Chapter Fifty
Josie
It’s my day off, and even though I know I should let the whole thing drop, I can’t stop thinking about those unidentified blood spots.
I’ve called Roy to express my concerns, but he told me to let it go.
That there was no way we’d ever know who they belonged to, and it was clear that Stuart King had murdered Joanna Neal.
Still, I didn’t see the harm in doing one more round of house-to-house enquiries, to see if anyone had seen Stuart King near Neal’s home.
Unfortunately, the house was relatively isolated and no one had any helpful information.
I’d finally given up hope and decided to try one last house before heading home.
We were out of food, and I wanted to treat the boys, maybe cheer them up a bit.
A man, who I guessed to be in his early sixties, opened the door.
‘Hi, I’m DS Blackford. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions about the house across the road, number thirteen?’
‘Oh, where that woman was found,’ said a grey-haired woman, stepping up beside him.
‘Come in,’ the man said. ‘Not that we can help you very much.’
I stepped into their narrow hallway, where an old-fashioned sideboard took up most of the space. I pulled out a photo of Stuart King.
‘Do you remember seeing this man entering or leaving the house?’
‘Well, yes,’ the man said immediately.
My heart flipped.
‘When was this?’
‘To be honest, I only remember him because of the fish and chips.’
‘Fish and chips?’ I echoed.
‘We’d been out that day—’
‘One of our National Trust visits,’ his wife interrupted.
‘We got home late and didn’t feel like cooking, so I said I’d grab some fish and chips,’ he continued.
‘It’s just up the road,’ added his wife.
The man sighed. I wished she’d let him talk.
He pressed on. ‘I saw him walking up and down the street as I got into my car, and then he wandered into the drive at 13 Millwall Lane. I’m not being rude, but I remember him because he was quite large.
Then, shortly after, he came into the fish and chip shop while I was there. ’
‘He always has to wait longer because I order skate,’ his wife chimed in again.
‘I only really noticed him because of how he was leering at the girl behind the counter. It was pretty disgusting. The man was practically drooling. She was only young. He must’ve been close to fifty, and very overweight.’
‘Oh yes, you told me about him,’ said the wife.
‘When was this?’ I asked.
They looked at each other.
‘I really can’t recall,’ the man admitted. ‘We go out most days.’
I sighed. ‘Okay. Thanks very much for your time.’
It wasn’t much, but it was something.