Page 97 of The Other Side

“I’m coming. I can just lie on the back seat of the car. I’d rather be near you.”

Drum squeezed his thigh. “Thank you.”

They called in at a McDonald’s on the way. There was a long line for the drive through so Drum parked and they went in. It amused him that Osian had never eaten fast food before, although it took him ages to decide what to have. Finally, he chose a chicken burger while Drum had a Quarter Pounder. They both had thick shakes. Drum thought that particular item would make Osian smile, and it did.

Drum bought him a salted caramel McFlurry on the way out and Osian settled in the back of the vehicle eating and moaning as if he were having sex. “Oh gods, so good. Fuuck. So delicious. Mmm. Ohhh. Ohhhhhh.”

Drum laughed. “You don’t sound as happy as that when I’m fucking you.”

“That’s because you don’t come with a crunchy topping and a swirl of liquid gold,” Osian shot back without missing a beat.

“I could make salted caramel sauce.”

Osian sat up and put a spoon of the dessert to Drum’s lips. “As good as that?”

“Lie down again. We’re nearly there, and yes.”

Osian moaned. “This has hit the G-spot in my brain. Instant bliss.”

“I am deeply offended. I’ll have you know I’ve received rave reviews. Five stars on Just Eat. People line up for my caramel sauce.”

“Yeah, well, the line at the drive-through suggests McDonald’s is still winning the popular vote,” Osian mumbled. “Though if you offer sex with it, I’ll upgrade your rating.”

Drum laughed. “I’m going to reverse into a spot right at the far end of the parking area. I hope I’m not going to be long.”

“Be careful.”

“Always.”

Purbeck was waiting when Drum walked in. There were a few other officers around. Drum recognised Simmons and Ruskin. He also noticed the photograph of him hugging the sheep was still pinned to the board. Someone had written ‘The Chief said to improve community relations, not start a family’ in big black letters. Fucking hilarious.

“So…” Purbeck glared at him. “First, thanks to you, we piss off a grieving guy who has a concrete alibi for the night his mother is murdered. Now we’re expected to arrest his wife on the say-so of two teenagers based on a conversation with another teenager who was drunk?”

Fuck you. “In any murder investigation, the first people you should look at are those closest to the victim. A significant majority of homicides are carried out by someone the victim knows. All I did was pass on information about Stan Motson’s finances. All I’ve done tonight is pass on information that might show Bettina Motson is worth checking out more thoroughly. She could have been stupid enough to google how to kill someone with a pillow. She might have been nervous enough to try it out on Sonita Sharma to see how long it took. She assumed we’d think it was someone killing off old ladies. She even cut a lock of hair from each of them to make it look as though she was collecting trophies. Though I think the bit of hair in front of the toilet in Sonita’s bathroom shows she just flushed the rest. Did anyone check the handle for fingerprints?”

Three men stared at him.

“What the hell!” Purbeck perched on the edge of a desk. “So, PCSO smart-arse, what would you do next?”

His tone had changed. Only slightly, but enough that Drum caught it. Less contempt. More test. Drum was giving himself away. Shit. “I’ve been reading. I’m thinking of applying to be a detective constable.”

“Answer my question.”

“Gather facts.”

Ruskin snorted. Simmons folded his arms.

Purbeck didn’t move. “What facts?”

Drum counted them off on his fingers. “The timeline for her and her husband and their son. What was on TV that night. Was her car caught on any cameras. How deep she and her husband are in debt. What was her attitude to her mother-in-law as seen by the care home staff. How often did she visit. Did Joan complain about her. Did she have a key to the flat. Check her phone location. Check out where her son was. Who saw him and the Varley boys.”

Purbeck gave nothing away. “And?”

“The searches on her devices. Not just pillows. Smothering. Suffocation. How long. How hard to press. Disposable gloves. Cleaning products. DNA. Was there anything deleted.”

“You’re assuming she’d use her own phone.”

“I’m assuming people are usually less clever than they think they are.”