The Night Stalker by Robert Bryndza Read Free Book Online

want to talk to Penny. And I want to talk to this Gary Wilmslow.’

9
    P enny Munro’s house was in Shirley, an area of south-east London just a few miles from where they’d dropped Estelle. It was a modern ex-council house, with dun-coloured pebbledashed walls and lattice work on the new PVC windows. The front garden was neat, with a strip of immaculately lush green lawn, despite the lack of rain. A small pond was covered in netting, beneath which an explosion of lily pads was in bloom. A large plastic heron, frozen with one leg drawn up, was surrounded by a collection of huge, rosy-faced gnomes.
    When they rang the bell, an electronic version of ‘Land of Hope and Glory’ chimed out. Moss raised an eyebrow at Erika and Peterson. There was a long pause, enough for a whole verse to play, and then the bell fell silent. The handle waggled, and the door opened slowly – just a few inches. A tiny, dark-haired boy peered round at them with bashful brown eyes. Erika could see so much of Gregory Munro in his little face – the eyes and high, proud forehead – it was quite eerie. A television blared out from behind a closed door in the hall.
    ‘Hello, are you Peter?’ asked Erika. The boy nodded. ‘Hello, Peter. Is your mummy here?’
    ‘Yes. She’s crying upstairs,’ he said.
    ‘Oh, I’m sorry about that. Could you ask her if we can speak to her, please?’
    His eyes travelled over Erika, Moss, and finally, Peterson. He nodded, then threw back his head and yelled,‘Mummy, there’s people at the door!’
    There was a clink and the sound of a toilet flushing, and then a young woman with red swollen eyes came down the stairs. She was thin and attractive, with shoulder-length, strawberry-blonde hair and a small pointed nose.
    ‘Penny Munro?’ asked Erika. The woman nodded. ‘Hello. I’m DCI Foster. This is DI Peterson and DI Moss. We’re very sorry about your hus—’
    Penny began to shake her head frantically, ‘No. He doesn’t know… I haven’t…’ she whispered, pointing at the little boy, who was grinning as Peterson stuck out his tongue and crossed his large brown eyes.
    ‘Could we have a word, on your own, please?’ said Erika.
    ‘I’ve already spoken to some officers.’
    ‘Mrs Munro, it’s very important.’
    Penny blew her nose and nodded, shouting, ‘Mum! Muuum! Jesus, she’s got that telly up again…’ She opened the door in the hallway and the sound from the television intensified. The theme tune for This Morning blared out, rattling the thin frame of a mirror on the wall by the door. A few moments later, a large, elderly woman with a cloud of greasy grey hair and almost comically thick-framed glasses appeared at the living room door. She wore an androgynous green jumper and trousers, the legs of which were too short. They flapped above her swollen ankles, which poured over the edges of a pair of tartan slippers. The woman peered myopically through her murky glasses.
    ‘WHAT DO THEY WANT NOW?’ she bellowed, looking annoyed.
    ‘NOTHING, JUST TAKE PETER,’ shouted Penny.
    The old woman gave the police officers a suspicious look and nodded. ‘COME ON, PETEY,’ she said, her voice high and reedy. Peter took her pudgy hand and sloped off into the living room, looking back at them for a moment. The sound of the blaring television dropped when the door closed.
    ‘Mum’s deaf, and in a world of her own,’ said Penny. The sound of a car backfiring on the street outside made her jump and begin to tremble. She craned her head round them and looked up and down the street as an old red Fiat roared past, driven by a young man in shades and no T-shirt.
    ‘What is it, Mrs Munro?’ asked Erika.
    ‘Nothing… It’s nothing,’ she said, unconvincingly. ‘Come through to the kitchen.’

10
    T hey sat in a tiny sweltering kitchen cluttered with ornaments and frilly tea towels. The window overlooked a back garden even more infested with gnomes than the front. Erika found their manic rosy