Death's Cold Hand by J.E. Mayhew (kiss me liar novel english txt) 📗

that the residents of Sunlight would see the kids as coming from elsewhere. “What about this Bobby character?” he said. “The one who was said to have hit the old man and was arguing with Travis?”

“Possibly Bobby Price, sir,” Alex said. “He was hanging around outside Bebington High School, waiting for one of the pupils there. A lot of the kids are saying he killed Travis and this pupil grassed him up…”

“If only,” Blake muttered. “Do we know where he lives?”

“Working on that now, sir. From what we know, the boy he was after is called Harley Vickers. He ran from the school once he realised Bobby was waiting outside for him. We have Harley’s address. Mark Robertson nearly had Bobby Price, but Price assaulted him and made a run for it…” Alex nodded to the bruised PC who leaned against a wall at the back.

Blake looked over to him. “Are you okay, Robertson?”

Robertson sported a brilliant shiner. “I’m fine, sir. A bit battered and bruised. Been given a head injury letter to take home to my mum.”

“So, this Bobby Price. Is he known to the school?”

“Ex-pupil, apparently,” Robertson said, picking up the story. “He’s done the rounds of schools that would have him and settled in Bebington Secondary where they managed to keep hold of him until he was old enough to leave. He got a Food Technology GCSE…”

“Food Technology?” Blake said. “Is that cooking and stuff?”

“So I believe,” Robertson said. “That was a couple of years ago. The family moved so we’re having trouble finding his address. Since then, rumour has it that he’s dropped out of a couple of apprenticeships. Some of the pupils I spoke to didn’t like him. They called him a creep for hanging around with younger students. Or words to that effect. He hasn’t got a record but that could just mean he hasn’t been caught yet.”

“What about this other lad, Harley?”

Robertson looked at his notebook. “Thirteen. Troubled kid with a temper problem. Some mild learning difficulties. On the verge of exclusion several times.”

“I wonder why Bobby thought this Harley had grassed him up,” Blake said.

“It seems that another friend, Alfie Lewis, had been telling the world, his wife and their dog that Bobby had murdered Paul Travis and assaulted the old man in the Dell. Bobby blames Harley for some reason.”

Blake hissed and shook his head. “Bloody kids,” he muttered. “How do you make a situation ten times worse in seconds? Just add teenagers. Jeez.”

“I hope you’re taking notes, Andrew,” Kath Cryer said, grinning and giving Kinnear a nudge. “Ten years’ time and you’ll be running after a teenage daughter. Tearing your grey hairs out over her.”

Kinnear blushed. “Hopefully, we’ll give her a better moral framework…”

“Ooh, get you,” Kath said.

“I’m sure Andrew will make a great dad, Kath,” Blake said, awkwardly. He wasn’t a great one for banter. “Anyway, Alex…”

“We’ve got Harley Vicker’s home address, sir,” Alex said. “We could go and talk to him. If he’s afraid of Bobby Price, he might talk…”

“Or he might run away,” Blake muttered. “Yep. Let’s go for it. The sooner we find Bobby Price, the better. Have a chat with this Alfie Lewis, too. Have we managed to unlock Travis’ mobile phone, yet?”

“They’re still working on it, sir,” Kinnear said.

“His wife doesn’t know the pin for it?” Blake said. “Again, I can’t help thinking that there’s more to Paul Travis than just wholesome war hero and all-round good egg. What else have we got?”

“Sir, I called Nicola Norton, the psychologist who works for Pro-Vets, about Richard Ince. She was his counsellor before his suicide,” Vikki said. “She told me that Ince had been assigned a buddy from Pro-Vets. I’m waiting for her to get to me with the name of the buddy, but she hasn’t got back to me, yet.”

“Do you think Ince’s death was something other than suicide?”

“He left a note and overdosed on heroin, sir. It looks pretty conclusive. But Ince was drinking with someone the night he died. I think it might be the buddy. It could shed a different light on the case, that’s all.”

“Might be worth badgering this Norton woman a bit, Vikki. Did you mention the toy soldier?”

“No, sir. I thought we were keeping that quiet for now. Do you want me to?”

“Use your judgement. Norton might have some insight…”

“One thing she did say was that Paul and George often argued about money…”

“That’s come up before but it’s worth pursuing. Owens dismissed it but maybe we should push him on it along with where he was on the night in question,” Blake muttered. “We can’t leave him waiting for a formal interview all day. Though, to be honest, I feel like wasting his time like he’s wasting ours.”

“Want me to have a chat with him, sir?” Kath Cryer said. “A fresh face might just put him off guard…”

“Terrify him more like,” Kinnear said under his breath.

“Oi!” Kath said, elbowing Andrew in his side. “Who rattled your cage? You taking a breath between biscuits, soft lad?”

“Did you see that, boss?” Kinnear said, grinning. “That was assault, that was…”

Blake gave Kinnear a pained look but secretly he liked the fact that Kinnear and Cryer got along so well. At one time, they could easily have been enemies. “What about the baseball bat. Any indication where that came from?”

“Forensics indicated that there were no old scratches on the bat. All the impact damage done to it was associated with the attack as far as they could see,” Kinnear said. “That would suggest it was recently bought or bought a while back and not used.”

“They couldn’t determine which?”

“Sorry, boss, no. There’s no branding or logo on it, either. I checked with the major outlets and a baseball specialist in Birkenhead. Sports Direct and Argos sell wooden bats, but they’re painted. Our murder weapon is natural wood colour, never been painted as far as forensics can tell. The specialist said that the bat was probably some kind of composite rather than maple or ash.