‘And lastly, can you tell me where you were on Monday night? We have to ask.’
‘Of course. I was at The Cock Robin pub in Romsley in a pub quiz with my old football team. Left at 10.45 and I’m happy to give you all of their names.’
Bryant took out his notebook as Charles scrolled through his phone offering names and numbers.
Kim stood and offered her hand.
‘Thank you,’ she said, as he shook it. His palm was cool and dry. ‘We’ll be in touch if…’
Her words trailed away as her phone rang.
She stepped away and listened to the findings of her detective constable.
She ended the call and walked back.
‘My apologies, Mr Blunt, but it looks as though we’re not quite done with you yet.’
Twenty-Nine
‘Why here?’ Penn asked, as they turned the corner into Curzon Street. Before they’d even reached the car the instruction had changed via a text message to Doug’s phone.
‘Not a clue. The boss just… Jesus Christ, what’s this all about?’
A cordon had been placed across the road between two lamp-posts. Beyond it were three squad cars, an ambulance and Detective Inspector Travis on the phone. The street was residential formed of mid-priced semi-detached and detached properties three miles north of Kidderminster.
Without words Lynne parked the car and they all jumped out.
Doug pushed forcefully through the crowds as Lynne followed with shouts of ‘excuse me’, while Penn nodded apologies to people being barged out of the way.
He understood it was a West Mercia crime scene. What he didn’t understand was the reason he’d been summoned to attend. And what the hell could trump a trial for murder?
‘Guv?’ they all said together and it really did feel like old times.
Travis ended the call and looked none too happy.
‘Trial has been suspended for now,’ he said, holding up the phone, confirming that’s what he’d just been told.
‘Guv?’ Lynne repeated.
He looked across the confusion shared by all three of them.
‘Follow me,’ he said, heading along a pathway that separated two detached houses.
At the end of the path was a steep bank with a path trodden between the overgrown weeds.
They scrambled up the bank in single file and stood together when they reached the top.
Penn spotted an arm first, severed just beneath the elbow, approximately twenty feet along the railway track. The stump of the limb was flesh-coloured mulch, deep red with dried blood. Loose flesh looked as though it was trying to crawl away. Sinews hung from the pulped muscle.
Beyond the limb was a crumpled, bloody mess surrounded by white suits. Another clutch of white suits was bunched further up the line, telling him this poor soul had been deposited in bits over a seventy to eighty feet stretch.
‘Bloody hell,’ Doug said.
‘Indeed, Doug. Seven different bits of him strewn across the track.’
As horrific as the scene was Penn still didn’t understand why he was there. If the trial of Gregor Nuryef had been suspended, it was time for him to get back to his own team.
‘Look closer,’ Travis said.