Sangre De Toro (Old Draft - Now Published!)

Chapter 5 - Rita

Would Alfonso's belief in animal rights lead him to mistrust the police? Would he think less of Rita, with how some of her fellow officers had treated protesters? Unsuccessfully, she tried to reassure herself. Surely he wouldn't mind; his priority would be treating an animal in such desperate need. And why was she so worried about his opinion anyway?

What she and Alfonso were doing could not be more illegal. There were so many things they could be charged under. Theft? Unlicensed keeping of livestock? Was there anyone she could tell about this? She wasn't married to the job, but outside work, she didn't have many friends any more. They had dropped away almost without her realising. She had lost touch with so many people due to the frequent late nights and unsociable shifts. Being a cop separated her from other people, in what they talked about, what they did, even when it was off duty. And it separated them from her.

She hadn't been at the scene of the murder at the park. But she had to go and break the news to the guy's family. His name was Juan Stefano Herran and he had been homeless for a long time. He'd recently got a job and been given a new flat, his life was starting to get on track again. His mum seemed to collapse in on herself and his dad just sat there. Most of the gang had been arrested and charged. Hopefully, they'd be put away for good. She had almost cried after that phone call with Maria, thinking about the murdered man and his devastated family.

What a contrast to her own.  

Coming home to the destruction Pepelito had caused in her flat almost made her feel better. Seeing what humans could do to each other made her love animals and their innocence even more.

In spite of herself, she smiled.

Rita parked up, a short distance from the murder scene, a luxury hotel. She hadn't been in trouble with the law in her life, she passed the police exams with flying colours. She had never even had a speeding ticket. Her breath caught in her throat. She might not go to jail, but her career would be over. 'Detective hid escaped fighting bull in her living room, court hears.'

Smothering the walls and floor with cleaning products to get rid of poor Pepelito's blood last night certainly made her feel like a murderer covering up a crime scene. She thought of his obvious fear tonight, the pleading way he had looked at her yesterday with the terrible barbs stuck in his back. Of course she had helped him, humans were cruel enough to each other so why add to all the misery.

She locked the car and headed to join her colleagues at the AC by Marriott, giving the car a quick glance, to ensure there were no bits of straw, sand, animal hair or grass on the seats. She felt like a criminal.

Technically, she was.

*

The scene at Room 306 was cold and clinical. The victim, a woman in her 50s, had been dead just over 24 hours. She lay under crisp white bedsheets, looked almost peaceful. But this was very misleading. There were scratches on her arms. She had clearly put up a fight. Rita pulled back the bedsheets and what she saw made her nauseous. The woman had been stabbed several times in the stomach and was covered in bruises. Yet, the sheets and the clothes she was wearing were entirely free of blood.

'Any ID?' Rita asked one of the other officers on the scene. His name was Jesus Garcia Dominguez. They had worked together for 15 years.

'Yeah, British national from Edinburgh called Caroline McKenzie. 52 years old. She was the UK director of a retailer specialising in air conditioning units, washing machines, that sort of thing. On her first day here, she had a meeting with her Spanish counterpart. But aside from that, she was here for a 3 week holiday. She was meant to visit her son in Barcelona, but never turned up, so he rang the hotel. She was meant to check out today, but never did. Had a train ticket but never got on.' This was very different to the murder in the park, whose suspects were currently sat in the cells, telling everything to her colleagues. All murders were unpleasant, sad and squalid in their own ways. But this crime scene made her uneasy. It made no sense.