RED SKATE CHAPTER SIX

I stood in the doorway, flabbergasted! My best friend was sprawled on the floor, watching what looked to be "CSI" on the TV. She had a bottle of vodka on the floor, which was nearly empty , and two packets of chocolate digestives. I watched her take out three biscuits and eat them in one swoop!
"Cathy!" I exclaimed.
She turned her head. "Oh, hi, Sally," she smiled. "I'm catching up on "CSI" I've missed this week, and finishinmg these biscuits and this vodka I've been meaning to finish for ages."
I stared at her. "Cathy, it's like walking into a drunk's house, and how come your front door wasn't locked, it's always locked!"
"I decided to not lock it for a change. Anyway, not everything has to be the same all the time."
"It does where work is concerned," I said. "We're working on a case together, Cathy. And we were supposed to pick up the DNA results today."
Cathy's eyes flew open. "Oh shit!" She said. "Let me just get cleaned up."
I waited for ten minutes while Cathy put the biscuits and vodka back in the kitchen and dressed into her work clothes. And even then, Cathy fussed til she'd put on tape this week's "CSI" episode.

When we arrived at the lab, Brad was waiting for us with the incriminating jacket.
"Sorry to disappoint you girls. But this blood doesn't match Julia Entwistle. It matches someone I don't even know."
"That means he was telling the truth!" I said. "I'll have to apologise when I give the jacket back."
"What happens when he comes for his interview?" said Cathy.
"He's off the hook," I replied. "We don't ned him anymore."
"Yeah, but, remember he knew about the murder before it was on the news? Well, maybe he was a witness!"
"Oh. Thanks, Cathy. That's a good point. We'll still need to ask him questions then, in case he was at the ice rink that night."
"ERIKKSON!"
Max Peterson came strolling into the lab. "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU TO STOP GASSING AND GET ON WITH YOUR WORK!!"
"That's enough, Peterson," I said. "He wasn't gassing. He was passing on a jacket that he'd tested for us."
"That's okay, then." Max turned and pompously left.
"One of these days," said Brad. "One of these days, I'll do something bad to him."

That night, I came home from work, planning to relax in a bubble-bathed bath, with a bowl of strawberries, and the new novel, "The Devil Wears Prada".
As I got in, I went straight for the kitchen to heat up a lasagne. I put the lasagne in the microwave and set the timer to twenty minutes. As the meal was turning, the phone rang.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Hello, Sally?" It was Charlie's voice. "Hello. We have a bit of a situation down here. Can you get here as fast as you can."
"Okay, be right there."
When I put the phone down, I cancelled the microwave, and, grabbing my keys, I headed out the door.
When I got to the lab, I saw about twenty investigators all standing in a ring. A man wearing a long brown coat and long straggly, greasy hair was standing in the midddle of the ring, brandishing a beer bottle. At first, I mistook him for a tramp, but then I recognised him as Mr Entwistle, the father of the murdered girl...

What does Mr Entwistle want? Find out in Chapter Seven...