Clarence placed the bottle down carefully on the ground, leaned forward and studied Sam earnestly.
'Look, Danny wasn't around here long enough to make enemies. To be honest, I'm surprised anyone wanted to hurt him at all. He was a harmless type. Quiet and friendly. A little on edge, maybe...'
'On edge?'
Clarence shook his head and reached back down for the bottle, grabbing it at the second attempt. Sam could see the big man was feeling the effect of the alcohol, unsurprising as he had drunk most of it already.
'Anyway, what's your interest in Danny?'
Sam had expected the question much earlier. Perhaps Clarence had been reluctant to pry, but now his tongue had loosened.
'We were good friends years ago,' lied Sam. 'I'd like to find out what happened to him.'
Clarence went to say something but thought better of it. Instead, he downed the last of the whisky and lobbed the empty bottle into a corner. As it came to rest against the wall, Clarence smiled grimly.
'History, eh?' he mumbled, staring at the bottle. 'We've all got history.'
The words reminded Sam of his own painful past. He stood up, determined not to let that in. Anyway, it was time he left. Clarence was losing focus, and that meant he would either talk more or turn nasty. Sam wasn't going to hang around to find out which. He had learned enough for one night.
'I'm getting off now, Clarence.'
No answer. Clarence was in a world of his own, muttering to himself, staring at the empty bottle.
Sam left the building to find a snowstorm had erupted again. The fire had fizzled out, and the men congregated around it earlier were nowhere to be seen. Sam hurried across the wasteland, eager to get back home and contemplate the night's findings.
He ground to a halt yards from his car. The Capri's side window had been smashed in. Sam inched nearer the vehicle. A house brick lay on the front seat. Glass was scattered everywhere inside the car.
Sam looked back in the direction from which he had come. An eerie sensation overcame him. A feeling of being watched. Sam recalled the angry man stomping off after being humiliated. It must have been him.
Jake.
Chapter 5
Sam eased his car into the garage and switched off the engine.
'Thanks, Archie,' he said, climbing out of the Capri. 'I'll be back first thing in the morning to pick it up.'
'Not a problem,' said Archie, staring at the empty window. 'You can't leave it outside on a night like this. You'd wake up to find it full of snow.'
Both men smiled at the image. Archie looked Sam in the eye.
'Dare I ask what happened?'
Sam told him. Archie pulled a face on hearing about the altercation with Jake.
'You took a chance, didn't you? They could have turned on you like a pack of animals.'
Sam shrugged.
'Like I've said before, you don't get anywhere without-'
'Taking a risk or two,' laughed Archie. 'I know. You've told me enough times. Anyway, let's get a drink. You look like you could do with something to warm you up.'
Minutes later, the two men were settled in a corner of the adjoining pub, the Barton Arms. Sam took a welcome drink of his whisky and gazed around the sparsely-populated establishment.
'It's not often this place is empty,' he offered.
Archie screwed up his nose. He had taken over the Barton several years ago when it was little more than an empty shell, transforming the huge Victorian building into one of the most popular public houses in Newgate. As a rule, Archie was rushed off his feet running the place. Tonight, however, was different.
'Nobody wants to come out in this weather,' he pronounced, gazing forlornly at the deserted bar. 'Still, it's all part of running a boozer.'
Sam smiled. That was Archie all over. The eternal optimist. He was a small, slim man, almost sixty years old, with ginger hair and an endless abundance of energy.
'This Jake bloke...' said Archie, turning back to Sam, '...the one you reckon trashed your window. What does he look like?'
Sam described him to Archie, who nodded sagely.
'Mmmm, I thought so,' he said, scratching his hooked nose. 'That's Jake Dawkins. I worked with him for a short time before I took on this place.'
'Oh, yeah?' said Sam, aware of Archie's inexhaustible knowledge of Newgate and its residents. The landlord had worked the town's pub circuit most of his life, keeping his eyes open and his ear to the ground. 'How long ago was that?'
Archie gave it consideration.
'Must be ten years now. I haven't seen him since.'
'You've got a good memory, Archie.'
The landlord smiled thinly. It wasn't a particularly pleasant expression.
'Jake was one of those people you never forget...and not for the right reasons.'
Sam nodded sourly.
'Do you know how he came to be living on the streets?'
Archie shook his head.
'I don't know for certain, but I can make a good guess.'
'Go on...'
Archie put his drink down and sat back.
'When I came across Jake Dawkins, he was already a hopeless drunk. Apparently, his wife ran out on him years earlier. She moved abroad taking their two little kids with her. Jake never heard from them again. Word is that's when he started hitting the bottle.'
