TWENTY-NINE

3.30 P.M.

The Dudley Arms was set back on the Wolverhampton Road in Himley and was known as one of the best places to get a decent Sunday lunch in the Black Country.

It felt as though the customers agreed with that fact, Kim thought as she entered the pub, stepping right into a satisfied atmosphere.

The busy lunch period was over, and the food trays were being removed. The smell of meat and vegetables still lingered and gave her a swift kick to a gut that had consumed no more than an unfulfilling pastry.

Once she was done here, she’d call Luigi’s on the edge of Halesowen and have him deliver a selection of food. She was willing to bet the rest of her team hadn’t eaten either.

She wove her way through the mid-afternoon air of contentment until she found what she was looking for.

‘Hey, Mitch, fancy seeing you here,’ she said, tapping him on the shoulder.

The look of surprise on his face was only matched by the rage on the face of his wife, who had very quickly clocked who she was.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Kim said, pleasantly, in an attempt to disarm her.

It did not work. The woman looked to her husband to take swift and decisive action.

‘Inspector, you have got to be?—’

‘There’s been a development,’ Kim said, dragging a stool from the next table, which had just emptied. ‘I tried to call, but the reception here must be terrible.’

‘No, I intentionally cut you off.’

‘No matter.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m here now.’

‘I can’t even imagine how you found me here, but you’re wasting your time, Inspector. I’ll take a look at whatever you have tomorrow. Now please leave us to enjoy the rest of our weekend.’

His wife’s glare signalled that she would have liked much stronger action than that.

‘We have teeth,’ Kim said, taking the envelope from her jacket pocket in its plastic evidence bag. ‘Wanna see?’ she asked, thrusting the blood-soaked envelope towards his wife.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste before she fixed her husband with another hard stare.

Kim handed the bag to Mitch, who, despite his thunderous expression, took a look inside the envelope.

He cringed as though an image had formed of the actions needed to get those teeth.

‘We have the recording,’ Kim said. ‘It was horrific.’

Mitch shook his head. ‘I’m just not sure what you want from me.’

‘Firstly, I want to know if they’re from the same person as the nails. Then I want to know what was used to extract them, and thirdly whether there are any clues on the box, the envelope or tape that might help us find this bastard before we start getting body parts the victim can’t live without.’

She offered a quick smile to his wife before turning back to Mitch. ‘Not much really. You could be home by teatime.’

‘Mitch, it’s the weekend,’ the woman whined.

‘I know, sweetie, but it’s?—’

‘You do this, Mitch, and you needn’t bother coming home.’

Kim could see the man was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Time to give the guy a helping hand and smooth these troubled waters.

She turned to his wife. ‘We don’t know each other, Mrs Mitch, but here’s what’s happening. A desperate, vulnerable person has been lifted from the streets on the promise of a warm meal.’ She paused to look around the pub.

‘We have been engaged in a race against time to try and save this man’s life. He appears to be suffering in real time having now had fingernails and teeth forcibly and crudely removed.

Your husband has both the skills and technology to help us find this poor soul and end his suffering, and if you can’t understand that, lady, shame on you.’