Page 22 of Child's Play
Ricky Drake had been instrumental in giving them enough detail about the man to track down Gregor Nuryef and question him. Initially his wife had provided an alibi and a search warrant had been out of the question.
However, guilt had driven Irina Nuryef to retract her statement and admit she’d lied about her husband being at home on the night of the murder.
This admission had enabled them to obtain the search warrant for the Nuryef home.
Doug had found nothing in the house, but Penn had struck gold in the garden shed where he’d found a bloodstained tee shirt rolled up in a carrier bag. Testing had matched the blood to that of Devlin Kapoor.
And despite the fact that Ricky Drake had handed them the crowbar to crack this case wide open there was still something in the man that almost brought bile to the back of his throat.
He tuned back in as the prosecutor drew the witness to the business end of his statement.
‘So, you glanced towards the lit shop once as you walked along the road?’
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Ricky answered, seeming to be enjoying himself. Looking towards the jury as though they were his very own audience, all present to witness his solo performance. He was caught up in the moment, distracted as he played to his fans.
‘But then you paused to light a cigarette…’
‘Nah, chippy’s only up the road and yer cor tek yer fag in…’
Penn’s breath caught in his chest as every head on the side of the defence table shot up, and he could understand why.
Ricky had maintained from day one that he’d got a good enough look at the killer because he’d stopped to light a smoke.
The prosecutor was desperately trying to get Ricky to backtrack and remember the events accurately. The way they’d been recorded on the statement in front of him.
The defence team were furiously scribbling notes.
And Penn was trying to swallow down the bile that was now well and truly in his throat.
Sixteen
Veronica’s house was not what Kim had been expecting and yet somehow it suited her completely.
The property was a four-storey town house including the garage that was at ground level and could not have been more different to the single-storey dwellings of her sister. And yet the height, the imposing structure of the dwelling, mirrored the woman perfectly.
‘Bloody hate these places,’ Bryant moaned as they approached the front door. ‘Had an aunt that lived in something similar, too many stairs and weird layouts normally.’
Kim ignored him and knocked the door.
‘I mean who wants a bedroom beneath the kitchen or a—’
‘Good evening, officers,’ Veronica said, opening the door. There was no surprise in her tone at seeing them there.
She’d changed into smart jeans and a V-neck tee shirt with a rose embroidered over a chest pocket. Her hair had been let down and her feet were encased in flat deck shoes.
Unlike either of Belinda’s homes, a warm aroma, musky but not cloying, reached out and welcomed them in.
‘Please, go up,’ she said, pointing to the staircase that ran alongside the double garage. ‘My office is on the first floor.’
Only Kim heard Bryant’s tut as they took to the stairs.
The first landing opened up into what Kim guessed was more than a study.
The space immediately beckoned you in with its warm mix of period furniture. A vintage mahogany desk that caught the light from the south-facing window. A comfortable chair before the fireplace, mismatched cushions that looked worn but homely. An entire wall given to leather-bound books. Another wall with old framed movie prints. Glass jars spaced around the room containing liquid and wooden sticks. Her own attempts at keeping the air fresh in her own home was a few squirts of Neutradol and an apple-scented plug-in.
But this was a room that wasn’t trying to be anything except a comfortable space in which to spend time.
‘My favourite room in the house,’ the woman said, stepping in behind them. ‘I spend most of my time here,’ she said, crossing the room to open a door that led into a bright modern kitchen that was completely at odds with the space in which they stood.
