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Dean Newton had yet to appear, but it didn’t take a genius to work out that this was a doss house. Dean Newton was the legal occupier on the council tenancy, but it appeared that he opened up his home to any degenerate.
To prove her point, the guy who’d answered the door plonked himself down onto a mattress in the front room and took out his drug paraphernalia.
Kim looked to Bryant.
‘On it,’ he said, stepping away to call it in.
The second the door opened, she’d known the place was awash with drugs, but to actively start using in front of a police officer was a bit of a piss-take. She couldn’t help but wonder at the guy’s complete lack of self-preservation in not getting himself nicked. How devoid of hope would you have to be to basically not give a shit if you were arrested or not, knowing that life was equally as appealing being locked up or free?
‘Dean Newton?’ she asked again as another male stepped in front of the doorway.
This one was in a dressing gown. His short brown hair was tousled, and a scar ran two inches across the skin of his left cheek.
Did no one in this place wear proper clothes?
‘What?’ he asked with the attitude of someone used to visits from the police.
‘CID. We need to talk to you about your time at Welton.’
His scrunched-up face told her that was the last thing he’d been expecting.
‘Wanna come in?’ he asked, stepping aside.
‘Not even if my life depended on it. You wanna put on some clothes and step outside?’
He grunted and disappeared from view.
She stepped away from the stench of grease, vomit, body odour and, God help her, urine.
‘Logged, guv,’ Bryant said, rejoining her.
She could imagine the long sigh of whichever officers caught this call. Uniforms would be no strangers to this address.
By the time Kim had moved a safe distance away, Dean Newton was striding towards them dressed in plain trackie bottoms and a body-builder vest top that was way too big for him.
A lit cigarette dangled from his fingertips.
‘Be quick,’ he said, looking around.
Oh yeah, any credibility he had on Hollytree was going to be decimated if he was seen talking to her.
‘I’m assuming you know about your old mates?’ she asked.
His blank expression said no. Kim had to marvel that in this day and age, you could miss three murders of people you once knew.
‘You don’t watch the news?’ Bryant asked.
He shrugged. ‘Doesn’t affect me.’
‘Three of your old buddies from Welton are dead.’
He shrugged again and took a draw on his cigarette. ‘Don’t give a shit about folks I know now, never mind back then.’
Kim felt the Hollytree shadow of despair creep towards her. The man in front of her represented the very ethos of this estate. No one gave a shit about anyone else. Maybe if they had, Mikey, her twin, would still be alive.
She shook away the thoughts, eager to get this done and dusted so she could get away from this soul-sucking environment.
‘You were part of the group known as the Psycho Six?’ she asked.
