Confusion creased the girl’s features. ‘I don't fuckin’ know the ...’

‘See, if you went to school, look how much more you’d be able to extort.’ Kim leaned in closer so that their faces were an inch apart. ‘Now get out of the way before I drag you by your nose ring.’

Kim kept her voice low and allowed her eyes to do the work.

The girl stared back for a full minute. Kim didn’t blink.

‘Come on, girls, this bitch ain’t worth it,’ she said, moving to the left. The posse followed.

Once the doorway was clear, Kim turned. ‘Hey, lady; a tenner to watch the car.’

The girl hesitated but a second girl nudged her from behind. ‘Deal,’ she growled.

Bryant followed her into the shell of a building. Anything of value had been removed, including the ceiling tiles. A seven foot crack travelled from the right hand corner towards the middle of the back wall.

Three men stood in the opposite corner. They all turned. Two looked instantly panicked and headed past them to the door. Career criminals were like bloodhounds and could smell police from the neighbouring county.

‘Something we said, boys?’ Bryant asked.

One of the boys sucked air through his teeth as a sign of disrespect and Kim shook her head. The feeling was mutual.

The remaining man Kim recognised from the crematorium on the day they chased the body of Mary Andrews.

‘Pastor Wilks, I didn’t recognise you with your clothes on,’ Bryant quipped.

Victor Wilks smiled with barely concealed tolerance to a comment he must have heard many times. Although Bryant was not far wrong.

Dressed in robes, Wilks had been an instant figure of reverence, respect, familiarity. Here, in normal surroundings, he looked ordinary, just an average man. Her initial assessment at the crematorium had put him in his late fifties but without the uniform he dropped ten years. The casual clothing of light jeans and blue sweatshirt accentuated a build that was more muscle than fat.

‘May I offer you a drink?’ he asked, pointing to a silver urn.

Kim noted the last two fingers on his right hand. They curled underneath like a hook. It was an injury she'd seen before in bare knuckle fighters. Together with his above average height she was guessing he'd boxed at some point in his life.

Kim looked at the urn and nudged Bryant, who responded. ‘No thank you, Pastor ... Minister ...’

‘Victor, please.’

‘What the hell do you do here?’ Kim asked. No sane person would enter this place by choice.

He smiled. ‘Try to offer hope, Detective. This area is one of the most deprived in the country. I try to show them there is another way. It’s easy to be judgmental but there is good in everyone, you just have to look.’

Aha, there it is, she thought as his voice changed to sermon mode.

‘What’s your success rate?’ Kim asked, irritated. ‘How many of these souls have you saved?’

‘I don’t deal in numbers, my dear.’

‘Luckily,’ she said, wandering around the room.

Bryant began to speak about the investigation. ‘We understand that you would visit Crestwood regularly; speak to the girls, conduct short services?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘We also understand that now and again you would cover for William Payne?’

‘That is also correct. All of us offered cover for him now and again. His situation is unenviable, I’m sure you’ll agree. His commitment to his daughter is admirable. He is eternally grateful for the life of Lucy. He cares for her tirelessly. All the staff did their best to support him.’ He thought for a moment then added, ‘well, most of the staff.’

Kim completed her circuit of the room and stood beside Bryant. ‘Talking of the staff, can you tell us who was there during the time you were involved with Crestwood?’

Victor walked to the urn and Kim couldn’t help her surprise that the metal instrument had not yet been robbed for scrap.

He dropped a tea bag into a plastic cup. ‘Richard Croft had just been installed in the position of manager. His role seemed to be primarily administrative. I think his brief was to tighten budgets and improve efficiency. He had very little contact with the girls and that was how he liked it. I always felt that he never quite moved in, that he was in a rush to get the job done, meet his targets and move on.’

‘What about Teresa Wyatt?’

‘Well of course, there was friction between the two of them. Teresa was passed over for the manager’s job and so was resentful of Richard’s position.’

Wilks tried to stir flavour out of the tea bag. ‘Teresa was not a particularly warm woman and she and Richard clashed immediately. They hated each other and everyone knew it.’

All very interesting, Kim thought, but not explanatory of there being two or possibly three dead girls in the ground.

‘We believe Teresa had a bit of a temper.’

Victor shrugged but said nothing.

‘Did you see any evidence of it?’

‘Not personally, no.’

‘But someone else did?’ Kim pushed.

He hesitated and then opened his hands. ‘I don't see what harm it can do now. Teresa spoke to me about an impending complaint against her. I'd heard whispers that there'd been the occasional slap or push when Teresa's frustration got the better of her but this one was different. She'd actually punched the girl so hard in the stomach she coughed up blood.’

Kim felt her foot begin to tap. She placed her hand on her knee to keep it still.

‘And that was the complaint?’

He shook his head. ‘No, Teresa wasn't as concerned about the assault as she was about what the complainant was going to infer.’

‘Which was?’

‘That Teresa Wyatt had beaten the girl up for refusing to have sex.’

‘And did she?’

Victor looked unsure. ‘I don't think so. Teresa was honest with me about the assault. She admitted exactly what she'd done but swore it was not about sex. She knew that such an allegation would destroy her. Such a slur would have stuck to her name like a leech for the rest of her life.’

Kim closed her eyes and shook her head. The secrets just kept on coming.

‘Who was the complainant?’ Kim asked. She would bet her bike, house, and job that it was one of the three.

‘She didn't say, Detective. The conversation we had was for her benefit only. She wanted to talk it out to straighten things in her own mind.’

Of course she did, Kim thought. God forbid Teresa Wyatt would have given any thought to telling the truth.

‘What about Tom Curtis?’ Bryant asked.

Victor had to think for a moment. ‘Oh, you mean the kitchen cook? He was a bit of a quiet one. He didn’t really clash with anyone. A bit of a sheep, I suppose you’d call him. Got himself told off a couple of times for being a bit too familiar with the girls.’

‘Really?’ Kim asked.

‘He was mid-twenties, the youngest member of staff, so he could relate to them better. Some thought perhaps too well ‒ but it was only rumour, so I’d rather not comment further.’

‘But surely you had an opinion.’

Victor’s face hardened as he held up his right hand. ‘I will not sully the name of a dead man when I myself saw no evidence of impropriety.’

‘Inferring that others did?’ Kim pushed.

‘Not for me to say and I will not speculate.’

‘Understood, Victor,’ Bryant soothed. ‘Please continue.’

‘Mary Andrews was a no-nonsense type of woman who probably gave the girls the majority of attention. She was firm but loving and available too. It wasn’t just a job to Mary.’

‘And Arthur?’

Victor laughed. ‘Oh, Arthur Connop; I’d almost forgotten about him. A rather unfortunate individual, I always felt. I often wondered what must have happened in his life to make him so bitter and hostile. Strange little man, didn’t like anyone.’

‘Particularly William Payne?’ Bryant asked.

Victor scrunched up his nose. ‘Oh, I don’t think it was anything personal. William is a difficult person to dislike. I think Arthur resented the fact that the rest of the staff did things to help William out now and again. He didn't like anyone getting anything he wasn’t.’