Now things were different. The loss of the lovely, younggirl’s life, who had been so kind to Kay at a time when no one else would,caused her to begin sobbing uncontrollably. How could anyone have done this toher? Anna would never have harmed a fly. It was bad enough that the poor girlhad been bullied and abused by McVie while she was alive, but to lose her lifein such horrific circumstances was an absolute tragedy.
The footage switched to a picture of a policewoman sherecognised from the scene earlier, identified by an on-screen caption as D.I.Hannah Benson, head of the local police. She had never met her personally, butknew of her. Kent had mentioned a while back that it was her who had taken hisold job. She was being interviewed by Seema Mistry at the scene.
“We’re offering this reward because it’s vital that we catchthis evil man before he kills again,” said Hannah. “Someone out there must knowsomething. Please, if you have any information, anything at all, that you thinkmay help our investigation, come and talk to us.”
Kay switched off the television, grabbing a tissue to wipethe tears away from her eyes. She didn’t have any information she could giveHannah yet, but she was going to make damned sure she soon would. The evil animalthat had killed Anna was going to be brought to justice and she was the one whowas going to make it happen.
She decided against ringing Kent in case his wife wanted toknow who was calling and sent him a text instead, confirming that she wouldmeet him in the pub later in the evening.
Kay was nervous walking to the pub and stuck to the well-litmain roads. Even if she didn’t fit the profile of the other victims, shecertainly wasn’t taking any chances.
By 8pm, she was banging on the thick, wooden door of The RedLion. The curtains were closed and the place looked deserted, but a few secondslater, the door opened a crack and she was surprised to see Andy peering aroundfrom the other side.
“It’s alright!” shouted Andy back into the pub. “It’s justKent’s bit of stuff.”
“Let her in, then,” she heard Craig call.
Andy opened up the door and said, “Sorry about that. Craigdoesn’t want anyone to know he’s open tonight. It’s strictly a private party,just for his friends.”
“How come you are here, then?” quipped Kay.
“Me and Craig, we’re old muckers, we are. Go back years, wedo,” protested Andy.
“I expect you are,” remarked Kay. “You’ve probably paid forhis pension by now.”
“Any chance of a Christmas kiss, then?” he asked, gesturingat a sprig of mistletoe he had crudely attached to the top of his trousersdirectly above his crotch.
“You must be joking,” replied Kay, thinking what a twat hewas. Still, the little exchange of banter had temporarily alleviated thedistress she still felt at the death of Anna.
Making her way over towards the bar, Kay could see thatthere was a small but select group of drinkers in the pub, about fifteen intotal. They were all people she recognised, mostly long-time regulars,middle-aged divorcees and losers like Andy who had no one else to spendChristmas Day with.
It was quite a sorry-looking crowd, if she was being honest,the sort of people she used to feel sorry for until she become one of themherself.
Kent was at the bar with Nobby, who was rabbiting on aboutthe horses as usual. She also recognised the captain of the pub’s newly formedquiz team. The others had nicknamed him ‘The Beast’ after a character on ateatime TV quiz show on account of his vast knowledge and opinions on allmanner of trivial subjects. He had been boring her silly at the bar a fewnights ago with some theory about the Star of Bethlehem being an alienspaceship.
“The worst thing about Christmas is that there’s no racingfor three days,” said Nobby. “Thank God it’s Boxing Day tomorrow and we can getback to normal: I’m getting withdrawal symptoms.”
“Can’t you go on the fruit machine or something?” said Kent,gesturing towards the large, noisy box with flashing lights in the corner.
“There’s no value in them things,” said Nobby. “Strictly formugs, they are. Now, listen, you want to take my advice. I’ve been runningtomorrow’s cards through the computer and I’m telling you now, I’ve got thewinner of the King George at Kempton Park. It’s going to piss down tonight andthis thing’s been waiting for soft ground. Absolutely nailed on, it is.”
“Well, good luck with that, then,” said Kent, who had lostinterest in betting after an attempt at a time-travelling betting coup onAuroras Encore in the 2013 Grand National had gone awry.
“I can name every King George winner since it started in1937,” boasted The Beast, who was like a walking Wikipedia on such matters. Hewasn’t captain of the quiz team for nothing.
“I bet you can,” said Kent, who had spotted Kay approachingthe bar and needed an out from the conversation. “Why don’t you tell them allto Nobby here.”
The Beast turned to Nobby and started listing horses, givingKent an opportunity to greet Kay.
“What are you drinking?” he asked her.
“The usual,” replied Kay. “Double vodka and Coke.”
Kay had decided that now she was getting her life back, shewas going to cut out the binge drinking. When she was at rock bottom, she haddrunk to drown her sorrows, but those particular problems were behind her now.
However, tonight was an exception. The news of Anna’s deathhad hit her hard. She needed a drink tonight. She could make staying off thebooze her New Year’s resolution, once all of this was over.
The two of them made their way over to their usual table andsat down, ignoring the usual jibes from Andy who was still revelling in hisrole as impromptu doorman. He seemed proud of his temporarily acquired status,unaware that he had only been sent over there to give the others at
