The male grabbed the remains of his phone and scarpered.
‘If you’re not involved or can’t help, move away,’ she shouted at the crowd. ‘Right now.’
Two men wearing roofing contractor jackets stepped forward. ‘Can we help?’ they asked.
Although they were pale and shocked, she could use all the assistance she could get.
She nodded. ‘Do you have anything to cover?…’
The taller man nodded and sprinted back along the pavement.
‘Did you see anything?’ she asked the other roofer.
He shook his head. ‘There’s an old lady over there that was walking by. I think she saw something,’ he said. ‘And a couple of folks in that group said something about seeing the delivery van.’
Kim glanced towards the woman being comforted by a younger woman over by the wall.
‘Can you start to move everyone back?’ she asked. ‘Try to identify witnesses and keep them separate.’
He nodded as his colleague returned with a dust sheet. Kim took it from him and carefully draped it over the dead woman.
She moved closer to Travis. She could see that he was exhausted.
‘Tom, do you want me to take over?’ she asked.
He shook his head without looking at her, keeping his concentration on the count of compressions between breaths.
She would have been the same. Despite the fatigue, during CPR you found a rhythm and blocked out the pain in the arms and shoulders. The movement became automatic but he would know about it later.
‘Sirens are getting closer,’ she said.
Although he offered no acknowledgment, Kim knew he had heard.
She took a few steps along the pavement to the elderly woman.
‘You saw what happened?’ Kim asked, gently. Damn, if Bryant had been with her he would have thought to ask if she was okay first.
The woman raised her head and nodded as a fresh batch of tears escaped from her eyes. Kim looked to the younger woman who was gently supporting her.
‘Did you?…’
The woman shook her head. ‘I was at the bottom of the road,’ she said, pointing to the corner approximately one hundred metres away.
‘Do you know this lady?’ Kim asked, as she saw a squad car pull in at the bottom of the road.
She nodded. ‘She’s a neighbour of mine. Her name is Mrs Harper, Enid Harper.’
Kim moved closer and touched the older woman’s arm. ‘Enid, can you tell me what you saw?’ she asked, gently.
From the corner of her eye Kim could see paramedics running towards her from the bottom of the street. Travis would be relieved momentarily.
‘It all happened so quickly,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I was walking just down there,’ she said, pointing with a trembling hand.
Kim nodded and stepped forward as the paramedics rushed past her. Black uniforms had arrived and were starting to bark instructions.
‘Did you see what kind of vehicle it was?’ she asked, hopefully.
She nodded and pointed across the road.
Kim followed her finger. ‘It was a grocery delivery van?’ she asked, confused.
‘That delivery van,’ she said, staring right at it.
Kim had been led to believe it was a hit-and-run; she needed to clarify before she went any further.
‘You’re sure the driver of that delivery vehicle over there knocked down these two people?’
She nodded as she wiped at her eyes.
Kim thanked her and headed towards the van parked fifty metres along the road.
One person dead and another one close to it.
It was definitely time to talk to the driver.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Dawson was not sure what he’d been expecting as they had travelled towards the residence of Gary Flint, but the man that answered the door was certainly not it.
‘Mr Flint. Mr Gary Flint?’ he asked, to make sure.
The man was early forties, dressed in smart black trousers and a plain white shirt. A faint mark around his neck indicated that the shirt collar had not long been loosened. Despite the early morning shadow appearing on his chin, Dawson recognised skin that was tended to by its owner. His hair was tidily cut, and his face was open and friendly as he looked from one to the other.
Dawson couldn’t help wondering if Stacey had made some kind of mistake. But the man nodded, confirming she had not.
‘May we come in?’ Bryant asked, holding up his identification.
He yawned and stepped back. ‘Of course,’ he said, pleasantly. ‘I’ve not long got back from work but please, come in.’
Dawson entered a room that was exactly the same layout as the house next door. Except this front room was awash with gym equipment instead of children.
He noticed the brand new Life Fitness Club Series treadmill facing the curtain-less window. His own gym had recently purchased a few of the machines for just under five thousand a pop.
‘Please, come through,’ Flint said.
They followed him to a small kitchen diner with a patio that looked out onto a poky thirty feet garden made smaller by a seven feet fence barrier fronted by conifer trees.
This man clearly liked his privacy out back but had unfettered windows at the front. To see but not be seen, Dawson couldn’t help but think.
‘How may I help you?’ he asked.
Looking closer, Dawson could tell that the open expression was now forced, tentative, tense.
‘We’re here about your neighbour, Henryk,’ he said, stepping forward. He would lead this one. ‘You know that he was badly beaten the other night – almost killed actually?’
Flint folded his arms and leaned back against the cooker, causing the ignition to click repeatedly behind him.
‘I’d heard something,’ he said, moving to the side.
‘Yeah, he’s in a bad way. Attempted murder, we think.’
‘Shame,’ Flint said, with no emotion at all.
‘You don’t like Henryk very much, do you?’ Dawson asked.
‘I don’t like any of them, to be honest,’ he said.
‘You mean the whole family?’ Dawson asked.
He shrugged.
‘Or do you mean Polish people in general?’ Dawson asked.
Again he shrugged. ‘I mean Poles, Pakis, Jews, N—’
‘I think you’d better stop right there,’ Bryant advised, and then nodded to Dawson to continue.
The shock quickly turned to anger, and Dawson had to force it back down. Way down.
‘So, you’re openly a racist?’ he clarified.
Gary Flint smiled. Dawson hated that the smile was pleasant, personable. Such ugliness inside should flash like a beacon and not be clothed in average normality. There should be horns, warts, disfigurement and scales to reflect the putrid person within.
‘If that’s what you want to call it. I prefer to think of myself as a nationalist.’
‘An honest-to-goodness card carrying member of the EDL?’ Dawson asked.
‘Absolutely. Keep Britain white, officer. We have become infected by so many races we no longer know who we are.’
‘And how far do you take your views, Mr Flint?’ Dawson asked through a jaw that was beginning to ache.
He shrugged but said nothing.