BooksBarbecue
Back The Ringmaster Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. Cover
  2. The Ringmaster
  3. Contents
  4. Prologue
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. Epilogue
  72. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  73. Copyright

I’d already checked out the stock on the shelves before approaching Mr Attitude, and found some very long ties that matched the one used in the murder. The tie used to bind Rose-Marie Bateman’s hands was still attached to her, so all I had for comparison was a measurement and a grisly photo. One small satisfaction was that the discovery of possible candidates meant I had the pleasure of relieving the man of some of his stock.

‘I’ll need to take some samples of those ties for the investigation.’

‘Well, I hope you’re going to pay for them.’

Bloody hell. Here we were, working on the murder of a young woman, and he was worried about a few cents for some crappy bits of plastic. It must have shown on my face as he dropped his eyes and had the decency to look abashed.

‘I’ll give you a requisition form, so you need not worry about losing any money. We would hate to inconvenience you in any way.’

‘Okay, that’s fine,’ he mumbled.

His discomfort gave me a small stab of pleasure. I turned and looked towards the area where the plastic ties were shelved. There was a surveillance camera nearby that possibly covered that section. I turned back to the manager.

‘Your security cameras. Are they constantly recording?’

‘Yes.’

‘What about that one there.’ I pointed to the front corner. ‘How far back would the footage go? Would it be a week or more?’

He assumed that sheepish look again. ‘No, it wouldn’t go back quite that long.’

‘What, only a few days?’

‘Well, no.’

‘What then?’

‘We record over the same file each day.’

I was about to ask why the hell they bothered with it, then? But what was the point? Life was too short. It was almost four o’clock; he’d be counting down the seconds until closing and yesterday’s recording was probably overwritten.

‘Can I get you to at least print out the sales of cable ties going back a week, then?’

‘Yeah, I can do that, but not straight away. It takes a while. These things aren’t instant, you know.’

‘That would be appreciated,’ I said, forcing myself to be polite. ‘Can I pick them up in the morning?’

‘Yeah, fine.’

5