You’ve got it coming, tart.
Stacey scrolled right to the bottom. The messages were all one line and often repeated. They’d been going on for years. There had never been any response, and Stacey wasn’t sure Ashley had even read them, but that didn’t really matter.
What mattered was that whether Ashley knew it or not, someone wanted her dead.
She picked up her phone to call the boss.
Eight
‘Could the person sending the abuse be the same person as the one asking about netball?’ Kim asked once Stacey had stopped speaking.
‘Maybe. The netball user has since deleted their profile, but it could have been. Not sure Ashley even knew she was getting these awful messages.’
‘Yeah, but someone hates her enough to keep sending them and has done for a very long time,’ Kim said as Bryant pulled up outside a small estate agency in Pedmore.
‘It could be all talk?’ Stacey offered.
‘Except that she’s dead, and it’s possible that her killer approached her on Facebook to find out her movements.’
‘The woman sending the foul messages made no attempt to hide her identity,’ Stacey pointed out.
‘Sending messages is one thing; planning a murder is another. She might want to hide that a little bit better. Anything on her profile to suggest a reason for the hatred?’ Kim asked.
‘Not yet. Her Facebook page is an open book. She’s thirty-four, has her own foot spa in Cradley Heath and spends a lot of time taking photos of her car.’
‘Okay, Stace, send me the details,’ Kim instructed before ending the call.
In all honesty, she wanted to go and visit this woman immediately, but they were here to meet with one of the last people to see Ashley alive.
‘Not quite squeaky clean, eh?’ Bryant asked as they got out of the car.
‘Thank God,’ Kim said as they stepped into the premises. Victims with no enemies were the worst kind when it came to solving their murder.
They approached the front desk, showed their identification and found themselves being ushered to the manager’s office immediately. It was a small but busy estate agent’s at the end of a row of shops in Pedmore that Kim had passed hundreds of times without actually seeing it.
The woman she assumed to be Nicola Sykes stood behind the desk. She didn’t look like a natural netball player. Kim pictured anyone playing that sport as long, lean and fit. Nicola Sykes barely hit the five feet mark with a rotund shape that weighed heavily on her small frame.
‘Is it true?’ she asked as the receptionist closed the door behind them. ‘Is Ashley dead?’
Kim nodded as she took a seat, wondering at the power of the grapevine. So far, the news reports had only said the body of a woman had been found; her identity had not yet been revealed.
As Nicola Sykes sank down into her chair, the phone on the desk vibrated. It was ignored as she shook her head from side to side.
‘I just can’t believe it. It doesn’t seem real. This kind of stuff doesn’t happen here. It only happens to other people.’ Tears formed in her eyes. ‘Oh God, poor Ashley. The report said she was stabbed.’
Kim said nothing to either confirm or deny. As the degrees of separation increased, the need for detail reduced.
‘You were one of the last people to see her alive,’ Kim said by way of explaining their presence.
‘Oh God, of course. You’re wondering if we saw the mugger.’
‘She wasn’t mugged,’ Kim said, happy to share that detail.
Surprise replaced the shock on Nicola’s face.
‘This was a personal attack, Ms Sykes. It wasn’t random. Ashley was targeted.’
‘Impossible,’ she stated with finality, her expression turning determined.
