They parked outside the woman’s flat and got out of the car. Jack rang the bell. No answer.

“I’ll nip next door, see what the neighbour can tell us.” Sally rounded the hedge and knocked on the red door, which a woman in her late sixties immediately opened, holding a yapping Yorkshire terrier. “Hello, I’m DI Sally Parker,” she shouted above the enthusiastic dog.

“Hush now, Stella. Let’s hear what the nice lady has to say.” The woman jiggled the dog in her arms until its barking ceased and was replaced by a low, intermittent growl. “There, that’s better. Sorry, dear, you were saying?”

“I’m with the Norfolk Constabulary. I was wondering if you know the resident or residents next door.”

“I do. Whatever have they done to bring the police knocking at their door?”

“Nothing. We’re simply conducting enquiries regarding a case we’re working on at present. Can you tell me the occupant’s name or names?”

“Let me think. There’s Jill and her friend, Tracy. Now don’t go asking me what their surnames are. I haven’t got a clue about that.”

“That’s really helpful. Do you know if Jill is around?”

“I wouldn’t know, dear. If there’s no answer, then I guess she must be at work.”

Sally shook her head. “There isn’t. Any idea where she works?”

“They both work at the local petrol station, the Esso one just down the road.”

“Thank you. I’ll drop by and see her. I really appreciate your help.”

“Any time, dear. Carry on doing a fabulous job keeping our streets safe, won’t you?” The woman waved Sally off.

“I’ll do my best.” Sally motioned for Jack to join her. “Apparently, Tracy shares her home with a friend named Jill. They both work nearby.”

They drove to the petrol station. Sally flashed her ID at the young woman with purple dyed hair and several piercings in her lip, serving behind the counter. “DI Sally Parker, and this is my partner, DS Jack Blackman. Are you Jill?”

She frowned and folded her arms defensively. “That’s right. Have I done something wrong?”

“Not that we know of. It’s concerning a friend of yours, Tracy Brand.”

“What about her?”

“I have some bad news. She was found dead this morning.”

Jill’s eyes widened, and she fell back against the counter behind her. “What? No, that can’t be right.”

“I’m afraid Tracy’s handbag was found at the scene. Of course, a formal ID has yet to be confirmed, but it’s important that we get our investigation started immediately, if we have any chance of finding the perpetrator.”

“I don’t understand. Are you saying her death was intentional?”

“Exactly. Her body was found in a motel room out at Great Plumstead.”

Confusion clouded the woman’s expression again. “I don’t understand. Why would John take her to a hotel room?”

Sally glanced at Jack and raised an eyebrow, then she turned back to the woman. “It was a motel, not a hotel. Who is John? Do you mean Tracy had a boyfriend?”

“Yes, John Hartman. Look, I had my own fella stay over last night. Tracy said she would give us some space and spend the night at John’s place. Not sure where the motel comes into it, though. John owns his own property.”

“Interesting. I don’t suppose you can give us his address?”

“Not off the top of my head, no. I can tell you where he works if that would help?”

“It would.”

The woman dipped her head and placed her hand over her eyes as if the news of her friend had just hit her.

“Are you all right, Jill?”

“Sorry, it’s such a shock. Not something you have to contend with every day. Let me think. Ah yes, he works in a restaurant down by the river. The Friendly Trout, I believe it’s called.”

“Okay, I know the place. Can you give us an insight into their relationship? Have they been dating long? Any trouble between them?”

“Gosh, doesn’t every relationship have problems from time to time? I don’t think theirs was any different. They’ve been dating a few years, off and on. There were no plans on them settling down and having a baby, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s the type of information I was after. Any major bust-ups lately that you know of?”

“No. I doubt she would have made arrangements to stay with him last night if that were the case.”

“Thanks for your help. I’m sorry for your loss. One last thing, do you have an address where we can contact Tracy’s parents?”

“No. All I know is they’re both seriously ill.”

“Okay, we’ll look into that. Do you know their names?”

“Not their first names. I only know them as Mr. and Mrs. Brand or Mum and Dad.” She smiled weakly. “The nursing home is in the area, if that helps any.”

“Thanks, it does. Does she have any siblings?”

“No. She’s an only child. Dealing with her parents’ care alone has been a nightmare for her.”

“Okay, thanks again. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll survive. I’ll call my boss and let him know. Tracy was due to work the evening shift. He’ll be pissed off about the inconvenience, I’m sure. Well, screw him.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sally and Jack left the petrol station and drove to the restaurant. “It’s getting on for eleven. They should be open by now,” Sally said.

“Do you really think the boyfriend could be the killer?”

“No, but we still need to question him, Jack. You know that. They obviously met up last night. The burning question is why they went their separate ways during the course of the evening.”

“Maybe the killer witnessed them having an argument or something along those lines and pounced on the opportunity to comfort her.”

Sally turned to look at him. “I’m impressed with your feasible assumption. Let’s see what John’s take is on the evening before we start thinking along those lines, eh?”

The manager of the restaurant greeted them in jeans and a T-shirt. “Sorry about the dress code. We’re just getting set up, not due to open for another hour or so. Police, you say?”

“That’s right.” Sally showed the man her ID. “We’d like to chat with John Hartman if that’s possible.”

“He’s busy preparing for a group party we have booked in at lunchtime. Can this wait until after his shift has ended?”

“No, sorry, it can’t. Is there somewhere private we can have a chat with him?”

“If you must. My office, I suppose. I’ll go and get him for you.” The man stomped off, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. He returned a few seconds later with a man dressed in chef’s whites. Sally immediately thought of the victim’s knife wounds. Knives were a chef’s tools of the trade.

The manager introduced them then showed the group into his office. He closed the door behind him, leaving Sally and Jack alone with a perplexed chef.

“What’s this about? The kitchen is really busy preparing for a long day ahead.”

Sally invited the man to take a seat and perched her backside on the desk in front of him. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her thighs. “We have reason to believe that you know Tracy Brand. Can you confirm that?”

“I can. Why?”

She smiled. “When did the pair of you last meet?”

“Last night. Why?”

“Where did you go?” Sally asked, ignoring the man’s question for the second time.

“Out to the pub, as usual.” Hartman shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Did something happen between you last night?”

“Depends what you mean. If you’re talking about sex, no.”

“I’m not, but thanks for the clarification all the same. That fact might come in handy later on in our enquiries.”

“What are you on about? What enquiries?”

“What happened after you left the pub?” Sally continued to ignore his questions. All her interviews took place on her terms, never on anyone else’s. The sooner this confrontational young man realised that, the better.

“Me and the lads went to the nightclub. Why?”

“Did Tracy join you there?”