Page 17 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

“You on your way?”Taylor pressed.

“I’ve got a ton of reading to catch up on tonight,” Aaron lied. “I’m beat. But I’ll see you this weekend, yeah?”

“The party’s Friday. Changed it from Saturday ‘cause Max got a night shift at the warehouse. They’re still starting early, though. Soon as he gets back, probably. Midday ish. ButI’ll be home around seven. You can come over whenever. Unless you’re working?”

“Nah. Only doing Wednesdays and Sundays.”

“Guess I’ll see you at my place Friday when I get home then?”

“Sure.”

He had nothing else to do, might as well get drunk with Taylor’s housemates.

Chapter five

It’s My Party

In some weird, twisted way, Kenny was glad of the distraction from assessing his own crumbling life by immersing himself in that of another’s.

The other’s being Connie Bishop. Third year music student, originally from a small village in North Wales, and netball enthusiast. Friends and family described her as wholesome. She had plans to do a masters in music therapy and work with children with learning disabilities. An all-round good girl. She was quiet at school. Had a small circle of friends. One long-term boyfriend in school, whom she left to go to university in Ryston. They broke up a short time later. After which, Connie threw herself into netball and making new friends. She’d had a few relationships, but nothing stuck. She lived in a house share with three other girls, all who played netball and all who, from the notes Jack and his team had collected, knew little more about her than what the police had gathered already.

What struck Kenny most was the startling absence of meaningful insight from the friends who’d been out with her that night. Their recollections of Connie were shallow at best, as if they’d never truly known her beyond the surface. It left himgrappling with a frustrating gap in understanding. How could someone spend so much time surrounded by others yet remain such an enigma?

This lack of depth in her social connections posed a challenge. To understand her actions and reactions on the night she died, Kenny needed to know her patterns. How she navigated social dynamics. How she responded to stress or confrontation. What she did when she felt unsafe. But without genuine insight from those closest to her, all he had to draw on was fragments. Impressions rather than truths.

This disconnect hinted at something deeper. Connie might have been adept at blending in, maintaining a persona that fit the expectations of those around her while keeping her true self guarded. People like that often masked vulnerabilities, adapting to social situations while hiding their inner worlds. And that made her behaviour on the night of her death even harder to predict.

The stark reality was this: Connie Bishop, surrounded by people who claimed to care for her, had been profoundly alone in the moments that mattered most.

So he was here on Friday, making his way down the starkly lit hallway of the Ryston hospital, hoping to gain more insight from someone who hadn’t known her but had dug deeper than any of her friends.

The pathology unit always held an atmosphere both clinical and eerie. A reminder of what brought people here and what brought detectives like Jack and specialists like himself here.Death. He opened the double doors, where the sterile smell of antiseptic and cool air hit him with nostalgia.

It had been a while since he’d done this.

Dr Chong, the chief pathologist, was waiting for him by one of the examination tables, gloved hands resting on a slim tablet. She looked up as he entered, smiled. They knew each other from the handful of cases Kenny had worked on before, and heappreciated her meticulousness, her unwavering attention to detail. If anyone could offer insight on the subtleties of this case, it would be her.

“Dr Lyons.” She set down the tablet and peeled off her gloves. “DI Bentley mentioned you’d be coming by. It’s like you can’t keep away from us.”

“Maybe I just like the smell of antiseptic.”

“Some say it’s an aphrodisiac.”

“You flirting with me?” He sidled up next to her.

“Well, you know how I like my men.”

“Cold and unresponsive?”

“Best way for a lot of them.”

He chuckled, shifting his attention to the examination table where Dr Chong had already laid out the file on Connie Bishop.

“Jack thinks there’s a connection between this case and a couple from a few months back. Said you’d found…something unusual?” Kenny sifted through the pictures.

Chong’s expression turned grim as she handed him the tablet, the screen displaying a full toxicology report with several highlighted sections. “Unusual is an understatement.” She crossed her arms. “All victims appear to have died from what we’re identifying as a neurotoxin. Quick-acting, highly specific. It shuts down the respiratory and cardiovascular systems without leaving obvious signs of trauma.”

Kenny scrolled through the report. “But no standard toxins showed up?”

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