'Hey everyone! How fantastic to see you all at this live Case Report recording, my lovelies,' Erica Scott said, blowing a kiss to the audience as she sat on a metal-framed chair on the stage beside her co host, Donna. 'We're here, of course, for our first ever live show at the Crime Convention - and we've got an amazing live show for you tonight - telling a story of a sensational case you've all been waiting for. A tale of greed, madness and twisted obsession.'

The audience of true crime fans clapped in eager anticipation as the spotlights turned on the hosts. Erica looked at the rows of fans and smiled. Most of them young women, but there were a few men - she always wondered about those. An elderly couple sat in the second row from the front, clapping politely, out of place in dowdy, conservative clothes. 

'And how appropriate that we present this case today?' Donna grinned. Erica grinned back. 'Erica, did you know that today is the anniversary of the day on which Javier Castella killed his first bull?'

'No, I did not!' Erica said. But she did. They had practiced this talk extensively.

'Yes, the 14th of February. It's also the day on which today's killer killed his 1500th bull.' Donna smiled.
Erica's cousin had a reputation for knowing these irrelevant facts. 'And it is also the day on which he and one of his mistresses began a torrid affair. A fateful decision, which ultimately cost him his life. He lived as he died. By one of his own bullfighting tools, brandished by none other than the former Conservative MP, Eloise Skerrett.'

'Yes, prepare yourselves, because tonight, we present the violent life and even more violent death of one of Spain’s most celebrated matadors, who also happened to be the country's most notorious drug dealer. It is of course, the story of Javier Castella,' Erica grinned to wild applause. She settled back in her seat, ignoring the nagging anxiety in the back of her mind, and began enjoying the show.

'Javier Castella was born in Medinaceli,' Erica said. 'Medinaceli is a small but forgotten village in the north of Spain. It is known for its picturesque surroundings and its historical castles. But this place has achieved national, and indeed, international notoriety for a rather different reason. The yearly event, El Toro Jubilo - otherwise known as 'the fire bull festival.'' She took a deep breath, and went on cheerfully, 'Which of course made it the perfect place for Castella to grow up!'

Erica smiled and flicked her straight black hair away from her face. 'His parents ran a small pig farm just outside Medinaceli. He had one brother and three sisters, and at the age of three, his parents divorced after years of arguments. Javier was the youngest, and the family were poor. His other siblings were abused and neglected - especially the girls. Teachers at the local school were concerned enough to contact social services on several occasions. But Javier had everything he wanted. Unlike the others, he was always spoiled, and seen as the perfect child.' She paused dramatically. 'Even though, from an early age, it was alarmingly clear that Javier Castella...was not the perfect child.'

'Yep,' Donna said. 'Something was wrong with this boy. Very wrong indeed.'

*

'How was the show?' Erica's boyfriend Wayne had texted her during her talk. 'Hope it was worth missing Valentine's Day for.' Why was he so vexed about that, Erica wondered? He had never cared much about Valentine's Day before. Maybe she was reading too much into it. Being paranoid. It wasn't the first time. Besides, the show had been scheduled for months. They'd promised each other a Valentine's Day celebration when they were back. She didn't really want to. Increasingly it felt to her like Wayne was like a comfy old slipper that was starting to wear out and fray at the edges.

'It went well,' Erica replied. 'I'm missing you.' From time to time, Erica checked her messages as she stood in the long, slow moving queue for the hotel's bar. At the back of the queue she spotted one of last year's guests, Carly Hill. She'd seen her in the lobby earlier, selling her new memoir. Carly gave a tight smile, which Erica returned warmly, then turned away. Carly was desperate to come on the show again, but she and Donna wouldn't be asking her again. For reasons.

This evening, Erica didn't need that conversation.

'Erica?' said a voice behind her. Her stomach squirmed as she recognised the tall, thin man in jeans and a t shirt.

'Oh,' she said. 'Hey, Jon.'

'It's been a while,' Jon said. 'I loved your show.'

'Thanks. Yeah, I'm good,' Erica said, feeling the familiar ache when she looked into his eyes. The pang that made her wish things hadn't gone so wrong.

'Are you here the whole week,' Jon said.

'I wish,' Erica said, keeping her voice light. 'Just until tomorrow, then I'm going.'

'I'm doing a talk tomorrow about my new book,' Jon said. 'Come along if you like.'

'The Jack the Ripper one?' Erica said. She did want to go. But spend too much time with him and who knows where it would lead. 'Yeah - that looks good. I'll check it out.'

'Yeah, that one,' Jon said. The queue inched forward. Across the room, Erica saw Donna staring at her with a look of shock and rage on her face. Feeling a momentary pang, Erica told herself she couldn't let her cousin's moods get to her. As her therapist had said, it wasn't her responsibility. Was it?

