Free Wrong Place: A gripping serial killer crime thriller. by M A Comley

man’s brow. “What is this? Has something happened to her?”
    “Yes, I’m sorry. I should’ve said when we arrived. We’re investigating Maddie’s murder.”
    “Murder?” Trent shouted, his bloodshot eyes widening.
    The man on the couch bolted upright at the sound of his friend’s raised voice. “What? Who?”
    Trent collapsed onto the arm of the sofa next to his friend. “Maddie,” he whispered, clearly shocked by the news.
    His friend looked up at him then at Sally and Jack. “Maddie! This is some kind of April Fools. It’s got to be.”
    “No. That’s not the way we do things, sir. Sorry, I didn’t get your name?” Sally asked, unamused by the young man’s comment.
    “Wayne Frobisher. I work at the same pub as Maddie. We both did.”
    “Ah, you’re on our list of contacts. So you were both working at the pub alongside Maddie last night, is that right?”
    The two dazed men nodded.
    “Did you see Maddie talking to anyone in particular at the bar?”
    “She’s a bloody barmaid! That’s kind of in the job description. Chat up the punters, flirt a little, and hopefully, get them to spend more,” Trent replied sharply.
    “Really? I thought their main aim was to serve the customers—it was when I first started out. I used to work part-time behind the bar at my local when I was eighteen. Are you telling me that things have altered now?”
    Trent shrugged. “The full-timers are encouraged to go the extra mile, if you like, while the rest of us serve and move on to the next one.”
    That news totally surprised and appalled Sally. Is that the way every pub works? Uses its bar staff as some kind of prostitute? “Maddie was a full-timer then?”
    “Yep. She was really nice, too. Why would anyone kill her?”
    “We’re trying to ascertain that, but unless you guys can enlighten us about what went on last night, our job is going to be impossible. Please think—was there a stranger sitting at the bar, engaging in conversation with her?”
    The two men looked at each other. “I didn’t notice. Did you?” Trent asked Wayne.
    “Nope. We were too busy making arrangements for the party afterwards. She turned us down at the start of our shift, and we didn’t try to bug her into changing her mind.” Wayne ran a hand through his dishevelled hair.
    “Great! We know there aren’t any cameras at the pub, which is a shame. Okay, let’s try another avenue. Have either of you noticed a stranger perhaps arriving at the bar and talking to Maddie on any other occasion, say in the last week or so?”
    Both men shook their heads. Then Trent said, “We didn’t have any reason to be on the lookout for anyone. Why should we? Murders just don’t happen around here, do they?”
    “Actually, a fair few do. They just never hit the headlines,” Sally said. “What about Maddie’s ex? Did he used to frequent the pub?”
    Trent shrugged. “Maybe once or twice, when they first started going out, not so much lately. He took to dipping his end into some other pussy while she was working at the pub.”
    Sally cringed at the man’s vulgar interpretation. “Thanks for putting that so eloquently. He’s on our list of people to question.”
    Trent’s cheeks turned pink. “Sorry, just telling it how it is, lady.”
    “Inspector!” Jack reminded Trent.
    Sally smiled at her partner, thanking him for his gallant behaviour. He never let her down there. Thinking there was no point questioning the two men any longer, Sally decided to end the meeting swiftly. “Well, if nothing is coming to mind, then we’ll leave you guys in peace and get on. Here’s my card. If you think of anything, no matter how insignificant you think it might be, ring me, okay?”
    “Will do. Hope you find the bastard who did it,” Trent said, showing Sally and Jack to the front door. “Can I ask how she was murdered?”
    “No, you can’t. We don’t divulge details until after we’ve held a press conference. Does it matter?”
    Trent