Kim offered him a slight nod as they sat on the two wicker chairs. His professionalism hid the feelings he’d revealed to her in the car. She could ask no more of him.
The liaison officer made tea and the dog placed itself next to Kim, leaning against her right leg. She moved her leg away and focused her attention on Mrs Harris. Her hair was completely grey and tufty in places. Kim was reminded of the front garden.
Mrs Harris’s face was pleasant but marred by the ravages of hard work and anguish. Her whole body was so consumed by arthritis it appeared that each bone had been fractured and reset incorrectly. Her right hand picked at the tissue in her left hand, producing hundreds of tiny white flakes that had formed a puddle in her lap.
The old lady fixed red-rimmed eyes on Bryant. When she spoke, her words were thick with a Black Country accent. ‘He wor a bad lad, Detective Inspector. Prison ’elped him.’
Kim nudged the dog away. ‘Mrs Harris, we’re more interested in what happened to your son than his past.’
Mrs Harris fixed Kim with a stare. Her eyes were raw but dry. ‘What he did was ’orrible and disgustin’ and I’ll never get the back on it. He pled guilty to all the charges and never tried any fancy defence with big words. He took the punishment o’ the court whether yo’ agree with it or not. He came out a changed man, real sorry for wor he’d done to that poor girl. If he could have took it back he woulda done.’ Her eyes filled and she shook her head. The impassioned defence of her son was over, leaving the cold reality that he was still dead.
She continued but her voice was shaky. ‘My lad wor never gonna be able to work again; his sentence was for life.’
Kim kept her face neutral and spoke honestly. ‘Mrs Harris, we fully intend to investigate the murder of your son. His history has no bearing on how we do that.’
Mrs Harris met her gaze and held it for a few seconds. ‘I believe yer.’
Bryant took over. ‘Can you tell us exactly what happened last night?’
The woman dabbed at her cheeks with the decimated tissue. ‘He ’elped me to bed about ten o’clock. He switched on the radio. I goo to sleep to the late night talking programmes. He whistled for Barney and then took him out. They always went for a long walk at night. Barney don’t like other dogs much.
‘Sometimes he’d stop at The Thorns and ’ave ’alf a pint before gooin over to the park. He just sat outside on his own with Barney. He’d buy a bag of scratchings and share ’em with the dog.’
‘What time did he normally get back?’
‘Usually ’alf eleven. I could never ger off to sleep properly ’til he was back in the house. Oh my, my, my, I cor believe he’s gone. Who’d do this?’ she asked Bryant.
‘I’m afraid we don’t know yet. Was he having any problems with anyone you know of?’
‘The neighbours wunt talk to either of us once I ler ’im move back in. I think folks shouted stuff to ’im if he went out in the day. One night he come back with a black eye but he wunt talk about it. There were a couple of nasty letters and some threatening phone calls and a couple of months ago we ’ad a brick thrown at the window.’
Kim felt sorry for the old woman left behind. Despite what her son had done, his mother had taken him in and tried to protect him.
‘Did you keep the letters or get the phone numbers?’
Mrs Harris shook her head. ‘No, chick, Allan threw ’em away and we changed our phone number.’
‘Did you call the police when the brick got thrown?’
‘You pair might be tekkin his murder serious but I doe think a brick through the window of a convicted rapist woulda brought much of a response.’
Kim didn’t answer; she knew Mrs Harris was probably correct.
There were no clues to be found in the threats and abuse he’d suffered, so Kim moved on.
‘Did he always take his wallet with him, you know, to pop into the pub?’
‘No, he never went to the pub on Friday or Saturday; too many folks. His wallet is on the table in the other room.’
‘Did he ever carry a knife, say for his own protection?’ Bryant asked.
Mrs Harris frowned. ‘He dint tell me if he did.’
They were prevented from asking any further questions by a knock at the door. The constable who had been observing went to answer it. Kim idly wondered how the frail woman was going to manage once this resource was removed. Eventually the case would be solved and the liaison officer would be reassigned.
‘That’ll be the Blue Cross,’ Mrs Harris said sadly.
As she spoke the words, the dog again rested against Kim’s leg. She did nothing as she realised that short of a good kick the bloody thing wasn’t going anywhere.
‘Blue Cross?’ Bryant asked.
‘The rescue centre that Barney come from. They’ve come to tek him back. I cor look after him. It ay fair.’
Fresh tears welled in her eyes. ‘My lad loved that dog, liked to think he’d given him a second chance.’
A male and female both bearing the logo of the rescue centre entered the room.
‘His dog lead is hanging over there. His bed is in the lounge and tek that brown teddy bear. It’s his best toy.’
The dog’s body trembled as it backed up against Kim’s legs. A feeling of sadness washed over her. The dog hadn’t judged his master on past crimes; he’d been a loyal, faithful friend and now his life here was over.
The male gathered the dog’s belongings as the woman retrieved the lead.
Mrs Harris leaned forward and patted the dog one last time. ‘I’m sorry, Barney, but I cor look after yer, mate.’
The woman attached the lead and began walking the dog out of the house. He turned at the front door, fixing Kim with a sorrowful, questioning stare.
She watched as the dog was led away from everything he knew. He was being returned to the display shelf, back on parade for another chance at a good home. A feeling she knew all too well.
Kim stood, abruptly. ‘Come on, Bryant, I think we have all we need.’
TWELVE
Alex headed towards Cradley Heath, impressed with her ability to adapt. In her field of research there were bound to be disappointments along the way. Shane had let her down but she’d turned that little situation to her own advantage without any detection.
There were always casualties of research but as yet Alex had not encountered any collateral damage that was not worth the end result. Disappointments were an occupational hazard but she was nothing if not resourceful.
Like now. After the events of the previous night it would only be right to pop back to Hardwick House to make sure everyone was okay, and if Barry happened to be around, then it could be a very good day after all.
She needed the distraction from thinking about Ruth. She had to accept that she would not get any data until their next scheduled appointment. The story was all over the news but the police would never put it together in that time, especially if Ruth had listened to her properly and removed the knife.
The day was bright but breezy. The trees moved as the last traces of winter were blown away.
As she drove through Cradley Heath she stopped at the Tesco superstore and picked up a selection of cheap cakes and pastries. It didn’t cost a lot, but again perception was everything.
She pulled onto the drive of Hardwick House and noticed a couple of extra cars. The weekend brought visitors to the occupants.
‘Refreshments,’ she said, entering the kitchen. David turned and Alex could see he was on the phone but not speaking. He ended the call and shook his head.
‘Everything okay?’
‘What are you doing back here so soon?’
‘Oh well, I’ll just take my goodies and go, shall I?’ she asked coyly.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘I just wanted to check that Malcolm and Shane were both okay.’ Sometimes, she surprised herself with how convincing she could be. She couldn’t have cared less about the two losers, but Barry was a different story entirely.