by Jay Nadal
The Greys Pub didn’t resemble much of a pub from the outside. Garish green, with brown framed windows, it looked more like a house. But its grungy appearance suited the social demographics of those who went there. Mainly students, with the odd spattering of locals, attracted by its intimacy and cheap prices. Those passing, or new to the area, wouldn’t even know of its existence.
Scott and Abby pulled up alongside a police squad car. To one side of the pub were a small cul-de-sac and car park that the pub shared with nearby residents. The presence of police had attracted the odd curious passer-by, but in the main, students offered nothing more than a cursory glance before continuing their journeys.
“How does it feel to be back on the job?” Scott asked, as he stretched his shoulders back and glanced around to take in his surroundings.
“Ask me at the end of the shift,” Abby smiled.
It felt good to have Abby back. He took for granted the little things they did, like going to Munch for a quick break, or getting something to eat after a post-mortem.
“Not the best location for a first date?”
“Well, put it this way, if someone took me for a date here, it would be the first and last date.”
Scott agreed with her assessment. It appeared to be an unusual setting. He imagined most people would pick a place in the centre of town, somewhere in The Lanes, with a bright cosy atmosphere and high visibility for security.
The dusty, battered Corsa sat in one corner of the car park. Enquiries confirmed that the vehicle had been there since Sunday evening.
Scott dipped under the tape surrounding the car and peered in through dirty windows. Empty drink cartons and crisp packets filled the footwells, a spare jumper sat on the back seat, and a smart, expensive car seat was strapped into the rear. There were no signs of a struggle or to suggest that anything untoward had happened inside the vehicle.
Once the vehicle had been examined at the scene, Scott would arrange for its removal and further analysis. SOCOs would look for any biological traces like blood, semen, and hair, and clothing fibres they could use as part of the elimination process.
The pub’s interior was dark and far smaller than Scott had imagined. The low ceiling added to the claustrophobic atmosphere. Abby did her usual of scrunching up her nose and pulling her arms closer into her sides, as if imaginary germs would leap out from the seat cushions and walls. A few people propped up the bar, supping casually on their pints. The police activity added excitement to what was a quiet and boring visit to the pub. The walls were lined with an assortment of posters and pictures. To the far end was a small stage area, where local bands played most evenings.
A man with a bushy grey beard and rotund belly introduced himself as Jeff, the landlord.
“What’s going on outside?” Jeff asked.
“We’re investigating a serious incident involving the driver of a vehicle left in the car park. A green Vauxhall Corsa.” Scott held up a picture of Linda Allen that he had taken from her house. “We’re wondering if this lady was in the pub on Sunday evening? She’s the owner of the vehicle.”
Jeff scratched his eyes as he leant over the counter to examine the picture in greater detail. The corners of his lips turned down as he shook his head. “I can’t say I remember her. As you can see, we’re a small pub, and at the weekends, it’s standing room only. I don’t remember her, but that’s not to say she wasn’t here.”
“Were you serving all evening on Sunday?”
Jeff nodded. “Pretty much, apart from taking a few breaks to go for a piss.”
“Was anyone else serving?”
“Only Amber. She works a few days a week. A student at the uni. Amber was here on Sunday night. Let me give her a shout. She’s downstairs sorting out the crates.”
“That would be helpful. This lady would have been wearing a white top, a short silver skirt, and black stilettos. She may have turned a few heads dressed like that, had she come in here.”
Jeff tugged on his beard. “Maybe so, but she doesn’t ring a bell.”
A few minutes later, a short, thin girl appeared who barely looked in her teens. A ponytail of dark brown hair swayed behind her as she wiped her hands. “Can I help? Jeff said you wanted to see me.”
Scott and Abby introduced themselves, and the reason for their visit. “Did you see this lady on Sunday night?”
Amber took the photo and studied it intensely. “I’m not sure. The face looks a little familiar.”
“She was wearing a white long-sleeved top, a bright silver skirt, and black stilettos.”
Amber thought for a few moments until her memories caught up. “Yes, I remember her. She wasn’t in here for long. Maybe ten, or fifteen minutes. She sat alone by the door, kept glancing at her phone, and then looking around the pub. We tend to get people in here who dress more casually. She looked as if she was ready to go clubbing.”
“And how did she come across to you? Did she look relaxed, or nervous?”
“Nervous as fuck. One minute she was checking her phone, the next minute she was checking her appearance in her phone, and then playing with her hair, and then looking around again. That’s all she did.”
“And did anyone turn up?”
Amber hesitated for a moment, “I’m not sure to be honest. I saw her grab her phone at one point and answer it. And whilst she was on the phone she looked out of the window. Almost as if the person calling her was outside?”
The girl paused for a moment as she scratched her head and recalled the night. “I don’t know. Maybe I imagined it. But I remember her going towards the door, stepping outside and looking towards the shadow of a man. Whether that was the person she was waiting for, or whether it was one of our customers having a cheeky fag outside, I don’t know.”
