Page 31 of Her Deadly Promise

‘Do we have an actual description of Brock?’ Jacob asked as he indicated to turn into the housing estate.

‘No, unfortunately. With no prior and no one really knowing much about him, we don’t know if he matches the description of the man seen at Billie’s house the night before she was murdered. I checked for him on social media but from what I can see, he’s not on the main platforms like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or TikTok. At least, not under his own name.’

‘There could be a simple motive,’ he said as he braked at a junction. ‘Maybe she wouldn’t let him see their son and in a fit of rage, he went over and plunged a knife into her.’

‘It could be, but Kayden is his son too. Would a person really do that to their child? Kill his mother while he plays outside? Then, I think of that text. “I won’t be responsible for my actions.” It’s beyond threatening. He was livid.’

‘Yes, I suppose speaking to him will hopefully get to the bottom of it. Text sent in the heat of the moment or a threat that ended in murder? We are here.’

Jacob pulled over. They glanced up at the four-storey block of flats where the greyish paint had part-flaked from the balconies. Washing hung off some, bikes were piled on others. A dog barked and howled constantly from a property in the middle of the block.

As Gina stepped out of the car, a solitary magpie pecked at a clump of unrecognisable carrion that had been dragged out of the road. She suspected it was a badger. The afternoon stickiness sent a wave of nausea through her. She looked away from the roadkill and concentrated on the main door to the block. ‘What number is it again?’

Jacob pulled his phone out. ‘One.’

‘Bottom floor. I didn’t fancy climbing a million steps in this heat. Look, around the corner. There are front doors and gardens. We might not need to buzz with any luck.’ They followed the building around and an elderly man sat on a kitchen chair outside one of the flats, a straw Stetson over his eyes while snoring.

As Gina tapped at number one, the man pushed the brim of his hat up and knocked his walking cane onto the patio. ‘I can’t get any peace around here.’ He shook his head and turned away from them. ‘And I wish that dog would shut the hell up. All day and night. It’s enough to drive a person insane. Bloody torture.’

After knocking again, a rotund, grey-haired woman answered wearing the thickest glasses that Gina had ever seen. ‘Hello.’ She squinted as she examined them both.

‘Hello, are you Ms Brock?’

‘What do you want? If you’re selling anything, I’ve got no money so don’t waste your time and if it’s religion, I already have my God. He’s here in my heart and doesn’t need me to give you money.’

‘Ms Brock, I’m DI Harte and this is DS Driscoll. We’re here to speak to your son, Shaun. Is he in?’

She scrunched her brow and peered closer at their identifications. ‘My boy is good. He hasn’t done anything. Why do you want to speak to him?’

‘It would be best if we spoke to your son first. Do you mind if we come in?’

‘No, of course not.’ As they stepped in through the door, battling with the net curtain, Gina gazed around the front room. Small but clean, it had no end of welcoming furnishings from colourful cushions to a mat that said, ‘Make yourself at home’. The woman loved hearts, they were everywhere; in pictures, made of wicker and even stone ornaments.

Gina glanced at the photos on the shelf above the sofa and most were of her, a man and a little boy. ‘Lovely photos. Is that your son?’

‘Aww, yes,’ she said with a smile. ‘He was just a little ’un then and his dad was still with us, bless his soul.’ She made the sign of the cross and continued. ‘As you can see, he never ventured anywhere without one of his Matchbox cars and he grew up to build them – cars, not Matchbox toys. I’m so proud. Do you know he’s travelled to Australia and New Zealand? He’s a bit of an adventurer.’

‘Is he in?’

‘Oh yes. He’ll no doubt be listening to his music with his earphones on. The neighbour gets mad at the slightest noise so he has to wear them. Is that what this is about? Has that busybody next door complained?’

‘No, we just need to speak to him about an incident.’

‘I’ll go and get him, shall I?’ She stared as if Gina should elaborate but as soon as she realised she wasn’t getting any details, she shrugged.

‘That would be really helpful.’

The woman vanished for a few minutes before coming back with her son. ‘Here he is. This is my Shaun.’

‘What’s this about?’ He ran his fingers over his buzz cut brown hair and then stood, arms folded over his muscular frame. Yawning, he did up his belt and stretched.

‘We need to speak to you about Billie Reeves.’

His eyes widened. ‘Mum, I’m popping out.’ He aimed a pleading look at Gina and Jacob. ‘Let’s walk. There’s a bench that we can sit on and talk.’ The young man opened the door and stepped out.

‘Where you goin’?’ Ms Brock pulled up her joggers so that the waistband almost reached under her breasts.

‘Nowhere, Mum. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Shall we have a cup of tea? Maybe you could put the kettle on, I’m parched.’ Brock’s mother nodded, seemingly more than happy to make the tea.

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