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Authors: Angela Marsons
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blood.
She ignored the animal and continued to the rear of the small house. She found the elderly female sitting in a comfortable rocker in the dining kitchen that stretched the width of the small house.
Kim introduced herself as Bryant materialised beside her. He took the lady’s hand.
‘Mrs Harris, my name is DS Bryant and firstly I’d like to offer our condolences for your loss.’ He held onto the gnarled bones for a few seconds then placed the hand gently back in her lap.
Kim offered him a slight nod as they sat on the two wicker chairs. His professionalism hid the feelings he’d revealed to her in the car. She could ask no more of him.
The liaison officer made tea and the dog placed itself next to Kim, leaning against her right leg. She moved her leg away and focused her attention on Mrs Harris. Her hair was completely grey and tufty in places. Kim was reminded of the front garden.
Mrs Harris’s face was pleasant but marred by the ravages of hard work and anguish. Her whole body was so consumed by arthritis it appeared that each bone had been fractured and reset incorrectly. Her right hand picked at the tissue in her left hand, producing hundreds of tiny white flakes that had formed a puddle in her lap.
The old lady fixed red-rimmed eyes on Bryant. When she spoke, her words were thick with a Black Country accent. ‘He wor a bad lad, Detective Inspector. Prison ’elped him.’
Kim nudged the dog away. ‘Mrs Harris, we’re more interested in what happened to your son than his past.’
Mrs Harris fixed Kim with a stare. Her eyes were raw but dry. ‘What he did was ’orrible and disgustin’ and I’ll never get the back on it. He pled guilty to all the charges and never tried any fancy defence with big words. He took the punishment o’ the court whether yo’ agree with it or not. He came out a changed man, real sorry for wor he’d done to that poor girl. If he could have took it back he woulda done.’ Her eyes filled and she shook her head. The impassioned defence of her son was over, leaving the cold reality that he was still dead.
She continued but her voice was shaky. ‘My lad wor never gonna be able to work again; his sentence was for life.’
Kim kept her face neutral and spoke honestly. ‘Mrs Harris, we fully intend to investigate the murder of your son. His history has no bearing on how we do that.’
Mrs Harris met her gaze and held it for a few seconds. ‘I believe yer.’
Bryant took over. ‘Can you tell us exactly what happened last night?’
The woman dabbed at her cheeks with the decimated tissue. ‘He ’elped me to bed about ten o’clock. He switched on the radio. I goo to sleep to the late night talking programmes. He whistled for Barney and then took him out. They always went for a long walk at night. Barney don’t like other dogs much.
‘Sometimes he’d stop at The Thorns and ’ave ’alf a pint before gooin over to the park. He just sat outside on his own with Barney. He’d buy a bag of scratchings and share ’em with the dog.’
‘What time did he normally get back?’
‘Usually ’alf eleven. I could never ger off to sleep properly ’til he was back in the house. Oh my, my, my, I cor believe he’s gone. Who’d do this?’ she asked Bryant.
‘I’m afraid we don’t know yet. Was he having any problems with anyone you know of?’
‘The neighbours wunt talk to either of us once I ler ’im move back in. I think folks shouted stuff to ’im if he went out in the day. One night he come back with a black eye but he wunt talk about it. There were a couple of nasty letters and some threatening phone calls and a couple of months ago we ’ad a brick thrown at the window.’
Kim felt sorry for the old woman left behind. Despite what her son had done, his mother had taken him in and tried to protect him.
‘Did you keep the letters or get the phone numbers?’
Mrs Harris shook her head. ‘No, chick, Allan threw ’em away and we changed our phone
She ignored the animal and continued to the rear of the small house. She found the elderly female sitting in a comfortable rocker in the dining kitchen that stretched the width of the small house.
Kim introduced herself as Bryant materialised beside her. He took the lady’s hand.
‘Mrs Harris, my name is DS Bryant and firstly I’d like to offer our condolences for your loss.’ He held onto the gnarled bones for a few seconds then placed the hand gently back in her lap.
Kim offered him a slight nod as they sat on the two wicker chairs. His professionalism hid the feelings he’d revealed to her in the car. She could ask no more of him.
The liaison officer made tea and the dog placed itself next to Kim, leaning against her right leg. She moved her leg away and focused her attention on Mrs Harris. Her hair was completely grey and tufty in places. Kim was reminded of the front garden.
Mrs Harris’s face was pleasant but marred by the ravages of hard work and anguish. Her whole body was so consumed by arthritis it appeared that each bone had been fractured and reset incorrectly. Her right hand picked at the tissue in her left hand, producing hundreds of tiny white flakes that had formed a puddle in her lap.
The old lady fixed red-rimmed eyes on Bryant. When she spoke, her words were thick with a Black Country accent. ‘He wor a bad lad, Detective Inspector. Prison ’elped him.’
Kim nudged the dog away. ‘Mrs Harris, we’re more interested in what happened to your son than his past.’
Mrs Harris fixed Kim with a stare. Her eyes were raw but dry. ‘What he did was ’orrible and disgustin’ and I’ll never get the back on it. He pled guilty to all the charges and never tried any fancy defence with big words. He took the punishment o’ the court whether yo’ agree with it or not. He came out a changed man, real sorry for wor he’d done to that poor girl. If he could have took it back he woulda done.’ Her eyes filled and she shook her head. The impassioned defence of her son was over, leaving the cold reality that he was still dead.
She continued but her voice was shaky. ‘My lad wor never gonna be able to work again; his sentence was for life.’
Kim kept her face neutral and spoke honestly. ‘Mrs Harris, we fully intend to investigate the murder of your son. His history has no bearing on how we do that.’
Mrs Harris met her gaze and held it for a few seconds. ‘I believe yer.’
Bryant took over. ‘Can you tell us exactly what happened last night?’
The woman dabbed at her cheeks with the decimated tissue. ‘He ’elped me to bed about ten o’clock. He switched on the radio. I goo to sleep to the late night talking programmes. He whistled for Barney and then took him out. They always went for a long walk at night. Barney don’t like other dogs much.
‘Sometimes he’d stop at The Thorns and ’ave ’alf a pint before gooin over to the park. He just sat outside on his own with Barney. He’d buy a bag of scratchings and share ’em with the dog.’
‘What time did he normally get back?’
‘Usually ’alf eleven. I could never ger off to sleep properly ’til he was back in the house. Oh my, my, my, I cor believe he’s gone. Who’d do this?’ she asked Bryant.
‘I’m afraid we don’t know yet. Was he having any problems with anyone you know of?’
‘The neighbours wunt talk to either of us once I ler ’im move back in. I think folks shouted stuff to ’im if he went out in the day. One night he come back with a black eye but he wunt talk about it. There were a couple of nasty letters and some threatening phone calls and a couple of months ago we ’ad a brick thrown at the window.’
Kim felt sorry for the old woman left behind. Despite what her son had done, his mother had taken him in and tried to protect him.
‘Did you keep the letters or get the phone numbers?’
Mrs Harris shook her head. ‘No, chick, Allan threw ’em away and we changed our phone
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