“Was there anything you spotted about the person outside?” Abby asked. “White, black, tall, short, what they were wearing? Anything like that.”
Amber shook her head as her brow furrowed. “Nope. Think he was white. It was too dark, and we were too fucking busy for me to take notice. What’s happened?”
Scott reassured her she had been more than helpful and said nothing other than they were investigating a serious incident.
After thanking the barmaid and Jeff, they made their way outside and scanned the street. Scott asked Abby to get a few uniformed officers to the pub this evening to interview the regulars. “Smokers need somewhere to go; I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a few customers outside at the time Linda left.”
Abby perched on the corner of the street and peered down the road towards town. “There was no CCTV in there, and nothing out here, either. I assume that person who called her phone was the person she had a date with, but it doesn’t feel right. Look at this place Guv,” she said, waving her arms back towards the building. “It’s a tiny little grungy pub. Hardly a place you’d want to go for a first date, or even meet before going somewhere else.”
Scott didn’t have the answer. The date could have been legitimate, if not a little unorthodox, and someone else killed her later that night. But that didn’t explain why her car was still here. In fact, there were a lot of questions that Scott couldn’t find answers for.
“How about if we grab lunch? We can talk about sex.”
Abby spun on the heels and stared in confusion. “Scott, you’re a great boss, and I love you as a friend, but I think you’re pushing your luck. I’m spoken for, remember?”
Scott rolled his eyes. “You should be so lucky. I like my women with more meat. As for you, I’ve seen more meat on a chicken satay.”
Abby punched his arm in protest. “You men are all the same. So, what did you mean?” she asked as they headed back to the car.
“I mean perhaps this was nothing more than a sex game gone wrong, and the guy panicked. But what happens if he’s done this before and we’ve missed it?”
12
The hallway had as much personality as the rest of the building, with slate grey floors and dove wall
s. Polystyrene squares laid on a grid-like frame soared overhead. The commercial prints on the wall were tasteful in the dull kind of way.
“You look a bit peaky. Are you okay?” Helen asked.
Jackie stopped biting her bottom lip. She could hear her pulse banging in her ears and sweat dripped down her back. She tried to return the smile, but her lips barely twitched. She wrapped her fingers around the strap of her handbag and raced to control her rapid breathing.
“I’ve not seen a dead body before, and it’s even worse because it’s my friend. This whole place gives me the creeps. I don’t know if I can do this. What happens if I pass out? What happens if I chuck up?” Her jaws chattered, as real fear gripped with panic laced her tone.
Helen continued to offer her a sympathetic smile and rubbed her arm. “She looked very peaceful, as if she was asleep. The covering will come up to just beneath her chin. So, all you will see is her face. We don’t need to hang around; it will literally take just a few seconds. I just need you to have a look at her, so that we can be absolutely sure that it’s Linda Allen.”
Neil, the mortuary technician, broke the tense silence by opening the door and waving them through to the visitors’ room. Several chairs skirted around the perimeter, and a small table sat to one side which took Jackie’s breathe away. A small crib sat atop, which she immediately assumed was where babies were placed prior to identification. There was a softer feel to this room, which was in marked contrast to the hallway. It had a large glass plate window overlooking a secondary sterile room with hospital gurney and the silhouette of a body beneath the white shroud.
Jackie’s eyes were transfixed by the ghostly image. Helen took her by the arm and gently coaxed her towards a plate glass window. Neil stood on the other side, standing by the cadaver. Jackie gave Helen a nod, who in turn looked at Neil. He lowered the shroud.
Jackie stared at the shallow face of her friend. Helen had been right; Linda looked asleep, just as Helen had described. “Yes…that’s Linda.” She sniffed as she wiped a tear away with the back of her hand.
Further down the corridor was a small but comfortable relatives’ room. It contained a few comfy chairs, a small table with a box of tissues and a lamp. Helen had arranged for two cups of tea. She led Jackie Cartwright to it.
“Are you okay?”
Jackie nodded softly as she stared at the steaming cup. “Linda had a rough life. All she wanted was to be happy. In fact, all she dreamt about was a new life. That’s why she tried most of the normal dating websites, but never had much luck. She had the odd date here and there, but as soon as she said she had kids, it seemed to sour the atmosphere. She never saw them again.”
“Did any of them work out?”
“She said she had met a decent guy, but he was married. Isn’t that always the case? The good ones are always married, and the biggest shits.”
“Did she say much about the married man?”
Jackie shook her head. “I did ask, but she kept that one close to her chest. I dunno. I think she had a soft spot for him.”
“What sort of person was she?” Helen probed.
“Just like anyone else. Happy-go-lucky, liked a bit of fun, and tried her best to be a good mum, but there was a part of her that just wanted so much more from life. She was a bit selfish in that respect, insofar as I guess she longed to feel wanted, and she slept around a bit to get that.”
“What about the husband?”
“John Richards,” Jackie explained. “A complete tosser. He didn’t have a caring bone in his body. He was only interested in himself, his drink, and the bookies.”
Helen nodded. “And Dalca?”
