Blood Red Roses Read Free

hair.’
    â€˜So someone asthmatic was close to her before she died?’
    Rhona considered this. It wasn’t uncommon for rapists to take a shot of an inhaler before making their move on a victim. They were so worked up that an asthma attack could be on the cards.
    â€˜There was no evidence of sexual assault,’ Bill reminded her.
    â€˜Maybe watching Donna die was thrill enough.’
    A smiling Chrissy left the lab at six to meet PC Williams, the young constable she had met the evening before. Rhona stayed on to work on the Bacardi Coke bottle. On arrival that morning, she’d filled an empty bottle with a mixture of plaster of Paris, stuck a thin wooden rod down the neck and set it to harden.
    Now, using the rod as a handle, she took a small hammer and gently tapped the side of the bottle until it cracked in several places. Then sheheld it over the waste bin and gave the bottle three short sharp knocks. The glass fell away in dozens of shards.
    Now she had a plastic replica of the bottle, she could start putting the murder weapon together again. Chrissy had laughed when Rhona produced the Bacardi Coke bottle that morning. She laughed even harder when she heard Rhona’s plan.
    â€˜No chance,’ had been Chrissy’s expert opinion.
    Rhona suspected Chrissy was right, but she had to give it a try.
    She arranged all the pieces she’d picked up on a tray. She would start the long slow process of fitting the jigsaw together tomorrow.
    Outside, Rhona shivered in the raw night air. She hadn’t brought the car. She could have tried for a taxi but decided to walk. Walking helped her think.
    Street lights threw pools of yellow on grey puddles. The rain had dwindled to a faint mist that masked sound. Cars swished past throwing water in her path. Rhona strode on too absorbed to notice. In her head she was replaying the scenethat had ended in Donna’s death.
    Donna had been given a Bacardi Coke outside the ladies toilet. There were no signs of force so Donna took the drink willingly. But that didn’t mean she knew her murderer. Rhona hoped she did. If they were dealing with a psycho who had no link with the victim, it would be even more difficult to find him.
    Bill had questioned Donna’s mates. They insisted Donna was seeing no one but Jonny. They also said they had seen nobody they knew on the night of the hen party. Only Tracey seemed wary. Wary and scared, according to Bill.

 
CHAPTER FIVE
    â€˜Where the fuck is she?’
    Tracey couldn’t tell him the truth. ‘She’s not well.’
    Belcher’s fat sweaty face grew redder.
    â€˜Tell her she’s fired if she doesn’t turn up tomorrow night.’
    He shoved a rose at Tracey. ‘You do it. Room five and make it good.’
    The green baize walls and heavily carpeted hallway smothered all sound. Tracey passed four doors and stood outside number five, waiting for the double vodka to swim through her blood stream.
    There were four of them. Spiked hair, designer stubble, muscled bodies under patterned short-sleeved shirts. A stag night maybe? Or just guys who liked getting off on girls like her.
    â€˜Hi Rose. Come on in.’
    They were seated round a circular table, three champagne bottles in the middle. One of them handed her a full glass and watched her drink it in a oner.
    The music came on. She started on the blonde one with the pale eyes because he looked harmless. She unbuttoned his shirt and with the rose in her mouth traced his smooth chest, lower and lower until she reached his hardening crotch.
    The others yelled in delight.
    Jonny came in at midnight and took a seat at the bar. Tracey had finished her stint with the four guys and badly needed a drink. She didn’t see Jonny until it was too late.
    He grabbed her arm and forced her onto the stool beside him. His face was a mask of hate.
    â€˜She was still doing this, wasn’t she? That’s how she was paying for the fucking