The words caught Sam off-guard, shaking him to the core. He felt that familiar jolt of pain, the same one he had experienced while talking to Clarence. Only this time, he couldn't dismiss the flashbacks so easily. Those of his own wife and daughter, beautiful and innocent, tragically killed in a car crash. He took a deep breath and gripped his glass tightly.
'Sam?' said Archie, looking at him curiously. 'Are you okay?'
Sam lifted his glass and threw the whisky down his throat.
'I'm fine,' he replied. 'You were saying...'
Archie gave him a wary look and continued.
'Not long after his wife left, the factory he worked at closed down, and Jake found himself scratching around for a job. The trouble was his drinking meant he had trouble holding one down.'
Sam could see why Jake Dawkins might be bitter at life. He found it easy to imagine such a descent into drunken oblivion.
'Where did you work together?'
Archie gave him a rueful look.
'A pub on the other side of town. The White Lion. It isn't there any more.'
Sam shook his head, bemused.
'A pub? But I thought you said Jake was-'
'A drunk? That's right. He only got the job because his cousin ran the place.'
Sam looked longingly at the bar. He had a thirst to quench.
'I get the feeling it didn't end well.'
Archie nodded and levered himself up out of his chair.
'Family loyalty only goes so far, Sam. Jake was caught helping himself to the stock once too often and given the boot. When his cousin told him to go, Jake cracked him over the head with a bottle and told him where to stick his job. That was the man all over. He didn't care about anyone or anything. Right, I'm getting us another drink.'
Watching Archie head to the bar, Sam contemplated everything he had learned today about Jake Dawkins. The drinking. The violence. The sheer anger inside the man. Did Jake deserve sympathy for his suffering? Sam considered it fleetingly. Then he recalled Jake's vicious lunge at him on the wasteland. The car window smashed to smithereens.
The dying man in the alleyway.
Had Jake murdered him?
Sam didn't have the answer yet. However, guilty or not, he couldn't muster up any sympathy for Jake.
Chapter 6
Sam woke the next morning in surprisingly good fettle considering he and Archie had indulged in a lock-in until the early hours. After showering, shaving and consuming a hearty breakfast, he peered out of his flat window. More snow had fallen overnight, leaving Newgate resembling a winter wonderland. Sam left the flat and set off on the fifteen minute walk to Archie's garage, head down, shoul
ders hunched against the light flurry of snow. After several steps, he bumped into someone.
'Hey! Watch where you're going!'
Sam looked up and grinned.
'Sorry, Alice. I wasn't looking. Happy birthday, by the way.'
Alice Brown's annoyed expression disappeared instantly.
'Hello, Sam,' she smiled, blushing a touch. 'Sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going myself. Too busy trying to get out of the cold. Are you still coming to the party tonight?'
'Wouldn't miss it for the world,' replied Sam warmly. 'It is your thirtieth, after all.'
'Don't remind me,' said Alice, rolling her large brown eyes with humour. She had her shoulder-length blonde hair tied back and a woolly grey hat perched on her head. 'We're just opening up the shop.'
Sam looked past her. Moira was climbing out of her van.
'Morning, Sam!' she called breezily. 'Is my niece checking your availability for tonight?'
Alice reddened further. Sam simply smiled. They both tolerated Moira's not-so-subtle attempts to pair them off.
Sam liked Alice a lot. She possessed the same zest for life as her aunt, with eyes that twinkled mischievously, and a warm smile that might have melted his heart under different circumstances. However, Sam wasn't ready for that yet.
'Alice, be a darling and take this in for me, would you?' asked Moira, handing her niece a box file. 'I'll be with you in a minute. I just want a word with Sam.'
Alice gave her a curious look and shrugged.
'Okay,' she replied, taking the file. 'See you tonight, Sam.'
Sam and Moira watched her disappear inside the flower shop. The two women jointly owned the business, having gone into partnership after Alice's arrival in Newgate several months ago.
'This all sounds very mysterious,' said Sam, turning to Moira.
Moira looked fit to burst.
'That man you found...'
'Yes?'
'I've found out his name. It's Danny.'
'Okay,' said Sam, remaining tight-lipped. 'How do you know that?'
Moria shuffled on the spot. Sam wasn't sure if it was excitement or the cold.
'I bumped into an old friend of mine yesterday. Gloria Banner. She works at the Salvation Army centre next to the bus station in town.'
Sam knew the place. A tired-looking building tucked away down a side street.
'Anyway, Gloria was on her lunch break so we went for a cup of tea and a chat. She happened to mention the press appeal for information about that poor man.'
