Steven Dunne - Deity

‘As far as I know,’ replied Alice. ‘We were away. Kyle knows Adele Watson from classes and they sometimes study together. She’s very smart but very serious. She’s a writer — poetry, I think. Well, I’m not surprised. She has everything going for her. And she’s really pretty. She gets on well with Kyle. Well, you know how it is with pretty girls and. .’ She tailed off, not wanting to hear the word again. When no one else filled the vacuum, she finally said, ‘Gays.’

‘What about Becky Blake?’ said Noble.

‘I didn’t know her that well,’ replied Alice. ‘We’ve seen her around with that other friend of hers, Fern something. She’s attractive in a cheap sort of way.’

‘Bit full of herself,’ agreed Len. ‘Reckoned she was going to be a model.’ The past tense prompted a discreet glance between the two detectives. ‘Well, if her dad had the final say she’d be a shoo-in. Had the poor sod twisted round her little finger, she did. Nothing too much trouble for her — clothes, the latest phones.’

‘Not the type to get on well with my Kyle,’ added Alice. ‘I’m surprised he invited her, but it takes all sorts. She may have been nicer than we thought.’

‘What about alcohol and drugs?’ asked Noble.

‘I bought Kyle a dozen WKDs from Bargain Booze,’ replied Poole. ‘He could have asked for a lot more and I’d have given him the money, but he isn’t much of a drinker.’

Brook eyed Mrs Kennedy for a reaction but she maintained the face of a stoic. Brook had been right about the basis for their relationship. Almost every time Len Poole opened his mouth it was to proclaim economic dominion over Alice. ‘Mrs Kennedy?’

‘Len’s right,’ she agreed, without looking up. ‘Obviously he’d tried a few things. Don’t they all? But drugs made him feel sick; tobacco too. He drank a lot for a year when he was sixteen and still working things out in his head. Nowadays children have to lay claim to adulthood before they’re ready. It’s so sad. Once he became more adult he had nothing to prove.’

‘And when was the last time you saw Kyle?’

‘I spoke to him on Friday afternoon before we left for Wales, through his bedroom door. I actually saw him last on the Thursday night. He went out with a CD and a poster. He said it was for a friend. Don’t ask me who.’

‘What time was that?’

‘About nine.’

‘What was his mood?’

‘Excited, nervous. About the party, I assumed.’

‘You didn’t see him after that?’

‘No. I heard him come in very late. He just ran up to his room and slammed the door.’

‘So you wouldn’t know what he was wearing last.’

‘Not for sure, but he only ever wore jeans and a T-shirt,’ replied Alice. ‘And a blue G-STAR hoodie to go out in. That’s missing.’

‘What about next-door neighbours?’ asked Brook.

‘Neighbours?’

‘They may have seen something the night of the party.’

‘Well, there’s Colin and Leanne, this way,’ Alice said, pointing. ‘They’re away. And the Stevensons, the other side. They were here. They’ve got two young children.’

Alice Kennedy stood by the door as Brook and Noble searched the small bedroom. It was surprisingly tidy, even the bed was made. They found nothing of interest, with no sign of Kyle’s secret passport, and left the laptop for the Scene of Crime Officers to dust for prints before possible removal. No kids used diaries in 2011. Kyle’s entire life would be in his phone, his emails or on a social networking site like Facebook or Bebo.

‘Is his room normally this tidy?’ asked Brook. Mrs Kennedy shook her head. ‘And you say you touched nothing except to pick up the mobile and the leaflet.’

‘Correct.’

Noble produced the mobile, inside its clear bag. ‘Where were they?’

‘On the bed, the phone on top of the leaflet.’

Noble took the leaflet from Brook and arranged the two artefacts on the bed. ‘Like so?’

Alice Kennedy nodded.

‘What about the aftermath of the party?’

‘Nothing out of place when we got home. No mess, no stains, no washing up in the sink, no empties. As if. .’ She bowed her head.

‘As if he was getting his affairs in order,’ said Brook.

‘Only later did we realise it was odd,’ she added. ‘Oh, there was one thing. Blood.’

‘Blood?’ said Brook. ‘Is this the sticking plaster?’

‘Yes, it was in the rubbish. It was just a tiny bit, soaked into a small plaster. There was a bit of linen bandage as well. I assume one of them cut themselves.’

‘Did the other officer take the plaster?’ asked Brook, looking from Noble to Mrs Kennedy.

‘No, I threw it out, though the bag should still be in the dustbin. They haven’t collected yet.’

‘Sergeant Noble will need to dig it out, with your permission.’ Brook declined to look at his DS.

‘Of course. It couldn’t have been more than a graze,’ she said, though her face now betrayed unease at Brook’s interest.

Brook gestured around the room. ‘Have you checked his wardrobe and drawers?’

‘Yes.’

‘Anything obviously missing?’ asked Noble.

‘He often went out with a small knapsack which he kept on the back of the kitchen door. It’s gone. His MP3 would’ve been in there. Maybe some jeans and underwear, his G-Star hoodie. That’s it.’

Brook was fairly certain that an MP3 was some type of modern Walkman. The detectives asked a few more questions then let Alice return to the lounge.

When she was out of earshot, Noble said, ‘There’s no SIM card in the phone.’

‘That’ll make things a bit harder. Kyle obviously doesn’t want to be found.’

‘You think that’s what it is?’

‘We’ll see.’ Brook stood in the middle of the room looking at the posters on the walls. ‘Kyle had quite a thing for The Smiths — and Morrissey in particular. Nobody else gets a look-in.’

Noble turned to him with a mocking grin. ‘That’s groovy, daddio.’

‘Yeah, all right John, I’m not dead yet. And it’s not as though you’re the right side of thirty. Besides, this is a lot nearer my youth than it is Kyle’s or yours. You may not know it but Morrissey’s a gay icon — tells us a bit more about Kyle.’

‘That he likes gay icons,’ chipped in Noble.

‘That he thinks for himself and doesn’t just follow the herd. He’s different enough to choose what he likes rather than what’s in vogue.’ Brook sauntered to the window to look out over the road. He stopped and peered out into the gloom, his gaze held by a young man standing beneath a streetlight on the pavement outside. He was tall and powerfully built and wore a sweatshirt, baggy shorts down to his knees and chunky training shoes. Steam rose from him as he took an ostentatious breather, hands on knees. But in spite of this, Brook was convinced the young man was watching the house, looking directly up at him, framed in the light of Kyle’s bedroom window. A moment later, the young man took a deep breath and turned to power away up the street.

Brook looked at his watch. ‘Have we got DNA?’

‘Toothbrush. The others too.’

‘I’ve seen enough,’ Brook decided. ‘Get a copy of Kyle’s passport application sent over. We ought to find out who endorsed his likeness on the photograph. Maybe we’re looking for an older man.’

‘A gay lover.’ Noble nodded. ‘But why hide it from his mum? It’s not illegal.’

‘Neither is masturbation but it’s not something you would want your parents to know about, John. Especially if Alice knew who it was.’

‘Somebody who’d groomed Kyle for a few years, you mean. A paedo neighbour maybe?’

Brook sighed but didn’t rise to the bait. ‘Possible. Check the SO Register tomorrow. See if it throws up a local name. Adele Watson and Becky Blake have passports, you said?’