Keats nodded. ‘To the hands and forearms. Exactly as you would expect with this type of crime.’
‘Okay, Keats, thanks.’
‘Oh, my boy, I thought I’d taught you better than that.’
Shit, he was not getting himself back into favour any time soon.
‘Sorry, my mistake. Is there anything more I should know?’
‘Yes, my boy. When you find the person responsible, you should be charging them with two counts of murder.’
‘Why would—? Oh no,’ he said as the penny dropped.
Keats nodded as his face filled with sadness.
‘Yes, our girl was around two and a half months pregnant.’
Eighteen
‘Do you think Daniel knew she was pregnant?’ Bryant asked once Kim ended the call from Penn.
Kim shook her head. ‘If he did, he’s a bloody good actor. The only person he was grieving yesterday was Ashley. If he’d known, he would have said that he’d lost a child as well. She wasn’t far gone, so maybe she’d not long found out and was waiting to share the news once it was safer,’ Kim said, although the cynical part of her mind had to wonder if there was another reason Ashley hadn’t shared the news. So far the woman was whiter than fresh snow, but was there a chance that Daniel wasn’t the father of her baby?
‘We gonna swing by and share the news with him?’ Bryant asked as he pulled into a parking space.
‘Not information that we need to share before tomorrow. He’s going through enough managing his own and Ava’s loss.’
‘Fair point,’ he said, switching off the engine.
‘And at the minute I’m more interested in what our granny-batterer has to say for himself,’ Kim said, getting out of the car.
The property was a small semi-detached bungalow. The driveaway was no-nonsense tarmac with a ramp and railings leading to the front door.
She hadn’t made it too far along the path before she heard the music. She felt instant sympathy for the folks on the other side of the party wall.
After the third time of banging on the front door, the music abruptly stopped. The door opened to reveal the male she assumed to be Robbie Steele.
Judging by his expression, he hadn’t yet grown the street smarts to recognise them as police.
As Bryant took out his identification and introduced them both, she took a moment to appraise him.
He matched her five feet nine height exactly. His dark brown hair rested on shoulders covered by a black tee shirt bearing the face of Ozzy Osborne, the singer who had been shrieking through the walls a moment ago.
He appeared to be a couple of stone over his ideal weight but wore it well in decent jeans.
‘Nice shoes,’ she observed, nodding at the Fendi trainers which had probably set him back a few hundred quid.
‘Thanks – present from my gran.’
Kim couldn’t help wondering if his gran had knowingly bought him the expensive trainers.
‘Is she in?’ she asked.
‘Nah, she’s at the eat and bleat club.’
‘The what?’
‘The old folks’ centre. They have something to eat then moan the afternoon away.’
