Page 13 of The Girl in the Woods

‘The music, Mrs…’ began Matt.

‘Skinner,’ said the woman. ‘I ’ave told him. Just ignores me. Freddie!’ the woman yelled, and Beth thought her thumping head would burst.

The door opened wider, and a diminutive figure in a flannelette nightgown appeared. ‘I keep telling him to turn it down,’ she said. ‘He never does what I tell him.’

‘Can you call him, please?’ asked Matt, who struggled not to inhale the atrocious smell of stale sweat, food grease and urine.

‘No, it’s fine,’ broke in Beth, who didn’t think her head would survive another yell. The music continued, pulsating through her brain like an African war dance. ‘Can we come in?’

Matt took a deep breath as the door opened wider. Beth reeled back at the stench before dodging past several cat litter trays that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in months and made her way upstairs. The stench of cat piss mixed with stale tobacco and fried food almost made Matt gag.

‘Don’t you dare,’ Beth warned him.

‘I’m not,’ he said determinedly.

Beth banged on the door, where the music was deafening. ‘Freddie, it’s Detective Sergeant Harper. Open the door, please.’

The music continued.

‘Bugger this,’ she said and turned the door handle. The door was locked.

‘Freddie,’ she shouted, ‘open the door, now!’

The music stopped, and after some minutes, the door opened. In the sudden silence that followed, Beth heard the faint sound of a dog whining somewhere in the house. Freddie stared at her, and Beth saw something she could only define as evil in his eyes. His close-cropped hair revealed a skin rash on his scalp.

‘So, what’s up?’ he said, chewing noisily on some gum.

‘I’m DS Harper, and this is DC Wilkins. The music,’ she said. ‘Let’s keep it off until a more sociable time, shall we?’

‘Whatever you say,’ he said cockily. ‘It’s only my house, ain’t it?’

‘You have neighbours that don’t appreciate your taste in music.’

‘Someone complained?’

‘I’m complaining,’ said Beth, fighting back the impulse to whack the little sod around the head. The dog’s continual whining was annoying her.

‘Do you own a trail bike?’ asked Matt.

Freddie Skinner grinned. ‘Where would I keep a trail bike? Have you seen the crap my mum keeps in this dump?’

‘Polite, aren’t you?’ commented Matt.

‘It’s my strong point.’ Skinner smirked.

‘Maybe you’ve got a garage you keep it in?’ suggested Matt.

‘I ain’t got no trail bike, all right?’

‘Did you hear a trail bike tonight?’

‘In case you hadn’t noticed, I had me music on.’

‘Do you know anyone who owns one?’ asked Beth.

Skinner shrugged. ‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’

Beth stared into the dark depths of his eyes. ‘Don’t make me come back because I might not be so pleasant next time,’ she said quietly, but the threat in her voice was deadly.

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