Page 99 of Vengeance is Mine

‘Did anyone find out?’ Terry asked.

‘Not that I know of.’

‘What was Dominic like to work with?’

‘I didn’t work with him much. I’m on the tills mostly. Sometimes I supervise the self-service, but I hate doing that.’

‘You said Dawn had changed since you last saw her at school. In what way?’ Terry asked.

‘Well, she’s bigger for a start. She was never slim, but she’s piled on the weight. And last year she had jet-black hair. At school, she was mousey, more like she is now. I hardly recognised her at first.’

‘Selina, did you tell anyone who Dominic really was?’

‘No,’ she answered, too quickly. She suddenly had a shifty look about her, as her eyes darted around the room.

‘You did, didn’t you?’

Her eyes filled with tears. She nodded. ‘I told my mum. I tell her everything. And I told Scott, my boyfriend. He wanted me to pack in working here.’

‘Because of Dominic?’

‘Yes. He said, if a man has killed once then he could kill again, and it would be easier the second time around. He also said, if you looked at a photo of Stephanie White and then at me, you’d think I was a grown-up version of her, and I might be his next victim.’ She burst into tears.

Kyra leaned forward, snatched a few tissues out of the box and handed them to the crying girl. Selina squeaked a thank you and blew her nose.

‘I think your boyfriend may have been watching too many detective programmes, Selina,’ Kyra said.

Selina laughed. ‘That’s exactly what I told him.’

‘Selina,’ Terry began, ‘is there anyone among the staff who took against Dominic being released when it was announced?’

‘We all had something to say on that subject.’

‘But was there anyone who you thought might take matters into their own hands if the opportunity arose?’

She looked confused. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ She gave a weak smile.

‘Would anyone here have attacked Dominic, if they’d learned his true identity?’

She thought for a moment. More tears pricked her eyes. She nodded.

‘Who?’

‘Do I have to say?’

‘It would help.’

Selina led Terry and Kyra to the staffroom along the corridor from Bob’s office. Bob was in there with a few of the workers, all dressed in identical green uniforms. They were sitting on mismatched chairs, chatting among themselves with a mug of tea or coffee in their hands. Nobody offered the detectives anything to drink.

‘I liked Dominic. He was lovely,’ a woman in her mid-fifties called Margaret said. She had a thick local accent and a deep voice, evidence of a lifetime smoker. ‘Obviously we didn’t know him as Dominic, but he was a nice bloke, hard worker, not like some,’ she said, glancing over at a fat man asleep on a battered sofa. ‘Intelligent too, well read. I like that in a man.’

‘Margaret fancied him,’ a young woman said.

‘Piss off, Linda, I didn’t. I just liked him. He was different.’

‘In what way different?’ Terry asked.

‘He wasn’t your typical mouthy, leering sleaze you sometimes get working in warehouses, and trust me, I’ve worked in enough warehouses to tell you plenty of stories. He got on with his work and said hello.’

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