Page 109 of Dying Truth
‘What?’
‘No cereal bowl,’ he said, nodding towards the kitchen. ‘Every morning he leaves his used bowl in the sink with cold water in, as though it’s going to clean itself. A standing joke between us, but there wasn’t one there this morning.’
‘But the car is outside,’ Kim queried.
‘Which is why I thought he’d come home.’
‘You haven’t tried to call him?’
‘Not until those people started to mess around his car.’
‘Why not?’ Kim asked, suspiciously. ‘How did you get home?’
‘I always take a taxi home from the club at around 1a.m.’
‘And you didn’t wonder why the car was here and he was not?’ Kim queried.
He reached for the pack of cigarettes. ‘We’d had a row,’ he admitted. ‘I told him to drop dead and got out of the car.’
‘About what?’ Bryant asked.
‘Cheating, officer. I’m pretty sure Monty was cheating on me. Constantly on his phone, texting and stuff.’
‘And did he answer when you called?’ Kim asked.
Rupert shook his head. ‘No, it went straight to voicemail. I thought it was just him playing the drama queen but there’s something wrong, isn’t there?’
‘Is there any chance he could have gone somewhere for a drink to calm down, maybe had one too many?’
Rupert shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. He was wearing trackie bottoms with a rip at the knee. Monty would never have been seen out in such a state.’ He shook his head. ‘I really don’t understand what this is all about.’
Kim could feel the panic rising within him.
‘Mr Downing, we have reason to believe that Monty was involved in a road traffic incident last night. A very serious incident, I’m afraid.’
‘No, that can’t be right,’ he said. ‘Monty is a very careful driver. Sometimes feels likeDriving Miss Daisy, to be honest. I can’t believe…’
His words trailed away as he glanced towards the window. The car was being winched onto the back of the truck, and the front end damage was obvious.
‘Mr Downing, we believe he hit someone,’ she explained.
His hand shook as he brought the cigarette to his mouth.
‘How serious?’ he asked.
‘The woman died,’ Kim said, pushing away the image of Joanna lying on the ground.
Rupert stood and began to pace.
‘No, no, no,’ he repeated, shaking his head. ‘It’s not possible. He always drives so carefully. It can’t be true. He’s never even had a minor accident.’
Her gaze met Bryant’s and she nodded.
Bryant coughed. ‘Mr Downing, we don’t believe it was an accident.’
‘What are you saying?’ he asked, as his hand went to his throat in horror.
‘We think Monty hit the victim deliberately.’
