Page 11 of No Safe Place
Chapter 6
Wednesday | Morning
Field
The address on David Moore’s driving licence was a narrow townhouse on the edge of Greenwich Park. Every house on the street was well maintained, freshly painted – and Moore’s was no exception.
David couldn’t have been walking back to this home last night – they were more than a twenty-five-minute drive from the scene.
Wilson performed a neat parallel park and Field let her lead the way up the path to the house. Field’s face felt flushed and sweaty, from the heat or hormones – she couldn’t tell. She glanced across at Wilson, whose dark skin was wrinkle- and sweat-free.
They turned the volume on their radios down before knocking.
A woman opened the door, holding a wooden spoon and wearing an apron covered in flour.
‘Penelope Moore?’ Wilson asked, and the woman nodded, the spoon dropping to her side. They both held up their warrant cards. ‘My name is DS Wilson, and this is DCI Field. Could we come in?’
Penelope took a moment to look closely at their cards, cleared her throat. ‘Can I ask what this is regarding?’
She was a tiny slip of a woman, younger than Field had been expecting, with vivid red hair, in a short bob. The calm demeanour, the baking – this wasn’t a wife who’d been up all night, wondering where her husband was.
‘I think it’s best we come in, Penelope, and take a seat,’ Field said.
She looked between them, gave a curt nod, and stepped backwards into the house. ‘It’s Penny, by the way.’
In the hallway Penny untied her apron, and placed it on a side table with the messy spoon on top. She led them into a high-ceilinged living room, and they took their seats.
Wilson spoke softly. ‘Penny, your husband is David Moore – is that correct?’
A split-second hesitation, then: ‘Yes.’
Instinct made Field glance at Penny’s left hand, clutching her bare knee below the hem of her summer dress. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.
‘David was involved in an incident in the early hours of this morning. A stabbing.’ Wilson lifted a hand as Penny’s face crumpled. ‘It’s okay, he’s at the hospital now. We’ve been told he’s stable. But we are treating this as an attempted murder.’
Penny stayed very still, apart from the rise and fall of her chest. Her pale collarbone looked vulnerable.
Wilson did well – delivering the facts in a kind, but firm voice, as the incongruous, sweet smell of baking cake drifted into the room.
Penny was stoic, still. Taking in the information being offered without reacting.
‘Is there anything you want to ask us?’ Field asked, indicating to Penny that Wilson was now finished.
Her eyes were wide. ‘Which hospital?’
‘King’s,’ Field said. ‘In Denmark Hill. We’ll take you straight to the hospital, but first—’
Penny’s head snapped to look at her.
‘—it’d be really helpful if we could ask you a few questions. It’ll only take a few minutes.’
Penny nodded, then sagged back into the overstuffed sofa. Her legs curled up and she wrapped her arms around her knees, like she was trying to take up less space.
‘DS Wilson, make us all a cup of tea, would you?’
Wilson took the dismissal without hesitating and stood up.
‘The kitchen’s at the back,’ Penny said, her voice a whisper. Her eyes, unfocused, moved to the window.
