Or the Bull Kills You Read Online Free Page B

Or the Bull Kills You
Book: Or the Bull Kills You Read Online Free
Author: Jason Webster
Pages:
Go to
genitals,’ Quintero had added. Cámara had refused his offer to show him.
    â€˜As you wish,’ he said. ‘It’s not pretty, I agree. And I need to get a closer look at it, but from the angle and depth of the cut it’s possible the killer was attempting to remove the genitals completely.’
    â€˜Why didn’t he?’ Cámara said. Quintero shrugged.
    â€˜Perhaps he heard something. Perhaps he got frightened off. I don’t know. That’s more your department, I’d say.’
    The Juez de Guardia arrived at that point and Cámara was called away. Moments later, aware of how late it was getting, and with an eye to the public aspect to the case, the judge had ordered the body be removed, and the crime scene was left in the hands of the Policía Científica to scour for clues.
    Cámara glanced down at his notes, tossed on to the table as he’d walked in. Unsurprisingly, the overweight, balding guard at the bullring had seen nothing, too busy watching the Valencia–Real Madrid game in his little booth. (It ended in a goalless draw.) There was only one security camera, fixed on the main entrance, and there was nothing on it as they’d run out of film three months before and no one had got round to replacing it.
    Not that it was much good anyway, the guard had insisted – all it showed was a grainy black-and-white image. Wouldn’t even recognise himself if he appeared on it. It was only when he’d gone for a piss at half-time that he’d noticed something strange in the middle of the ring. Of course the floodlights were off, so he couldn’t see, and he wasn’t allowed to switch them on. Rules. Still, he’d gone out there to take a look, not that he was supposed to walk into the ring, mind. And that’s when he’d found the body. Still hadn’t got over the shock. Wouldn’t do his blood pressure any good.
    Far from being concerned that the crime of the year had taken place under his nose on his watch, he’d been more interested in complaining about the inconvenience this had caused him. Cámara had encountered this kind of thing before: one minute competing with the dead man for victimhood, the next he’d be down the bar milking it with his mates about having been there ‘the night Blanco was butchered’.
    The guard had called a local policeman to the scene, who had immediately contacted the Policía Nacional . The Municipales were for keeping traffic moving, sorting out domestic disputes, taking direct orders from the Town Hall. Murder was for the real police – the Nacionales – to sort out.
    They found Blanco’s driver back at the Hotel Suiza, where the matador had been staying. He’d waited after the fight, but Blanco never showed up, something the other bullfighters’ drivers confirmed. When Blanco failed to appear after half an hour, he left on his own, assuming that Blanco had already gone without telling him. He was fastidious about some things – like visiting the chapel – but then he had a habit of disappearing sometimes, breaking away from his entourage without telling anyone, perhaps vanishing for anything up to a couple of days before returning as though nothing had happened.
    â€˜We were never allowed to talk about it, or even ask,’ he told the policeman who interviewed him. ‘Just had to fit round him. The way it goes – he was the one paying the wages.’
    He’d only been with Blanco for a couple of months, and had already been ticked off by the matador’s apoderado , Ruiz Pastor, for trying to second-guess where he wanted to go.
    If ever he doesn’t show, you wait a bit, but then leave, Ruiz Pastor had told him. Don’t ever go around looking for him.
    Cámara reread the notes.
    â€˜I never asked,’ the driver said. ‘He’d disappeared for a couple of hours around lunchtime as well, just before getting ready for the

Readers choose

Valmore Daniels

Samantha Winston

Morticia Knight

Stephanie Janes

Anne Rivers Siddons

E.R. Punshon

Tod Goldberg