She heard Jon's voice in her ear. 'Let me get you a drink, at least.'

Erica and Jon chose a table in the corner. She sat across from him on a backless chair which kept her alert, rather than next to him. That would be dangerous. Her phone vibrated; she ignored it.

'Erica?' a woman said from behind her, just as she was about to ask Jon about his life. Feeling mildly annoyed, Erica turned round quickly. The woman looked familiar. They'd met before, but Erica couldn't place her; mid fifties maybe, her hair flecked with grey. Jon stood up and muttered something about going to the bar.

'Fascinating talk this evening.' There was an edge to the woman's voice as she smiled, showing her teeth.

'Thank you,' Erica beamed. Recognition was both one of the worst and one of the best things about events like this. 'I had to do a lot of research. But it's actually one of my favourites. Such a crazy story, isn't it?'

'I can see that,' the woman said, grinning in a fixed way that Erica thought was disconcerting. Her eyes didn't leave her. Her clothes were clean but there was an air of dishevellment about her; her hair was clean but messy and hung around her face tattily. 'I wanted to ask you something, if I may.'

'Go on,' Erica said indulgently. It came out more patronising than she intended. Something told her that this lady was a talker. Someone to whom she would have to smile and listen to politely but would find it hard to shake off.

'What makes you think you're better than Javier Castella?' The woman's voice hardened. 'What gives you the right to the moral high ground? You're making entertainment out of death and violence, like he did when he killed those bulls. You're making money out of people's tragedies. Isn't that exactly what Castella did when he got people hooked on Class A drugs?'

'Umm,' Erica said. This was not what she had been expecting and she struggled to form a response. Intellectually she knew this comparison was wrong, but on the spot couldn't say why. 'Because...well. Javier Castella was a psychopath. I'd never hurt animals like he did, let alone a human!' 

'You might as well have.' The woman stared at her with eyes full of contempt. 'Exactly what I thought. All about the content with your type. You should be ashamed of yourself.' Her hand clenched around Erica's cocktail glass, poised to tip it into her lap. Then she replaced it on the table and stalked off across the crowded lobby, fists clenched.

Jon chose that moment to return. He glanced over his shoulder. 'Who was that? Are you all right, E?'
'A disgruntled listener. You can't please everyone in my line of work.' Erica scoffed as she sipped her cocktail. 'So, Mr Ripperologist. Tell me what's been going on with you.'

'I have a girlfriend,' Jon said, his eyes like deep brown pools. He took a breath and gave a wry smile. 'She doesn't know. About us.'

'Probably for the best,' Erica smiled, taking a big sip from the cocktail glass. Her fingers lightly brushed Jon's. She finished the cocktail and smiled. Turning around, she saw the woman glaring at her. The corners of Erica's mouth twitched up in a smirk.

'Well, I ought to go. Early start tomorrow,' Erica said. Spending any more time with Jon was dangerous, he had a way of getting under her skin. She stood up.

'See you tomorrow, sweetness,' Jon said, his face close to hers. She had a busy day tomorrow. Going to Jon's talk was a bad idea, of course it was, but they both knew she'd end up going, and after that - well.
It was a dangerous idea for so many reasons. But now he was here she doubted she could stop herself.

'Maybe.' Erica smiled and put her glass down. She walked out of the hotel bar towards the lift. Music from the 'criminally good afterparty' floated into her ears. Before stepping into the lift she turned around to give Jon another smile. He had gone. In his place were a man and a woman who looked like they were there as a couple, plus a younger man. She recognised the woman in an instant, although in all the pictures she had seen she was dressed in the grey blue of the Policia Nacional rather than the burgundy figure hugging dress she had on now.

Rita Silvera, the Spanish detective.

In true-crime circles, she was legendary; she was Javier Castella's sister in law. She'd almost been Henry Dixon's last victim. She had never replied to any invitations to appear on Case Report. Maybe she was too busy - or too stuck up. Erica considered walking over to greet her.

But then she stole a glance at the two men on Rita's table. Erica's stomach clenched; she wanted to throw up. Numb with shock and nausea, she stared. Was she imagining things?

That man shouldn't be there. He wasn't allowed to be there.

She slid into the elevator, her heart pounding. Her hand pounded the button for her floor, but the door was slow to close and Erica felt herself shrinking into the corner, as if she was possessed by something outside herself. Get a grip, she tried to tell herself. It didn't work.

The court said he wasn't allowed to come anywhere near her.

So why the hell did they let him come here? And why was he hanging out with Rita Silvera of all people?

Erica tore her eyes away, snuck one more glance at Jon and gave him a little wave. Let it wash over you, she thought. Just enjoy the conference for what it is.

Make the best of it.