Something Missing - ONC 2024

Chapter 5 - Departure (Part 2)

Rita and Alfonso walked past a Lebanese cafe opposite the tube station called Aljiran Altiybin. Alfonso glanced through the window. There were plenty of diners and a queue for the counter. 'This seems a nice place. The prices seem good. It has a big vegan selection as well.'

'Sure.' Being in the cafe helped Rita feel a bit more normal.

'I'll go and grab a table,' Alfonso said as they entered. Rita stood in the queue. It was long and slow, but she didn't mind waiting. She checked her phone. Her best friend Jesus Dominguez had sent her a meme about planned reforms in the Spanish police. There was another message from Emelina.

'Hi. :) Marta has just had her calf. We've called him Giuseppe. He looks just like Chicero doesn't he, apart from the black face and legs.' As she read Emelina's text, Rita smiled, but felt teary. There was a special place in her heart for the timid but beautiful grey bull whose life Pepelito had saved when he dramatically disrupted Henry Dixon's 'perfect' bullfight. So scarred was Chicero by his brutal ordeal that it had been months after his arrival at the sanctuary in Colmenar before a vet could check him over. Thanks to the patience and kindness of Emelina and the others, he occasionally came to the fence and had recently even allowed Rita to pet him briefly.

'That's great. Hope they're all doing well.' Rita sent the text and inched forward in the queue. The juxtaposition of the peaceful life her beloved animals had found and Erica's murder made her feel even more emotional. The cafe had a great selection of Lebanese dishes - tabbouleh salad, stuffed vine leaves, chickpea stew, pastries, baklava. Rita tried to think about what she would like. Her mind kept going blank.

'...of course, it's only right that they cancel the convention after this dreadful murder. My book launch can wait. I wish I knew where I had left my author's copy,' a man was saying behind her.

'You and Erica were rather...close, were you not, Jon?' Rita froze. The voice was posh. It sounded like the same guy she had heard talking in the corridor the previous night.

Sounded like him -

'Close? No. I wouldn't say so, Timothy. I only met her a few times, during the campaign.'

'Ah, yes, of course. The campaign,' the other man said in a thoughtful tone. It wasn't his fault but, sounding so like Henry's, his voice turned Rita's stomach. She told herself not to be stupid.

Rita turned around and saw a tall, thin man in his 40s standing next to a short, stocky man with grey hair. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I thought you were...someone else.'

'That's all right,' said the tall, thin man who Rita guessed was Jon.

He looked at her curiously. 'You wouldn't happen to be Rita Silvera, would you?'

'Why?' Rita said.

'I watched all the press conferences on the Henry Dixon case. I admire you greatly. I have read two books and watched three documentaries about it, although historical murders are more my specialty - Sweeney Todd, Mary Ann Cotton and so on. Your courage is incredible.' Jon's tone was sincere. Rita had only appeared in three press conferences, one during the investigation and two after Henry was killed, and nothing else. The thought of being well known enough to be recognised just from that stunned and appalled her. 

And she didn't want to have her name permanently linked with his.

'It was Pepelito's courage,' Rita said tersely. 'He was the real hero.'

'Oh, yes. An impressive bull, from such a prestigious lineage,' Jon said. The way he talked made her skin crawl. And what did lineage have to do with anything?

'Why are you telling me this?' Rita said warily. Why did these people think they could come up and tell her these things?

'I am somewhat familiar with the world of bulls.'

Oh.

Jon must have seen the look of revulsion on Rita's face. He said quickly, 'I should explain. My father was president of the Taurine Club before Henry. He's never had a good word to say about him. He blames Henry for dragging the Club's reputation through the mud. A great judge of character, my dad.'

'He was president of a club devoted to watching bulls dying. It deserves to be dragged through the mud. It doesn't seem like he's a great judge of anything.' Rita turned back towards the counter, shuddering. There was now only one person to go before her, and that person couldn't place their order fast enough.

'I quite understand,' Jon said, standing uncomfortably close to her. 'I have never seen any attraction myself. He and I have had many a heated debate.'

'There is no attraction. It is torture. Trust me, I know,' Rita snapped. Maybe one day she would be able to debate the barbarity that had led to the worst experience of her life 'rationally', but not now. Not here. The queue cleared and she stepped up to the counter.

'Hi. Two coffees, please. I'll come back to get food,' Rita said to the elderly woman standing behind the counter. The woman's hair was tied in a bun and she wore a white apron. Rita was being rude as hell, probably, but couldn't do much about it.

'Sure,' the woman said. 'Wait at the side.'

Rita stood at the side, hoping Jon wouldn't talk to her again. She stayed as unobtrusive as possible at the far end of the coffee counter. Jon placed his order  and she felt his gaze keep straying towards her as he waited.

'Your coffee,' the elderly barista said to Rita, sliding them over on a red tray. As she reached to pick it up, someone nudged Rita hard on the arm.

It was the woman from the lift. Sandra.

The woman who claimed Eloise was innocent.

'Don't let that man worm his way into your life.'

Rita stood, stunned.

'He's evil. Don't even speak to him,' Sandra said loudly, flecking the air with spit. Everyone in the cafe turned to look at her. 'I saw him last night with that - that hussy - but I didn't want to believe it was him. I couldn't believe he had the nerve to come here, to a convention I've been attending for twelve years. Like the coward he is, he's changed his name and...and...cut his hair.'

'That hussy' had to be Erica.

'I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen the title of his book and the talk he was giving. Of course they're about his idol, Jack the Ripper.' Sandra's face was red. She was shaking with anger, so much that she looked like she was about to explode.

'Sandra.' Jon's voice came from somewhere Rita couldn't see. It was laden with menace. 'Don't make a scene here. May I remind you, the Court of Appeal found me innocent.'

Sandra screwed her face up. She spat onto the cafe's wooden floor. 'How dare he come? How dare he invade a place that was my sanctuary, just to rub his freedom in my face? He's the man who murdered my sister!'