‘A brave face on what?’ Kim asked.

‘Bein’ at Crestwood, of course. That’s the thing, see. Everybody was there for their own reasons. It was a good stepping stone to wherever folks wanted to get. Except Mary. Salt of the earth, that one.’

Kim turned away for a second, thinking about the charges in the care of this group of people who at best, had offered no warmth, guidance or genuine care – and at worst, had done a whole lot more.

‘Did you know William Payne?’ Bryant asked.

Arthur guffawed. ‘Oh, you mean Golden Bollocks?’ he asked and then laughed to himself. It wasn’t a pleasant sound.

Kim turned and peered closely at the man before her. The effects of the alcohol were loosening him up. His focus was slightly off as he took another good gulp of beer, finishing off his pint.

Kim stood and went to the bar. ‘How many has he had?’ she asked Maureen.

‘A double whisky and he’s on his fourth pint.’

‘That his usual?’

Maureen nodded as she filled up a bowl with salted nuts for communal use. Kim wouldn’t have eaten one with an AK47 at her head.

Maureen turned and threw the empty bag in the bin. ‘Once he’s finished that pint, he’ll ask for another, I’ll refuse him. He’ll call me a foul name and then he’ll stagger home to sleep it off before coming back again tonight.’

‘Same routine every day?’

Maureen nodded.

‘Jesus.’

‘Don’t feel too sorry for him, Detective. If you’ve got any pity going spare, offer it to his wife.

‘Arthur’s a miserable old man who’s been a victim for as long as I’ve known him. He’s not a cuddly old granddad and he’s just as obnoxious, drunk or sober.’

Kim smiled at the woman’s honesty. By the time she sat back down the last pint was half gone.

‘Yeah, fucking Billy this, Billy that. Everyone bent over backwards for fucking Billy. Just ‘cos he had a spastic daughter.’

Kim felt the growl rise in her throat. Bryant shook his head at her and so she unclenched her fists. It wouldn’t do any good to floor him. He was never going to change.

‘Yeah, let’s all take care of Billy. Let’s give him all the easy jobs and leave all the shit for Arthur. Let’s let Billy work whatever hours he wants and Arthur can have all the rest. We all had fucking problems and if he’d just shoved her in a home we’d have never ...’

Kim leaned forward. Close enough to see the last ounce of clarity dawn in his eyes.

‘Never what, Mr Connop?’ Bryant prompted.

He shook his head and his eyes rolled but his hand eventually found his glass. He raised it to his mouth and finished it.

He held the glass aloft. ‘Another, Maureen?’ he shouted.

‘You’ve had enough, Arthur.’

‘Fucking slag,’ he slurred, banging the glass onto the table.

He stood and wobbled.

‘Arthur, what were you going to say?’

‘Nothing. Piss off and leave me alone. You’re too fucking late.’

Kim followed him out of the building and grabbed his forearm. Her tolerance for this embittered old man had run out.

She spoke loudly as a car ignited close by.

‘Listen, you know that three former staff members have died in the last two weeks. At least two were murdered and unless you tell us what you know you’re probably going to be next.’

He fixed her with a look that belied the level of alcohol raging around his body.

‘Let ‘em come, for fuck’s sake. It’d be a welcome relief.’

He pulled his arm from her grasp and stumbled down the road. He swayed into a parked car and then into a wall, like a pinball.

‘It’s no good, Guv. He’s not gonna tell us anything in this state. Maybe we should visit him later when he’s had a chance to sleep it off.’

Kim nodded and turned. They headed back to the car parked just around the corner.

As Kim reached to open the car door the air was filled with a sickening thud, followed by a high-pitched scream.

‘What the hell? ...’ Bryant shouted.

Unlike Bryant, Kim didn’t need to ask as she turned and started running back down towards the pub.

In her gut, she already knew.

Thirty-Seven

Kim was beside the prostate form of Arthur Connop within seconds.

‘Move away,’ she barked.

Three people stepped to the side and Bryant stood between them and the figure on the ground.

Before she turned her attention to the victim, Kim nodded to a youth across the road pointing a mobile phone in their direction.

Bryant sprinted across and without his protection the crowd began to converge on her again.

‘Folks, back off right now,’ she shouted, as she assessed the damage.

Connop’s left leg was hanging in the gutter at an unnatural angle. Kim leaned down and put two fingers to his neck which told her exactly what she already suspected. He was dead.

A young woman with a pushchair was already requesting an ambulance.

Bryant returned and looked down at her. ‘Guv, do you want me to ...’

‘Get details,’ she said. She would not expect her team to do anything she wasn’t prepared to do herself. And she was trained. Damn it.

She knelt on the ground as Bryant turned to the witnesses and tried to corral them away from the area.

She rolled him over onto his back, gingerly. His face was mottled with gravel from the road. His eyes stared, unseeing, up to the sky.

She heard the gasp of one of the witnesses but she had no time to worry about the sensitivities of onlookers. It was human nature to peer at things that would later cause nightmares but her priority was Arthur Connop.

Kim gently tilted back his head using two fingers beneath the chin.

His zip-up cardigan had not been fastened so she ripped open his shirt

She placed the heel of her right hand at the centre of his chest and placed her left hand over the top, interlocking her fingers. She pressed down sharply approximately six centimetres. She counted to thirty and stopped.

She moved to Arthur’s head and with her left hand pinched his nose shut. She sealed her lips over his mouth and blew steadily.

She watched as his chest rose; the result of artificial respiration. She repeated the process and then returned to compressions.

She knew that CPR was used primarily to preserve intact brain function until further measures could be taken to restore spontaneous blood circulation and breathing. The irony was not lost on her that she was trying to preserve a brain that the owner had spent years trying to destroy.

The squeal of police sirens stopped somewhere behind her. Their first priority would be to close off the road to preserve evidence. Others would take over questioning the witnesses.

Above and around her she was conscious of the activity but her focus remained on the lifeless figure beneath her hands.

A cacophony of voices surrounded her but one broke through her concentration.

‘Guv, shall I take over?’

Kim shook her head without looking up. She paused compressions, sure she’d just seen the chest move of its own volition.

She stared hard. It rose again. The light was returning to his eyes and a low guttural groan escaped his lips.

Kim sat back in the road, her arms dead with fatigue.

Arthur Connop looked right at her. She saw an instant of recognition and the glint of understanding as the pain throughout his body travelled along the nerves to his brain. He groaned again and a grimace contorted his features.

Kim laid a hand on his chest. ‘Stay still, the ambulance will be here soon.’

His rolling eyes found her as she heard another siren in the distance.