Puppet Psycho by JG Alva

Author:JG Alva [Alva, JG]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-13T22:00:00+00:00

It wasn't yet five o' clock when Sarah knocked on Andrew Kitch's front door.

He lived in a two-up-two-down suburban home in one of the new housing estates in Emersons Green. For all its newness, Sarah thought that these housing estates lacked charm. But they were clean and well ordered. Every house had a drive and, as every Bristolian knows, parking in the city can be difficult.

She had a longer than usual wait before the door was answered. Kitch himself answered the door. His face was a picture; he seemed astonished, rather than just surprised. Kitch in his skivvies was not as impressive as Kitch in his suit; it was as if he had shrunk three inches.

"Detective Goodchild," he said.

"DC Kitch."

"Um…" He looked behind him, as if checking the state of the interior of the house. "Do you want to come in?"

"There's something important we need to discuss," Sarah said.

"Um. Okay. Then come in."

He opened the door wider, and she stepped up into the house.

There was no hall, no dividing wall, and when she stepped inside, she stepped directly into Kitch's living room. The carpet was a white shag, and matched the white walls. There were two long grey sofas arranged in an L-shape in front of a gas fire. A TV and DVD player on a stand occupied the corner next to the front windows. Sarah could see the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, past a bamboo screen and a fern that acted as a divider.

There was also a baby.

A colourful patterned rug in the centre of the room played host to a multitude of toys, towels, furry animals and bottles, while the baby sat in the middle of all this squalor staring fixedly at Sarah. She had the most startling brown eyes.

"She likes you," Kitch said, amused, shutting the front door behind her.

"I'm not sure she does." Sarah was unconvinced.

"Well. She finds you interesting anyway."

"This is Elsie?"

"The first of her name," Kitch said, bending down to pick her up.

He held her in the crook of his arm and brought her closer. With only a foot between them, Elsie's startling and hungry eyes seemed fascinated by Sarah. They were open as wide as she could manage.

"I didn't mean to disturb," Sarah said, pulling her attention away from the baby. "Is your wife here?"

Sarah moved past Kitch and around the sofas and poked her head into the kitchen area. It was empty.

"No," Kitch said. "It's why I took the day off. Lucy's mother's not well. Usually her sister would look after Elsie, but they're on holiday on the Isle of Wight until tomorrow. What do you want to talk to me about?"

Something caught Sarah's eye, something in the back garden. She stepped toward the window. A modest garden, with a small strip of grass at one end, and a small patio at this end, next to the house. A shape under a tarpaulin sat below the window. At one end, like a tortoise poking its head out of a shell, was a motorcycle wheel.

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