Page 27 of Deadly Cry

Kim allowed her surprise to show. ‘Excuse me?’

Ella shrugged, unconcerned.

‘My priority is and always will be my brother and my niece, with whom I must now visit,’ she said, moving towards the door.

‘Well, thank you for your time,’ Kim said sarcastically, although Ella didn’t seem to notice as she picked up the bags and locked the door behind them.

‘What’re your thoughts?’ Bryant asked as they watched the woman drive away.

Kim didn’t have an answer, but she knew that Ella had not asked about the murderer or murder once.

Twenty-Four

Stacey knocked hard on the door of the narrow townhouse on a small development in Wordsley. She was unsure whether the sound would be heard above the deep bass music coming from the other side.

She was about to knock again when the door was opened by a woman in her mid-twenties with a mane of deep red hair, wearing a crop top and jeans.

In her left hand was a tumbler of gold liquid and a cigarette. As the smile died on her face, it became clear she had been expecting someone else.

‘Gemma Hornley?’

‘I am she, her, I mean, yes that’s me,’ she said, and then laughed out loud. ‘No, honestly, I’m Gemma.’

Stacey held up her ID. ‘Can I have a word?’

Gemma leaned across her, poking her head out the door.

‘Bertram Jennings you’re a fucking wanker,’ she shouted to the rest of the street. ‘Always fucking complaining. I swear they’re deader than… well dead folks. Can’t stand a bit of fun, but we’ll turn it down as soon—’

‘I don’t know who Bertram Jennings is,’ Stacey clarified. ‘And this isn’t about your music.’

‘Oh, okay,’ she said, sobering slightly.

‘I’m here to talk about Sean Fellows.’

‘He getting out?’ she asked, frowning.

‘Not yet, but if I could just…’

‘Come in, come in,’ she said, opening the door wider. She held up her tumbler. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’

‘Err, no, thanks,’ Stacey said. It was barely two o’clock.

‘Okay, give me a sec,’ she said, ducking into the lounge.

‘Keep it down, you noisy fuckers,’ she shouted.

In response to her request, the music increased a few decibels.

‘Dicks,’ she said, closing the door on the noise.

She nodded towards the kitchen. Stacey stepped in. The work surface was littered with cans of cheap cider and a couple of bottles of spirits.

Gemma closed the door, but even with the double barrier the music was thudding through loud and clear.

‘Celebrating something?’ Stacey asked.

‘Nah, got a big night out later, so just getting warmed up. A few of us are off into town and the booze is bloody expensive.’