Free The Kill by Jane Casey Page A

house?’ That question came with a childlike lift of her bottom lip; she was trying not to cry.
    ‘I came with some senior colleagues to talk to your mum.’ To tell her or not to tell her … I’d waited too long to pour the water from the kettle. If I made the tea with water that had cooled, it would taste vile. I flicked the switch on again.
    She raised her voice so I could hear her over the hiss from the kettle. ‘About what? About Dad?’
    I concentrated on arranging the mugs, playing for time. ‘Would you like me to get your mum?’
    ‘No, I would like you to tell me what’s going on!’ The kettle switched itself off halfway through and Vanessa’s last five or six words sounded overloud in the small, shabby kitchen.
    I heard an exclamation from the next room, followed by soft, scuffing footsteps, and braced myself for Julie Hammond’s arrival.
    ‘What are you doing down here? Get back to bed.’ She sounded brisk rather than angry, and matter-of-fact rather than upset. I understood very well that she wanted to let her daughter have an hour or two more of normal life before she found out what had happened. I also understood that her daughter was having none of it.
    Vanessa looked stubborn. ‘I heard people talking.’
    ‘They’re talking to me. Now off you go.’
    ‘What’s happening, Mum? Is it Dad?’ The teenager’s voice cracked.
    The pause that followed told her everything. Mrs Hammond watched her daughter’s face crumple with a curious, detached expression on her own.
    ‘I’m sorry, Vanessa. He’s gone.’ A brief hug. I noticed the awkward contact between the two of them. You could see hugging wasn’t something they did often. Julie Hammond stepped back. ‘I’ll tell you more later.’
    ‘What? But—’
    ‘Go back to your room now. Take a cup of tea with you.’
    ‘I want to stay here. I want to know what happened.’
    There was an undertone of irritation in Mrs Hammond’s voice when she answered her. ‘I don’t know what happened myself. That’s what I’m trying to find out. That’s why I need to talk to the police officers who are in the lounge.’
    ‘I can sit with you. I can help.’
    ‘No, you can’t. You’ll just get in the way.’
    That was temper, I thought, not no-nonsense parenting, and it hadn’t taken long for it to flare up. Vanessa narrowed the one eye I could see.
    ‘You can’t keep me out of this. The police will want to talk to me.’
    ‘And I’ll be present for that.’
    The girl looked at me. ‘Is that true?’
    ‘Yes. Unless you want another responsible adult to be there,’ I added, and saw Julie Hammond’s face darken.
    ‘I’m her mother and I insist on being present when Vanessa speaks to the police.’
    ‘I don’t want her there,’ Vanessa said to me.
    ‘Vanessa!’
    ‘Mum, I don’t want you there.’
    ‘This is not the time to punish me for wanting to be a good parent.’ I could hear the strain in Julie Hammond’s voice.
    ‘It’s not about that.’
    ‘Then what is it about?’
    No answer from Vanessa. I watched the two of them face off. They were about the same height and Vanessa’s slender frame was like her mother’s, but the girl was prettier. At that moment, though, they looked just as stubborn as each other.
    A movement in the hall caught my eye: Godley. He came forward, taking charge.
    ‘This is a matter that can be resolved later. We won’t be speaking to anyone in the family until tomorrow at the earliest.’
    Vanessa looked around at him. ‘Who are you?’
    ‘Superintendent Charles Godley. I’m leading the investigation into your father’s death.’
    ‘Why does there have to be an investigation?’ She turned back to her mother. ‘What happened to him, Mum?’
    ‘He was murdered.’
    ‘Murdered?’ Even in the badly lit kitchen I could see the blood draining from Vanessa’s face.
    ‘Yes, murdered. Someone shot him on his way home from work.’
    Vanessa’s lips moved as if she was trying to say something, but