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‘Err…Inspector, just how well did you know her?’ Keats asked as the crowd silenced around her.
Kim stood, ignoring the curious glances, including a questioning frown from her own colleague.
‘She was coming home and her time of death was around 11p.m.’
‘Excuse me?’ Keats said, more interested than affronted.
‘She’s a psychic. I attended her show last night. I spoke with her after the show. Warned her to stay safe.’
Kim realised Victoria had barely had time to act upon the warning.
‘I don’t think she even got inside,’ she said.
Keats waited.
‘Gin and tonic,’ Kim explained. ‘First thing she does when she gets home.’
‘Ah,’ Keats said, understanding her actions.
There was no smell of alcohol around her mouth.
‘How was she found?’ Kim asked. It was almost 3 p.m. and she’d been lying here since last night.
‘Delivery guy, over there – package needed signing for.’
Bryant didn’t need further instruction. He took out his notebook and headed over. Kim guessed he was going to get little. She’d already been lying there for hours by the time she’d been discovered.
Her gaze was drawn back to the woman’s face, and she was reminded of Monty Dunhill’s nickname for her. She certainly didn’t look like a show pony now.
Only last night this woman had held an entire theatre full of people in her thrall. Her energy and vitality had energised both the audience and the room. And that had all been extinguished by one person.
Right now, Kim didn’t care whether she was a genuine psychic or not. She cared only about catching the bastard that had done this.
Bryant headed back towards her, shaking his head.
As she’d thought. And her initial assessment of the property had not revealed any CCTV, not even a Ring camera at the door.
‘He’s got nothing, guv, except that the rest of his twenty-nine deliveries are going back to the depot.’
‘Helpful, Bryant,’ she said, moving back towards Victoria.
She looked towards the group of techies between her and the open door.
‘Sorry, guys,’ she said, taking a step around Victoria’s feet. She sighed heavily. Victoria’s flesh had been butchered, and she looked to have sustained more wounds than the other two. No scratches were visible through the fabric of the tracksuit, but a bloody handprint was evident on the door frame.
The techies moved aside for her to enter the house and immediately Kim got the sense that this was Victoria’s domain. For a minute she’d wondered if there was a husband, wife, kids off somewhere, explaining the delay in the body being found, but right away she knew that wasn’t the case. Just a couple of pairs of shoes were placed to the right of the door. One winter coat and a couple of lightweight summer jackets hung from the hooks.
As she moved further into the house she saw that the decor was soft and feminine throughout. Warm colours with flashes of pink everywhere against modern, minimalist furniture. A small TV on the fireplace wall was flanked by a floor-to-ceiling bookcase on either side.
She looked closer and saw books on self-defence, gardening, fixing plumbing problems. Her novels ranged from cosy romances to crime novels, with a bit of dystopian literature thrown in.
As Kim looked around, she didn’t get the sense that Victoria lived a lonely life. Her home spoke of contentment, peace and a woman who was happy in her own skin and her own company.
She pushed away the feeling that she’d somehow let Victoria down, but it resurfaced. She’d been with the woman the night before. Was there anything more she could have said or done to protect her, to have avoided this? She knew second-guessing their meeting would achieve nothing so she shoved the thoughts to the back of her mind.
Within ten minutes Kim had confirmed that there was no one else in the house and no one was expected back. It was also clear that the killer hadn’t made it inside the property.
‘You reckon he was lying in wait somewhere for her return, guv?’ Bryant said as they headed back to the car.
