Page 78 of Silent Scream
‘And a very lovely house it is too, Councillor.’
‘Richard, please,’ he offered, magnanimously. ‘The house is the love child of my wife. She works hard and expects to relax in a comfortable home.’
‘And she does what exactly?’
‘She is a human rights barrister. She defends the rights of people you may not particularly wish to spend time with.’
Kim got it immediately. ‘Terrorists.’
‘Individuals accused of terrorist activitywould be a more politically correct term.’
Kim tried not to let her emotions show but the distaste must have been obvious.
‘Everyone is entitled to make full use of the law, wouldn’t you agree, Detective?’
Kim said nothing. She didn’t trust her mouth to open. She firmly believed that the law was applicable to everyone and so she had to concede that the defence of that same law should be made available to everyone. So, she agreed with him. She just hated the fact that she agreed with him.
More intriguing than his wife’s profession was the total lack of facial movement when the man spoke. Croft’s forehead and upper cheek area had not moved once. For Kim, there was something surreal about the process of injecting a derivative of the most acute known toxin into your own body voluntarily. For a man approaching his fifties, it was positively obscene. She felt she was looking at the waxwork dummy and not the man.
He waved at his surroundings. ‘Nina likes to live well and I’m just lucky that I have a wife that loves me very much.’
The comment probably left his mouth as self-deprecating and with intent to charm. It met Kim’s ears as smug and self-satisfied.
Probably not as much as you love yourself, Kim was tempted to respond – but was luckily prevented by the arrival of a tray being carried by a young slim blonde who also had damp hair.
Kim exchanged a knowing glance with Bryant. Jesus, he and his wife didn’t have a moral fibre between them.
She feared for the two perfectly groomed young boys in the photo on the brick fire surround.
Once Marta had left the room Richard poured the contents of the silver pot into three small cups.
Kim could see no milk and could smell no caffeine. She held up her hand and declined.
‘I’ve been meaning to come and see you to offer any assistance but I’ve just been so busy with my constituents.’
Yes, Kim was sure they insisted he indulge in a midday romp with the hired help. Even the tone of his voice sounded disingenuous. She wondered if she might have found him more believable at the office. But here, amongst the luxury of his surroundings, knowing what he’d been up to, she couldn’t help the wave of revulsion that stole over her.
‘Well we’re here now, so if we could just ask a few questions we’ll be on our way.’
‘Of course, please, go ahead.’
He took a seat on the sofa opposite and sat back with his right foot lifted onto his left knee.
Kim decided to start at the beginning. Every cell of her being detested this man but she would try to ensure that her personal opinion did not colour her professional judgement.
‘You are aware that Teresa Wyatt was murdered recently?’
‘Terrible business,’ he said, without changing expression. ‘I sent flowers.’
‘A lovely thought, I’m sure.’
‘The least I could do.’
‘And you know about Tom Curtis?’
Croft shook his head and lowered it. ‘Horrific.’
Kim would bet her house he sent flowers.
