Sangre De Toro (Old Draft - Now Published!)

Chapter 5 - Rita

Unlike Juan Stefano, the woman lying in front of them clearly had money. She was a company director who had flown first class from the UK for a 3 week holiday, and booked an expensive hotel. She had planned to go and travel around and visit her son. And this is how she ended up after only her second day.

'We'll need confirmation on this but the time of death looks like it was between 17:00 and 19:00 yesterday. She never checked out, and her son rang the hotel because she was meant to get an early train and meet him at 10 today, and she didn't show up.' 19:00, Rita thought. Pepelito had wandered into the house just before 18:00, hadn't he? A sickening thought emerged, but she pushed it to the back of her mind.

'Either the killer deserves a Nobel Prize for cleaning up the scene, or she wasn't killed here,' Rita said.

'Yeah, doesn't look like it,' Dominguez said, gesturing to the Luminol on the walls, which showed no traces of blood at all. What would her own house look like? To her horror, they'd missed a bit last night and some of the lower part of the wall looked like a butcher's shop. Rita took another look at Caroline. Her other clothes were being bagged up and taken as evidence. Crime scene tape surrounded the door. She had a brief look in the bathroom. It also looked pristine.

Rita stepped away from the bedroom and into the corridor. Dominguez followed her. 'Is everything OK? You look like shit if you don't mind me saying.'

'I could say the same thing, Jesus. I'm OK, my life's the usual chaotic mess it always is.' Dominguez had been one of the arresting officers on the scene of the Juan Stefano murder today. His usually tanned complexion was pale and his arm was slightly shaking.

'Get some rest, eh. I'll see you tomorrow,' she said.

She walked down to the hotel reception, marched up to the desk and said, 'I need a list of your staff, and everyone who was a guest at the hotel yesterday evening. Plus anyone who may have had access to the area, maintenance companies and so on.'

The woman at the check in desk was clearly in her teens or early 20s but looked as though she was about 12.

'S-sure. Let me get them for you.' When Rita spoke to her she looked like she was going to have a panic attack. Rita's first job had been in a hotel; she gave the girl a sympathetic smile, she couldn't imagine how she would be feeling.

After Rita had got the papers and thanked the receptionist she approached Caroline's son Iain. He was sitting on an uncomfortable looking and very new leather chair in the lobby, one of those expensive ones with no back.

'I'm so sorry,' she said in English, holding out her hand.

'Thanks,' he said in a slight Scottish accent. He wasn't crying but he looked stunned. Lost. 'It's just a complete shock really. Mum had been planning this trip for ages. And when I couldn't get hold of her and she didn't turn up - well. It wasn't like her. She's a career woman and always taught us to be punctual. She's a great person. Me and her and my brother, we went to Morocco last year, she was strict when we were kids but now, she's - Sorry. She was...'

His voice cracked. She laid a hand on his. 'It's OK.'

'Will you find who did this?'

'We'll try.' She took a deep breath. 'Did your mum know anyone else in Spain besides you? Was she meeting anyone else here?'

'My mum spoke Spanish better than me and I've been in Barcelona for 2 years. She had loads of friends here, she said something about meeting people here, yeah.' Iain looked towards the staircase where more police officers were coming down the stairs.

'Would you be able to give us any names?' she said gently. Iain shook his head.

'She said something, but I can't remember. She's just- she's only just died, I...' He was staring into the distance.

'It's OK.' Outside it was now completely dark. She thought momentarily of poor, battered, innocent Pepelito, with his straw bale in front of the TV. Did he still have enough water? Was he OK?

'I do remember something yeah, Mum's animal crazy, especially dogs, her and her partner have got four dogs at home, all rescues, he looks after them when she's away on business. She was going to see about adopting an ex hunting dog from a rescue somewhere around here, in Villafrechos. She said she'd spoken to some woman about it on Facebook called Raquel or something like that.' A chill went down Rita's spine. She felt a kinship with the dead woman.

'I don't think Mum's even met this woman. She said she was meeting her tomorrow, or trying to, I don't know if she'd arranged it or just wanted to see if she could. I'm sure it's not - I'm sorry I couldn't be any more help...' Iain shook his head.

'You've been fine. Here's my card. Inspectora Rita Silvera Delgado, Policia Nacional. Call me if you think of anything else.' Sometimes Rita felt like an impostor. This was one of these times. Would he really respect her authority and trust her professionalism if he knew she was hiding a bull in her house?

'Rita?' Iain said. 'Can I call you that?'

Rita turned back to him.

'You're going to catch this guy? Aren't you?'