Death Marks (The Symbolist) by Katy Walters

stripes pushed through the doors followed by the receptionist. 'Hello, my name's David Ferry, Manager here. How can I help you?'
    Dove stepped forward showing him her warrant card. 'Homicide. I was here with an officer, a few nights ago, questioning the barmen. We're investigating the murder of a young couple.' She showed him the photos of Delle, and then David. We have reason to believe they frequented here.' She produced the ticket. 'It's frayed, so there isn't a date on it.' We'd like to speak to some of your staff - barmen, waitresses, anyone who may have seen these two.'
    The man took the photos. 'I see. I'll most certainly show it to the staff; they're getting the bar ready now. You've come at a good time.'
    When was it ever a good time, Dove thought, as she followed him through to the main bar the length of the dancing area? At least, four young men and two older ones busied themselves polishing glasses, taps and mirrors, whilst half a dozen women cleaned the floor, tables and chairs in readiness for the oncoming crowd. Dove nudged Jack's arm. 'More staff here today, maybe we'll strike lucky.'
    Turning, the Manager said, 'I'll introduce you to the Bar Manager.'
    A taller man in a white shirt, dark trousers and black apron stepped forward, his face serious. 'Brent Mason. Can I help?'
    Dove showed him the photos. 'Would you ask your people to have a look at these? We're trying to find anyone who may have seen them here?'
    The bartender took them, nodding his head. Raising his arms he said, 'Everyone, your attention please. Gather round.'
    The workers stopped immediately. Huddling together, they scrutinized the photos. One young man with a number-one haircut, half a dozen earrings in his ears, and a small dagger through his eyebrow, spoke through lips, pierced with clips and rings, ' Yeah, I've seen them. About two weeks ago. She's a looker yer know.'
    Another young man laughed. 'Tight arse on her she has, knows how to shake the bootie.'
    Dove ignored their quips, they didn't have the full picture, and she had no intention of enlightening them. 'Okay.' Trying to ignore all the cutlery on the kid's lips she said, 'Were they alone? Did you see anyone with them?'
    He bit into the steel rings. 'Yeah; they were talking to these people, can't remember them, but they were nattering away; yer know.'
    Dove nodded, feeling a quiver of excitement. 'Try to remember, it's important.'
    'Why, they been murdered or something?'
    Dove looked at him her face expressionless with flat cop's eyes. He stepped back, shrugging. 'Yeah well, I fink I remember them.'
    Jack stepped forward. 'We'd like you to come down to the station. We could —'
    'I ain't done nuthin' ... really guv ... nuthin'.'
    Jack suppressed a smile, for all his rings and daggers he looked like a frightened little boy. 'No - no, we'd just like to get a better idea of them - link you up with the police artist, get an identity sketch - okay? Now your name?'
    'Terry.'
    'Terry what?'
    'Terry Paine.'
    Jack saw the young man glower, his eyes almost like slits, his tongue licking the steel nails on his lips. 'I don't really remember them guv, honest.'
    Jack clenched his teeth together. 'Remember them or not, we want you to come to the station.'
     

Chapter 20
    Sunlight gave way to a light rain as they walked up the path towards Kingley Vale. Tess let Sweetpea off the lead to run ahead. Stepping in some mud, she nearly slipped, but Redd caught her, reaching for her hand; it was small with delicate bones. 'It's a bit slippery here - hold my hand.'
    He felt a warmth towards her, not lust, just something intimate. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to be walking along beside her. Just for a second his mind darkened, would it ever really be natural? Would he ever trust again, or would fate step in with gnashing teeth and a honed steel knife?
    The vision of a toddler flashed across his eyes, the bright golden curls, cornflower blue eyes; they were so proud of him, handsome