Read Online Binary Witness (The Amy Lane Mysteries) by Rosie Claverton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rosie Claverton
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really saw Kate at work—we were never in that house.”
Bryn filed that information away. Unlikely then that the guy saw her at home. Must be work or university, with access to her address or following her home. “You noticed anything...after?”
“I left that place. Staying with friends up Gabalfa way.” Naomi looked away, a fine tremor running through her body. “I don’t feel safe in that house. Knowing he just got in there. She wouldn’t have let him in, I know she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t answer the door to the gas man in the middle of the day! He must’ve broken in. Landlord will never get anyone to live there now.”
Bryn had already interrogated the landlord, a Turkish bloke who spent more time abroad than in Cardiff and had the convenient alibi of being in the States when Kate had disappeared. “Thank you for your time, Naomi. I’ll let you know if we need to ask further questions.”
“Let me know when you find him,” she countered and left without meeting his eye.
Bryn didn’t know if it was fear that made her anxious—or was it guilt? Did she have something to hide, a boyfriend whose eye might have wandered? Something to bear in mind.
There just weren’t enough facts. Kate Thomas had died at home, but without reference samples, the hair and fingerprints in her bedroom could be the killer’s or they could be from a boy she’d shagged the week before. Bryn took a gulp of his ice water and concentrated on the task at hand. There had to be a lead here.
The bouncers did keep an eye on regular troublemakers, but they didn’t have anything for him apart from posturing and attitude, the typical response of security guys with a chip on their shoulder about proper coppers. They did describe a few guys who gave the girls hassle, but they’d all been barred now and they had no idea where he could find them. Bryn asked them to tell him if any of them tried to get back in, but he didn’t hold out much hope for cooperation from that lot of overeager amateurs. He’d be more likely to find his suspect bleeding in an alleyway.
The barmaids knew Kate to say hi to, but nothing more. She’d only been there for a few weeks, like the rest of them, and they didn’t do a lot of socialising. Most of them thought she’d been seeing Pete, but none of them seemed overly bothered about it. Bryn didn’t pick up much in the way of jealousy but they didn’t think he was a bad bloke either.
Bryn interviewed the bar-backs next, saving Pete until last. They got on well as mates, agreed that Kate was a looker but that she was definitely Pete’s bit of stuff. Dan, calling himself Pete’s best mate, told him that Kate had been Pete’s regular shag for a month or so, but there wasn’t much to it.
“You don’t think it was Pete, do you?” Dan said. “It can’t have been him anyway—he was working that night. He swapped with me so I could catch this gig at the Union.”
Bryn digested that information, annoyed that his prime suspect had an alibi.
“Don’t go upsetting him, yeah?” Dan said anxiously. “He’s missing his bird, her being dead and all. He might...well, he might do something stupid, yeah?”
Bryn figured out exactly what “something stupid” might be as soon as Pete burst through the door and, instead of taking a seat, paced angrily around the room, hands clenching and unclenching as he circled. “You’ve been talking trash about me,” he spat.
Bryn kept his cool and kept his seat, hands relaxed in his lap. “I’m trying to find out who killed Kate Thomas,” he said quietly and Pete subsided, blowing air through his lips.
“She was my girl,” Pete said, struggling to bring his temper under control. “Yet you’re asking all my mates if they’d do her? What’s that about?”
“Jealousy is a powerful motive, son. I need to know if there was anyone who’d kill Kate rather than see her with you.” Bryn tried to be honest with the boy, hoping he’d take it like a man and
Bryn filed that information away. Unlikely then that the guy saw her at home. Must be work or university, with access to her address or following her home. “You noticed anything...after?”
“I left that place. Staying with friends up Gabalfa way.” Naomi looked away, a fine tremor running through her body. “I don’t feel safe in that house. Knowing he just got in there. She wouldn’t have let him in, I know she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t answer the door to the gas man in the middle of the day! He must’ve broken in. Landlord will never get anyone to live there now.”
Bryn had already interrogated the landlord, a Turkish bloke who spent more time abroad than in Cardiff and had the convenient alibi of being in the States when Kate had disappeared. “Thank you for your time, Naomi. I’ll let you know if we need to ask further questions.”
“Let me know when you find him,” she countered and left without meeting his eye.
Bryn didn’t know if it was fear that made her anxious—or was it guilt? Did she have something to hide, a boyfriend whose eye might have wandered? Something to bear in mind.
There just weren’t enough facts. Kate Thomas had died at home, but without reference samples, the hair and fingerprints in her bedroom could be the killer’s or they could be from a boy she’d shagged the week before. Bryn took a gulp of his ice water and concentrated on the task at hand. There had to be a lead here.
The bouncers did keep an eye on regular troublemakers, but they didn’t have anything for him apart from posturing and attitude, the typical response of security guys with a chip on their shoulder about proper coppers. They did describe a few guys who gave the girls hassle, but they’d all been barred now and they had no idea where he could find them. Bryn asked them to tell him if any of them tried to get back in, but he didn’t hold out much hope for cooperation from that lot of overeager amateurs. He’d be more likely to find his suspect bleeding in an alleyway.
The barmaids knew Kate to say hi to, but nothing more. She’d only been there for a few weeks, like the rest of them, and they didn’t do a lot of socialising. Most of them thought she’d been seeing Pete, but none of them seemed overly bothered about it. Bryn didn’t pick up much in the way of jealousy but they didn’t think he was a bad bloke either.
Bryn interviewed the bar-backs next, saving Pete until last. They got on well as mates, agreed that Kate was a looker but that she was definitely Pete’s bit of stuff. Dan, calling himself Pete’s best mate, told him that Kate had been Pete’s regular shag for a month or so, but there wasn’t much to it.
“You don’t think it was Pete, do you?” Dan said. “It can’t have been him anyway—he was working that night. He swapped with me so I could catch this gig at the Union.”
Bryn digested that information, annoyed that his prime suspect had an alibi.
“Don’t go upsetting him, yeah?” Dan said anxiously. “He’s missing his bird, her being dead and all. He might...well, he might do something stupid, yeah?”
Bryn figured out exactly what “something stupid” might be as soon as Pete burst through the door and, instead of taking a seat, paced angrily around the room, hands clenching and unclenching as he circled. “You’ve been talking trash about me,” he spat.
Bryn kept his cool and kept his seat, hands relaxed in his lap. “I’m trying to find out who killed Kate Thomas,” he said quietly and Pete subsided, blowing air through his lips.
“She was my girl,” Pete said, struggling to bring his temper under control. “Yet you’re asking all my mates if they’d do her? What’s that about?”
“Jealousy is a powerful motive, son. I need to know if there was anyone who’d kill Kate rather than see her with you.” Bryn tried to be honest with the boy, hoping he’d take it like a man and
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