Page 84 of Silent Scream
‘SOCO still have the road closed. You never know, there might be something.’
Kim ended the call. 'Connop,' she whispered.
‘Dead?’ Bryant asked.
Kim nodded and then sighed. If she was perfectly honest, she was hard pushed to measure the loss of Arthur Connop. His wife had been emphatically disinterested in his whereabouts. No one they’d spoken to had harboured any affection for the man at all, past or present. Perhaps Maureen might feel his loss from the decrease of beer and cobs sold per week but few would seriously mourn his passing.
Kim would have liked to think that the rude, insufferable man had once been a decent human being who had slowly grown bitter with age but his blatant neglect of his charges ten years ago destroyed the false hope. She suspected that Maureen was right that Arthur had always been selfish and mean ? but she now had to wonder if he was more than that. How far would he have gone to cover his tracks?
As Bryant wiped at his mouth with a paper serviette Kim glanced at the dashboard clock. It was just after three and a lot of paperwork lay ahead at the station. It had already been a long and taxing day and she could always start working through the list of occupants tomorrow. Her body demanded a shower and some rest.
‘You want me to head towards that address in Birmingham, then, Guv?’
She smiled and nodded her head.
Forty-One
Covering seventeen acres, Brindleyplace was the largest mixed-use redevelopment in the UK. Canal-side factories and a Victorian school had been renovated in a range of architectural styles.
The project was started in 1993 and now offered three distinct areas.
Brindleyplace was an assortment of low-rise buildings offering plush office space, retail units and art galleries while Water’s Edge housed the bars, restaurants and cafes. The residential element sprawled out from Symphony Court.
‘Guv, what the hell are we doing wrong?’ Bryant asked as they stood on the fourth floor of the King Edwards Wharf building.
The door was answered by a slim, athletic woman wearing black leggings and a tight sports top. Her face bore the flush of recent exertion or exercise.
‘Nicola Adamson?’
‘And you are?’
Bryant offered his warrant card and introduced them both.
She stood aside and welcomed them into an open plan penthouse.
Kim stepped onto beech wooden flooring that stretched all the way to the kitchen area.
White leather sofas were set diagonally before a wall bearing a large, flatscreen television. Beneath it were various electronic devices recessed into the wall. No wires or cables were evident.
Spot lights were flush with the ceiling and a couple of down lighters were fixed above a pebble fireplace.
A glass dining table surrounded by teak chairs signalled the end of the lounge. Just beyond that the laminate ended and stone tiles began.
Kim would guess she was looking at around 1500 square feet of living space.
‘Can I offer you a drink, tea, coffee?’
Kim nodded. ‘Coffee, as strong as you’ve got.’
Nicola Adamson smiled openly. ‘That kind of day, Detective?’
The woman padded into a kitchen formed of white glossy cabinets with accents of brown wood.
Kim didn’t answer but continued to move around the space. The left side wall was formed entirely of glass, punctuated only by a few circular stone pillars. Beyond was a balcony and without stepping out Kim could see the view of the Brindley Loop Canal.
Further along the wall of glass Kim saw a treadmill partly obscured by an oriental screen. Well, she reasoned, if you were going to exercise this was surely the way to do it.
It was an impressive space for a woman in her mid-twenties who was home in the middle of the afternoon.
