Page 61 of Child's Play
‘So,’ Kim said, moving towards the board. ‘We have Belinda Evans on a swing and Barry Nixon on the hopscotch grid, both with the letter X cut into the back of their neck. We know that Belinda was a professor of child psychology and Barry Nixon was a counsellor, primarily for troubled kids. We also know that Barry was attending a two-day event called Brainboxes or something in Stourport-On-Severn tomorrow. I think it’s safe to say that’s where Belinda was going too.
‘Barry Nixon’s wife, who incidentally used to be one of his cases—’
‘Ugghh,’ Stacey said, offering Kim validation of her own feelings earlier.
‘Exactly. Anyway, she insists that Barry hasn’t missed one of these events in years and is paid by the organisers to attend.’
‘For what?’
‘Not sure but I’d like to talk to the organisers to see exactly what this event is all about. In the meantime I’d like to know more about the man himself and I’m not going to get that from either his wife or his sister who both seem to think he was some kind of god.’
Bryant cut in. ‘But he didn’t exactly have a boss as he worked for himself and I’m not sure he was awash with friends.’
‘Hmm. You’re right there, Bryant?’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘But I think I might know someone who can help.’
Forty-One
Penn took a deep breath before pushing open the door and holding it open for a woman juggling her car keys and a take-out coffee.
Apart from two lads by the drinks section glancing up at the new CCTV camera, the service station was empty.
They glanced at each other and shuffled out of the shop. Teenagers – school kids – and yet either one of them could have had a knife.
Penn took the bottle to the counter.
‘Mr Penn, sir. What are you doing here?’
Penn opened his mouth and closed it again as a customer ran in to pay with the money already in his hand.
Penn remembered those days. Filling up the car to the exact amount of money you had in your pocket. Careful not to go over but to get it as close as you could. A personal challenge to get it to the exact penny.
Did Mr Kapoor view every customer with caution since the death of his son? At what point did he breathe a sigh of relief that the customer was not going to produce a weapon, a knife, or worse. That they just wanted to pay for petrol and get on with their night.
He waited until the youth had left.
‘Was that you over the road, pacing?’ he asked, frowning.
Penn considered lying but nodded instead.
‘Mr Kapoor, a lot happened in court today. Not good things from our point of view. I promised I’d keep you informed and I have to tell you that we’re currently taking another look at the case.’
He frowned. ‘I don’t understand. Gregor Nuryef murdered my son. You told me so. You said you had your man.’
Yes, he had. Right after they’d received the results of the DNA test, he’d visited the man and his family straight after his shift and given them the news.
‘The tee shirt, with Dev’s blood. It was…’
‘It was, Mr Kapoor. It was right there in Nuryef’s shed, but there are inconsistencies that we can’t ignore.’
‘That man who was killed. He was going to testify that Nuryef was at home that night?’
Penn nodded. ‘It’s an easy mistake to make. His testimony was based on hearing his neighbour call the dog in at ten thirty every night. He was no threat to the case.’
‘He was a threat to someone,’ Mr Kapoor said, simply.
Penn agreed but was hoping that the team working the McCann murder case were going to turn up some indisputable reason for the defence witness’s death being unrelated to the Kapoor case. Perhaps the man had defaulted on gambling debts to the wrong person or maybe he was a drug dealer murdered by a disgruntled client. His logical mind told him that the forty-six-year-old accountant was unlikely to be either, but he had to hang on to the hope.
‘We’re investigating every angle to ensure that—’
