Page 21 of Twisted Lies

Stacey keyed in a response of hearts and kisses before putting her phone aside.

It really was great news. She was flattered and proud, and it was definitely the way she wanted her career to go.

What she wasn’t sure of was why she seemed to be seeking everyone’s opinion on the matter to define how she felt about it herself.

Fifteen

Housing estate was a bit of an overstatement for the houses that were going up on the edge of Blackheath town.

As Bryant parked the car, Kim counted a row of six properties shoehorned into the space of a decent-sized garden. Behind the scaffolding, new brick formed the narrow homes with gaping holes that would eventually house doors and windows.

A short, squat male approached the metal gate before they could enter.

‘You all right there, gor… sorry, not these days,’ he said, removing his hard hat. A circle had indented around the top of his forehead.

He stepped outside the gate. ‘Sorry, even if yowm from planning I cor let yer past without a—’

‘We’re not from planning,’ Kim said, taking out her warrant card.

A loud wolf whistle sounded from the upper level of the scaffolding.

‘Smurf, button it,’ he called over his shoulder.

‘Sorry about that,’ he said.

‘It’s okay,’ said Bryant. ‘I get it all the time.’

‘Bill Murray not the actor,’ the man said, holding out his hand.

Bryant shook it.

‘And what can I do you for?’

‘We’re here to talk to you about Keith Phipps,’ Kim said, putting her ID away.

‘He’s fired and yow can tell him that from me.’

‘I’m sure that’s the least of his problems,’ Kim said. ‘I’m sorry to tell you the man is dead.’

Bill looked at her for a long minute before speaking.

He scratched his head. ‘How?’

‘I’m not going into detail, but I’d like to know more about the man he was.’

‘You’ve come to the wrong place, love, I mean, marm… I mean… shit, what the fuck is the right thing to say anymore?’

‘Officer or Inspector will do,’ she offered, hiding a smile.

Political correctness and all the ISMs, as she liked to call them, had been filtering through different industries at different speeds, and she was guessing that construction was one of the last trades to get the memo.

Bill glanced behind him and took a few steps away from the gate.

A quick glance told her that his workers were beginning to congregate and listen to what was going on.

‘I’m sorry the man is dead,’ he said when he felt they were far enough away. ‘But there ay much I can tell yer about him.’

She nodded back towards the site. ‘Can you get us someone who—?’