Sally skirted the man’s question. “So if we go back to the pub, perhaps the barmaid would know this man?”
“Couldn’t tell you. Depends how observant she was, I guess. Did Tracy suffer at all?”
“Let’s put it this way, anyone who is killed, I’d suggest their suffering rate would be at the max, wouldn’t you?”
“I was only asking. Mind if I get back to work now?”
“Okay, I’m satisfied with what you have told me, but I still need you and your friends to come down the station later today to give us a formal statement. Can I count on you showing up?”
“Does this mean that I’m no longer regarded as a suspect?”
Sally smiled tautly. “Did I ever say you were a suspect?”
He glared at her. “I’ll be there. Can we all show up together?”
“Why not? As long as we get the facts, why should I care? Can I ask you to sit down with one of our sketch artists, too?”
“If I must. Not sure I’ll be any good at sharing any further details with you about the man, though. I’m willing to do anything I can to help catch the sick shit, because whether you believe me or not, Inspector, I did care about Tracy. I no longer wanted to be her boyfriend, but she didn’t deserve to die.”
“On that, we agree. One last question. I know her parents are incapacitated, shall we say. Do you know if she had any other relatives close by? Only we’ll need someone to identify the body and make the arrangements for her funeral.”
“Shit! I don’t think there was anyone.”
Sally tutted; she couldn’t believe she was about to ask the question teetering on her tongue. “Would you be willing to ID her?”
“Me?” His hand slapped against his chest. “Crap, do I have to?”
“No, but if I asked you nicely, would you do it? I hate the thought of her being stuck in the mortuary as a Jane Doe.”
After a few seconds of thinking, he reluctantly agreed, “Okay. When?”
“We’ll ring you. I’ll let the pathologist know. That’s a big help. Thank you.”
They left the office together. Sally thanked the manager, and she and Jack headed back to the station.
Sally decided to send two members of the team, Jordan and Stuart, to question people at the pub where Tracy and John had argued. The rest of the day consisted of going over all four cases and revisiting the facts they had obtained, hoping that some kind of link would emerge. When the two team members returned, they informed Sally that the barmaid was eager to help and thought she might be able to give a good description of the man who’d occupied the stool for a few hours that night.
At last, Sally felt they were finally getting somewhere. She just hoped that momentum continued. On the way home, she asked the duty sergeant to be on the lookout for John and his friends to make their statements that evening. She hoped he wouldn’t let her down.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Feeling drained, Sally pulled into her parents’ road. Instinctively, her foot pressed down hard on the accelerator, then she screeched to a halt barely inches from the tall, tattooed skinhead whose hefty frame cast a shadow over her father. The brute was threatening her dad with a metal bar, while two more men, slightly smaller in stature, were cheering on the skinhead.
“What the heck is going on here?” she screamed at the offender intent on hurting her father.
The man slowly turned his head to look at her. Still chewing his gum, he said, “Who the fuck wants to know?”
Sally fished out her ID and marched up to him, shoving it in his face. “Back off. Or I’ll arrest you. Dad, what’s going on?”
“This lout just kicked Dex.”
Sally glanced at the gate to her parents’ house and saw her dog lying on the ground. She ran to him and knelt beside him. “Dex? Dex, are you all right, boy?” Sally’s mother was on the other side of the gate. “Sally, he needs the vet, love. I was just about to take him.”
“Shit. Okay, I’ll do it, Mum. I’m going to call for backup before I go. Can you try and get Dad in the house, away from that yob?”
“Lord knows I’ve tried, love. He won’t listen. Sally, I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. Nothing will happen while I’m here,” she assured her mother in spite of the apprehension gnawing at her gut.
She heard a commotion behind her and twisted just in time to see her father put his head down and ram it into the neighbour’s midriff. The brute and her father ended up on the ground, shouting and striking each other.
“Shit! Mum, call the station, tell them who you are and say I asked for immediate backup. Go!” She stroked her beloved dog and ordered him to stay, not that he looked as though he would be able to go anywhere soon. He whimpered as if sensing the imminent danger as she got to her feet and sprinted towards the fighting men. “Cut it out. Dad, get off him.” As she tugged at her father’s arm, the thug took the opportunity to punch her father on the jaw. “Do that again, shithead, and I’ll make sure you never get out of prison. Now, get to your feet.”
Sally managed to help her father stand but had to restrain him from surging at the thug again. The man bared his teeth, and when his two mates stepped forward to help him stand, he cursed and shrugged them off.
Within seconds, Sally was relieved to hear the sound of approaching sirens. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing next, buster, I’d reconsider that thought quickly.”
Ignoring her, he lunged at her father. Sally was quick enough to pull her father behind her. The man’s fist caught her good eye and her cheek. She heard a deafening crack before she ended up in a heap on the ground. Her father crouched beside her as two panda cars arrived at the scene.
“Arrest this goon for assaulting a member of the public and a police officer,” she ordered as four constables rushed to assist them.
“Yes, ma’am. Are you all right?” The female constable helped Sally to her feet.
“I will be. I need to take my injured dog to the vet. Add a count of animal abuse to the charges, too.” Holding a hand over her sore eye, she turned back to look at her wounded pet. “Dad, I need you to drive me and Dex to the vet.”
“All right. Sally, I’m sorry. I couldn’t let him get away with kicking poor Dex. Christ, I’ve gone and made things a thousand times worse now. Are you all right?”
“Busted cheek, I suspect. Sod me; I’m more concerned about the boy. Let’s go.”
“What about your mother? I don’t fancy her being left here alone with this mob.”
Sally nodded and asked the constable, “Would you mind staying here until we get back?”
“Of course not. You go. I’ll keep an eye on things here. Try to restore a little peace.”
“Good luck with that,” Sally replied, observing three uniformed officers as they wrestled with the man shouting abuse, his arms flailing around impersonating the sails of a windmill. She walked towards the house with her father. “We’re going to have to lift him into the back of the car, Dad.”
Her father stroked Dex. “It’s all right, boy. We’ll get you sorted.”
Between them, they carried the whimpering dog to her car, where the female PC held the back door open for them. Carefully, they placed the injured Dex on the backseat, and Sally and her father jumped in the front. She sped along the main road and pulled up outside the clinic of the vet who had cared for a number of their other animals over the years. Dr. Munroe agreed to see Dex straight away, and after assessing him, he came to the conclusion that the dog had two or three broken ribs. He rushed Dex through to another room to carry out the X-rays that would confirm his diagnosis. He returned about fifteen minutes later. “Three broken ribs. Can I ask how this happened?”
“We live opposite some thugs. I’d taken Dex for his evening walk when this goon drove like a maniac towards us, missing us by inches. When he got out of his car, I had a go at him about driving more carefully. He ran at me aggressively. Dex lunged at him, trying to protect me, and the bastard—sorry, excuse my French—well, he kicked the poor dog in the side. It was terrible. The force raised Dex off his feet.” Tears trickled from her father’s eyes.