Page 8 of Child's Play

‘Cheers,’ she said, catching up with Bryant who was already in the hallway.

‘Observant guy,’ she noted, glancing back to the officer.

‘Give the man a plant,’ Brant said, turning left.

His failure to earn the plant had become a standing joke in the squad room. One which Bryant played for all it was worth.

‘Basic layout by the looks of it,’ he noted. ‘Living area on the left and bedrooms on the right. Decent size.’

The hallway was decorated with an embossed wallpaper that had been painted with bland magnolia matt emulsion. The rooms offered a similar colour palette which gave the impression of fresh, clean but coolly detached somehow.

‘How much?’ Kim asked, looking around the lounge. Bungalows were pretty expensive around the area.

‘I’d guess around three hundred grand,’ Bryant said, frowning.

‘I’d have expected a bigger property,’ Kim said, honestly, purely based on the car model and registration of the car that the victim drove.

‘My thoughts exactly,’ he said touching the top of a sideboard. ‘It’s a nice place but…’ His words trailed away as he pulled open the top drawer of the cupboard.

‘Empty,’ he said, looking her way.

Kim shrugged, and continued walking around the room. The television was flat screen but not much bigger than a computer monitor. An old-fashioned stacker system music centre sat on a two-drawer unit in the opposite corner. She could see no speakers attached and it appeared to be just for show.

She opened the drawers. ‘These are empty too.’

They moved along to the kitchen. The heart of the home. In this property it appeared to have suffered a cardiac arrest. The space was a functional area of boxes, hard edges and sharp corners. Nothing softened the space or brought it to life. No chopping board, place mats, canisters for tea bags, bread bin, teapot. All the things that people have and don’t really use.

Again, Bryant began opening doors and drawers.

‘A few bits and pieces but little more than we found in the lounge. Not sure we’re gonna find any evidence to help solve her death when we can barely find anything to prove her life.’

Kim turned to her colleague.

‘Bloody hell, Bryant, you been reading books again?’

‘Actually, Carl Jung says—’

Bryant’s words were cut off by a cough that came from behind.

Kim turned and her breath met a brick wall in her chest.

‘Jesus,’ Bryant whispered, as they both stared at the person before them.

She had the feeling they were looking at a ghost.

Five

‘Marm, I’m sorry… she just…’

Kim waved away the constable’s apologies. Judging by the look on the woman’s face the entire day shift kitted out in riot gear would have struggled to stop her.

She took a moment to process the sight before her. From the floral skirt to the plain blouse to the pearl earrings and matching necklace. The face was a little more worn but the resemblance to Belinda Evans was uncanny.

‘May I ask what you’re doing in my sister’s house?’ she asked in a clipped, stern voice that held no Black Country twang.

Kim stepped forward. ‘Mrs?…’

‘It’s Miss Evans, like my sister and my name is Veronica,’ she stated, as Kim’s phone began to ring.