Sangre De Toro (Old Draft - Now Published!)

Chapter 26 - Gotcha

'Just had an email about that 55-year-old victim in the UK,' she said, looking at the British policewoman's latest message.

'Oh yeah?'

'Guy called Graham Ferry. His ex's been inside for 8 years. They've just received the paperwork to let her out.'

'8 years for something you didn't do. Dios mio.'

'Yeah. Apparently there was a police corruption scandal, and the guy who was in charge resigned last year, so now they're looking into old convictions.' The narrow, paved streets gave way to wider roads again. It wasn't far now; the nausea in Rita's stomach intensified.

'Sounds familiar,' Dominguez muttered, rolling his eyes.

*

'Right, here we are,' Dominguez said as they arrived at the plaza de toros. A group of German tourists were buying tickets to the next corrida, which started in an hour. They looked excited and happy - to watch 6 bulls get slowly stabbed to death. Rita felt physically sick.

'If it starts in an hour, they'll have been in the dark for hours already with no food or water,' Rita gulped, thinking about how Pepelito had reacted to being locked in the bathroom. It was such a hot day. Dominguez gave her a look.

'Yeah, but this is our national tradition isn't it, for better or worse. There's not much you or I can do to help them except catching the killer, and any of this lot who are helping him,' Dominguez said under his breath as they approached the ticket kiosk. He was right. They didn't have many suspects. A witness had come forward saying she'd seen the enclosure keeper, Valero, attacking Sonia shortly before she died, but after eleven years, there was no guarantee this was reliable.

'Police, we're here to ask you some questions,' Rita said to the girl at the desk, putting a foot inside the doorway.

'Is this about that bull, I thought they'd found him?' the girl said, looking confused. She looked barely out of high school.

'No, it's about a murder. Several murders, actually,' Rita said, taking several deep breaths as she looked around. The ticket kiosk was full of bullfighting posters of varying sizes. One, from several weeks ago, advertised Castella's unfinished solo corrida on the 16th of April. Pepelito's name was listed along with Ladron and four other bulls in small print on the bottom.

'Oh,' the girl said, looking shocked.

'Where were you on the 16th of April after 17:00?' Rita asked, nauseous.

The girl glanced at the poster. 'That's when that bull escaped, right? I was here. Then they shut the whole thing and sent us home so they could go and look for it. I went home and then went out with some friends.'

Rita gulped back her overwhelming rage. Selling tickets to corridas was a terrible thing to do but this girl was just trying to earn some money.

'Can anyone confirm this?' she said.

'Sure,' the girl said nervously, writing something down on a notepad. 'My mum and my best friend. I'll give you their numbers.'

Rita took the piece of paper with the numbers on it. The kiosk was also selling tourist guides, fridge magnets and keyrings with bulls and matadors on them. Swallowing hard, she showed the girl the picture of Caroline McKenzie. 'Have you ever seen this woman?'

The girl looked at the photo. Something clicked. 'I dunno. Maybe. I think I saw someone who looked like her. She was having a conversation with some guy, I recognised him because he'd bought a ticket. It was a bit weird. They were arguing. But I don't speak English. So I didn't understand it.'