Jackie’s face twisted in disgust. “He wasn’t much better. Neither of them treated her with the respect she deserved. It’s just this married fellow seem to float her boat. Typical, hey?”
“What happened there?”
Jackie appeared to ignore the question, lost in thought, as she continued. “Linda just wanted a bit of fun and sparkle in her life. She did her job, came home and looked after kids. It was always about everyone else. Her employers, her kids. It was never about her. All she wanted was someone to take the time to care for her. I guess in the end she just wanted to feel loved. Her sleeping around and jumping on these weird dating sites was her way of feeling wanted and loved.”
Helen could sympathise. It was a basic human need to feel wanted and loved. In her line of work, she had seen many examples where that desire had become distorted, leading to crimes of passion.
“What can you tell me about Richards? I remember you saying that he was Shannon’s father.”
“Richards was a nasty piece of work. He came home one night and found her in bed with another fella. Well you can imagine what happened?”
Helen nodded, but remained silent.
“He hit the roof, and just went mental. He started smashing the place up. Linda got a few cracked ribs, and the other fella just grabbed his stuff and ran out the house naked. The lover didn’t get away scot-free; Richards gave him a few slaps. But his real anger was aimed at Linda. I told her to tell your lot, but she was too scared.”
“What happened after that? Did they separate?” Helen asked.
Jackie shook her head angrily. “Did they, fuck! He’d get pissed up, then come around banging on the door all hours shouting abuse and threatening to break her legs. He said if he couldn’t have her, then nobody else could. As I said, he was a nasty piece of work.”
“And she reported this?”
“I don’t know, to be honest. I think she feared getting the police involved, because it only seemed to make Richards angrier. They lived separate lives after that. They did their own thing. Got divorced just under three years ago.”
“Who came into her life next? The married man?”
Jackie nodded.
“And she continued to see him after she met Dalca?”
“Yep.”
“And what was her relationship like with Dalca? Did things get better for her?”
Jackie gave the smallest of laughs. “Not a chance. It seemed to be history repeating itself. He didn’t kick her around or anything like that; it’s just that they didn’t get on. I guess she hoped it would be different this time, but he would much rather sit in the dark and look at porn on his computer into the early hours of the morning, than get in bed with her. I just found that really weird.”
Helen had a look of surprise etched on her face as her eyes narrowed. “Why do you say that?”
“Because he liked filthy porn, Linda said. He loved watching all the spanking, the toys, threesomes, or that type of stuff. And yet she said she was adventurous and loved all that stuff. The two things didn’t make sense to me.”
“Is that why they split up?”
Jackie’s eyes widened. “No chance. She got up the duff. Immaculate Conception or what? They weren’t even having sex that often. So, he told her to fuck off.”
“But it could have been Dalca’s?”
Jackie shrugged. “And don’t ask me who the other fella was, because I haven’t got a clue. I didn’t see him, and she never mentioned him by name. There was no way she was going to spill the beans.”
Helen’s mind spun with the information. All three of those men were likely suspects. Two exes, and a scorned married lover.
Jackie proved to be a goldmine of information, as she continued to spew more insight into Linda’s life.
“They weren’t together for long.”
“The married man?”
Jackie nodded. “Yeah. I don’t know why. But it wasn’t long after Leo came along. Linda was pretty upset about it. She kept saying that she felt used, and that he never really loved her.”
“It sounds like she had a pretty confusing and tough time in life,” remarked Helen.
Jackie agreed. “She didn’t want a lot, and she certainly didn’t deserve this.”
When Helen returned from the mortuary that afternoon, Scott was back at his desk. She recited
the salient points of her conversation with Jackie. Scott asked her to add them to the incident board as they continued to pool information.
Once again, Scott relied on his trusted notepad and pen as he jotted down the key players in this case and drew tenuous links between them all. He searched through databases and chased up names. Neither Richards nor Dalca were known to them. Jackie’s hunch had been right, Linda hadn’t involved the police when Richards assaulted her. But the married lover was still an unknown quantity.
Further checks and several hours later, Scott leant back in his chair and cracked his stiff back. Something sat uncomfortably with him. The police databases had thrown up a case that piqued his interest and raised his concerns.
It was a case that matched key characteristics of his current investigation. A rape and murder nine months ago in Cardiff.
He had done this before.
13
It was late in the evening, but Scott had already briefed Meadows on the findings of his research, as well as given him a general update on how the case was progressing.
Despite the lateness, Scott had still noticed that even without his jacket, Meadows’s shirt remained immaculate as if he’d ironed it several times during the day. Perhaps it was because Meadows hardly left his office, a gripe that annoyed Scott.
He had come across his fair share of DCIs before, and they all had their own unique management style. Some preferred to be amongst the team, supporting them and being involved in their cases. Others, like Meadows, adopted the hands-off approach, preferring to attend meetings, being seen where they needed to be seen, and delegating as much as possible. They rarely put in the long hours. For many, it was a nine-to-five job with weekends off. The perk of senior ranks.