Chapter 39

‘Okay, guys, it's show and tell time. I'll start,' Kim said, taking a position at the head of the room as she did whenever the spare desk was occupied. ‘We know a lot more about beauty pageants and just how seriously they're taken, especially by the parents.'

‘It's not just a bit of fun?' Penn asked.

‘Are you kidding?' Stacey said. ‘Even in our enlightened times, child pageants still focus on beauty. Apparently they're evolving to include inner beauty, personality, intelligence, but children shouldn't be concerned about the size of their thighs or their stomachs. As a girl who was a chubby kid, I can tell you that such a huge focus on body image at a young age just isn't healthy.'

Kim took a sip of her coffee which Stacey read as permission to continue.

‘From what I've read today, toddlers are expected to perform as perfect Barbie dolls. It's an unrealistic standard that's gonna follow you your whole life. The whole thing makes it normal for a two-year-old to walk around stage in tiny, tight bikinis,' Stacey said, shuddering. ‘How is it healthy to instil in kids that appearance is everything?'

‘I think we can guess your opinion on the subject,' Kim said, unsure if she completely disagreed. But then she thought of Toyah, who had loved every minute of the experience; were it not for the murder of her mother, she would have presented as a grounded, confident young woman.

‘I met a representative of a group you might like to join today,' Kim said with a raised eyebrow.

Stacey laughed. ‘Nah, they seem a bit extreme for my taste. Sorry, it just boils my blood.'

‘They certainly do have a hatred of the pageant world,' Bryant offered.

Kim nodded her agreement. ‘And we have two victims seemingly bound only by the pageant world. We wondered whether Carly Spencer's mom was a third victim, but she died of natural causes.

‘The dressmaker who worked with them both says they were very different, so it's hard to think what they might have in common outside of the circuit. Sticking with you, Stace, anything more jumping out from your matrix?'

‘Still working on it, but I've got the name of a make-up artist who seemed to be in demand.'

‘Get me an address by tomorrow,' Kim said, glancing at her watch. It was almost seven and she wasn't planning on going straight home.

She moved her gaze between Penn and Tiff. ‘Progress from you two?'

Tiff looked to Penn to speak.

‘Something not right, boss. The post-mortem is being rushed through cos no one is making any noise. He ain't Keats, that's a fact.'

Kim said nothing and waited for the question to come. Penn didn't like people doing half a job.

‘Boss, what are your thoughts on asking for a second opinion?'

And there it was.

‘It's not gonna be a popular request with our Sandwell colleagues, but if you think stuff is being missed, it's an option. What about suspects?'

‘Weird dynamic between the victim's girlfriend and her son, for sure,' Penn said, echoing the sentiment that had caused Tiff to question it in the first place.

‘Okay, stay with it, but keep me updated,' she said, folding her arms. ‘And on to other matters. Do we have a viable talent for Sunday night?' As inconsequential as the subject might seem to her team in the face of the cases they were working, Woody wasn't going to budge on them coming up with something.

No answer.

‘Are we seriously saying that there's not one talent amongst us?'

‘You don't think Woody might give us a pass?' Stacey asked hopefully. ‘I mean, double murder and all that.'

‘You don't think every other department is just as busy as we are?' Kim asked, dashing her hopes.

‘Couldn't you train Barney to do a few tricks?' Bryant asked.

‘Have you met my dog?'

‘Not even for an apple?' Bryant pushed.

‘He just about tolerates my presence for an apple so you can forget anything more.'

Still nothing from the rest of her team.

‘Ideas, people. We're running out of time. Now get lost and I'll see you all tomorrow. Except you, Tink – you can stay.'

Everyone else filtered out of the room, leaving the young constable with a pensive look on her face.

‘Jeez, Tink, you've done nothing wrong. Now tell me what's up.'

‘Nothing. I'm fine,' she said, adopting what Kim had come to know as the too-bright smile.

‘You didn't talk once in the catch-up. You've been in our briefings before, and you usually have no trouble speaking up. You're not out of your depth here. You brought this case to us, and now you get to run with it. Understand?'

‘I do, but how do you do this every day? How do you switch off? It's so intense and so…important.'

Kim smiled. ‘We all have our ways. It is a pressurised job, Tink. You work for the victim, you work for the family, people are grieving, they're looking to you. You have to find a way to let the pressure out. Many a detective has succumbed to alcohol or drugs to ease the pressure. It doesn't help and just gives you a whole new set of problems. Some of us go home and mess with motorcycles; some of us run around a rugby field when we really have no business doing so. Stacey immerses herself in World of Warcraft, and Penn does God only knows what. You have to find an outlet that works for you.'

‘Got it,' Tiff said, standing up.

‘One more thing,' Kim said as she got to the door. ‘You rely on your team. You use their strengths and weaknesses, and you share your frustrations. You lean on each other, clear?'

Now the genuine smile showed itself.

Tiff waved and headed out the door, and Kim readied herself to leave.

Unlike her team, she wasn't heading straight home to unwind.

There was another lost soul she wanted to check on.