Page 55 of Twisted Lies
She clicked into the final record of Diane Phipps and noted it was another short summary.
Her gaze passed over the generic information at the top of the page.
‘Now that really is strange,’ she said loud enough for Penn to hear.
‘Make it worth my while this time, Stace,’ Penn said, uncovering one ear.
‘Oh, I think this one is worth it,’ she said, checking again the section at the top on family relationships.
‘Diane Phipps ay even got a sister.’
Forty-Five
‘Bloody hell, Stace,’ Kim said as Bryant entered the coastal town of Clevedon.
It took her a second to digest the news about Diane and Leanne, even though a part of her was not surprised. There had been something missing in their interaction; a bond born of familiarity, history and knowledge. She’d seen no affection demonstrated between the two women, not even when Kim had informed Diane of her husband’s death. Yes, Leanne had sat beside her on the sofa, but Kim recalled the squeezing of Diane’s arm. It wasn’t for comfort but control. But what was she trying to control? And if she wasn’t Diane’s sister, who the bloody hellwasLeanne King?
‘Gotta go, Stace, but keep at it. I want to know everything about that woman. And good work.’
‘On it, boss,’ Stacey said, ending the call.
‘Okay, Bryant, you’ve got two minutes, so make ’em count.’
The satnav told her they would reach their destination in two minutes: it was 3.28p.m. She hoped DI Lynes was true to his word and wouldn’t move the body a moment before.
Kim caught a quick glance of the pier as they headed towards Walton Common.
They approached the external cordon at 3.29 p.m. The officer took what seemed like an age to check his clipboard before moving the cone for them to pass.
She was liking DI Lynes more and more, given he’d had the foresight to put her name on the list.
Bryant parked to the side of the pathologist’s van from which a stretcher was being removed.
Thank goodness he’d kept to his word.
She approached the inner cordon and cast her eyes over the people standing around.
On cue, a short man in a three-quarter-length rain mac turned and headed her way.
‘DI Stone, talk about taking it to the wire,’ he said, holding out his hand.
She shook it. The man had been more than obliging.
‘Suit up and come on through,’ he said as two forensic suits were held towards them.
Keats wasn’t normally as stringent at their own crime scenes, but she wasn’t at her own. She had asked permission to come and trample all over someone else’s crime scene. Their rules.
Once they were zipped up, an officer held up the cordon tape for them to cross.
‘You got something similar back in Yam Yam land?’ Lynes asked as they approached the activity.
She didn’t object to his reference to the Black Country, so-called due to many folks saying ‘Yow am’ instead of you are. It might have been a different story if he’d called her a Brummie.
‘If you’re talking long and horrific torture, then yes.’
‘Well, our guy is some piece of work, let me tell you,’ he said as the crowds began to part.
‘What the bloody hell?’ she asked as her eyes tried to process the scene before her.
