Page 83 of Twisted Lies

Yes, absolutely it was.

Seventy-Two

The house of Rhonda Mullins was a two-bed terrace in Hayley Green, just a couple of miles from Halesowen Town Centre, and Bryant pulled up in front of it no more than ten minutes after she’d received the call from Penn.

A conversation during which she had instructed Penn to head over to the address of Jacob Powell: the only information Bryant had been able to extricate from Anna Lennox. During their conversation, the woman had admitted that she’d received the emails from Stacey but that she’d been too busy to respond. Bryant suspected that she’d got wind of it being connected to the body found on Monday and was awaiting guidance on what she could and couldn’t share.

During her own conversation, Liam Docherty had gone on to explain that the man was experiencing some family difficulties and that was why he’d had to leave so quickly the day before. Kim wasn’t buying it. In her experience, the only people fleeing from the police were folks with something to hide, and she had to make sure that that something wasn’t connected to the Phipps family.

Bryant parked behind the squad car of the officers dispatched to break the bad news. A photo shown to him by Mrs Mullins of the two of them on holiday in Blackpool just a couple of months ago had left Penn in no doubt that Dean Mullins was their man.

A male police officer answered the door to reveal a female police officer sitting next to a slight woman with red-rimmed eyes on the sofa. Although small, the property had been furnished in all shades of cream, giving a light, airy feel to the space that ran right through to a kitchen extension on the back.

Rhonda Mullins looked like a woman whose body had collapsed on itself. Her pale cheeks were hollow beneath a jet-black hair dye that added nothing to her complexion. Kim ensured that her grave expression didn’t give the woman even a moment to hope there had been a mistake. Receiving the news twice was even harder.

‘Mrs Mullins, I’m DI Stone and this is DS Bryant. We’re here to talk about the death of your husband.’

Bryant opened his mouth.

‘But may I first say how sorry we are for your loss,’ she added.

‘Th… Thank you,’ the woman offered, as though unsure exactly what to do or say.

Kim nodded to the constable that she could remove herself from the sofa. She did so and Kim took her place.

‘I understand that this must be a shock for you, but we need to ask you some questions about Dean.’

Rhonda nodded towards the police officer who was now at the door with her colleague. ‘She said he’d been murdered. Is that true?’

‘I’m afraid so, Mrs Mullins, and we need to know—’ Kim stopped speaking as the memory of her first interview with Diane Phipps played through her mind. The evasion; the secrecy; the misdirection; the lies.

She leaned back and called to the officers on the door.

‘Guys, can you give us a minute?’

They stepped outside and closed the front door behind them, leaving just the three of them in the room.

‘Mrs Mullins, before we ask you any other questions, I need to ask one important one.’ It was a gamble, as she couldn’t risk letting the cat out of the bag unnecessarily – but she also couldn’t work around another pack of lies.

‘Go ahead,’ she sniffed.

‘Are you and your husband part of the witness protection scheme?’

Surprise registered on her face as she began to shake her head.

Fuck, she’d called it wrong and divulged the sensitivity of their enquiry.

‘Mrs Mullins, I must ask that—’

‘Sorry, Officer. I should be clearer. No, we’re not in the scheme. At least not anymore.’

Seventy-Three

‘Not anymore?’ Kim asked, sitting up straighter.

‘We left. Dean couldn’t hack it.’

‘Why were you placed in the scheme?’ Kim asked.