heard her own phone ding again.

She shook her head at her satchel as though it could understand her.

And then she got back to work.

Twelve

‘Guv, do you want to explain what you hope to find here?’ Bryant asked, as they entered the second property belonging to Belinda Evans. ‘We already know she spent all her time next door, so surely any clue will be there.’

Kim turned to him. ‘Even in death did Belinda Evans appear unkempt, unclean?’

Bryant shook his head.

‘Could you even have guessed at the squalor she lived in next door?’

‘No.’

‘Did the inside of her car in any way reflect it?’

‘A simple answer to my question instead of twenty of your own would have been nice,’ he grumbled.

‘There was conflict, Bryant. A part of her needed that chaos next door. I’m not sure why yet but she also craved order and simplicity, organisation.’

‘I still don’t?…’

‘I’m getting there,’ she said, moving along the bare hallway and into the lounge. She looked in drawers and under cushions as she went.

‘Where did you keep stuff when you were a kid?’ she asked.

‘Everywhere. Clothes on the bed, in corners, trainers strewn around the room, school books in a pile on the bedside cabinet, just everywhere, really.’

‘What about important stuff? Things you wanted quick access to or to know where they were at all times, love letters, your favourite miniature Corgi car, pictures of half-naked…’

‘Top drawer of the bedside cabinet,’ he said, as her logic finally dawned on him. ‘You’re thinking Belinda used this house like a drawer. It’s where she kept important stuff, away from the chaos of next door?’

She nodded as she opened the bottom drawer of the sideboard.

‘Aha,’ she said, lifting out a pile of paperwork.

‘And what exactly are we looking for?’ Bryant asked.

‘I have no idea,’ she said, handing him the pile. ‘But I’ll leave you to look through that lot while I take a look around.’

She did a cursory inspection of the kitchen but moved quickly on. There was little evidence of the woman enjoying any kind of cooking, which was something she could relate to.