Sam shook his head, struggling to see the link.
'Gloria recognised the man from his description. Apparently, she went straight to the police station and talked to them.'
'She knew him?'
Moira nodded eagerly.
'To a point. According to Gloria, he used to drop by the Salvation Army centre every now and then. She said he was a sweet young man, quiet and polite.'
The words struck a chord with Sam. Quiet and polite. Clarence had said much the same thing.
'What else did she say?'
'She didn't get the chance to say anything else. Her phone rang. They wanted her back at the centre urgently...some kind of emergency.'
'So, you had to leave it there?'
'I didn't have much choice, Sam. She might have got suspicious if I'd tagged along with her back to the Sally Army asking questions about a dead stranger.'
Sam smiled. He had asked for that.
'Moira!'
They both turned. Alice was leaning out of the doorway, beckoning her aunt inside.
'Phone call for you.'
Moira patted Sam on the arm.
'Anyway, I thought I'd pass it on. Right. I'd better go. I'll see you this evening.'
Sam watched her disappear inside the shop and considered the irony. His intention that morning had been to pay the Salvation Army a visit. It was the only establishment he knew of in Newgate that catered for the homeless and needy. A long shot but one worth trying.
Now he had something to go on when he got there.
***
It wasn't quite what Sam expected.
He had envisaged a depressing scene. A room full of glum, middle-aged men, shabbily dressed, perhaps reeking of alcohol, being served hot drinks by sympathetic volunteers. Instead, he appeared to have walked into a pensioner's tea party, and a pretty lively one at that.
The centre's main room was awash with the sound of big band music. Grey-haired couples, smartly turned out in suits and dresses, danced in the centre of the room, displaying light steps that defied their advancing years. Those not joining in sat at tables around the edges, eating and drinking, chatting amongst themselves. At the far end of the room, two ladies served drinks and sandwiches from a trestle table. Sam noticed a blackboard just inside the door. The chalked words told him he had gatecrashed a charity tea dance. He wondered how he might explain his presence here.
How to find Gloria Banner among this lot.
Suddenly, he felt a tug at his arm. An elderly lady smiled up at him. She wore a thick purple overcoat and white silk gloves, despite the room being perfectly warm. A purple beret sat proudly upon her head.
'Excuse me, dear. Do you know what time the bingo starts?'
Sam's blushes were saved when another woman appeared.
'Doris, I've already told you there's no bingo on. Now, come and sit back down.'
Sam watched Doris being escorted back to her seat. He started backtracking to the door as a gentle sixties number started up. It wasn't often Sam felt out of place, but he did here. He was a good two decades younger than anyone else in the room and beginning to attract curious looks. He decided to leave and come back another time.
Right then, the music stopped and all eyes turned towards the trestle table. A woman in a matching pink jacket and skirt addressed the room, thanking everybody for turning up, praising them for their collective effort in raising money for the less fortunate in Newgate. Then she made an announcement that caused Sam to halt on his way out the door.
'Ladies and gentlemen, can you put your hands together for the two people who have organised this event today...Gloria Banner and Betty Cartwright!'
Applause started up. Two women joined the lady at the table, both smiling bashfully as the congregation clapped them warmly.
Sam changed his mind about leaving. He didn't know which one up there was Gloria, but the odds had narrowed down considerably.
'And an extra cheer for Betty, who's celebrating her birthday today!'
Sam watched on in amusement as a vibrant chorus of 'Happy Birthday' started up. One of the women, presumably Betty, playfully wagged her finger in mock annoyance. The other woman stepped away to one side.
He had found Gloria.
Sam sidled down the edge of the room. Gloria was alone, having retreated to the sidelines to watch proceedings. She was a tall, elegant lady with blonde hair beginning to fade to grey, dressed in a pale blue skirt and white silk blouse.
'Excuse me. Are you Gloria?'
She turned to Sam.
'Yes, that's right,' she replied with a pleasant smile. 'Can I help you?'
'I hope so,' said Sam, struggling to hear himself as the sing-a-long reached a crescendo. 'Can we talk somewhere private?'
Gloria looked uncertain.
Sam produced his badge.
'I'm a private detective.'
Sam rarely admitted this while investigating a case. However, this wasn't Clarence and his drunken friends facing him down on a dark night. A different approach was required for an elderly lady who spent her time doing good deeds for charity.
'I suppose so,' she said warily, scrutinising the badge. 'There's an empty room next door. What is it about?'
The dancing and chatter resumed as Frank Sinatra began to croon from the speakers. Sam wanted to get Gloria out of here before they were interrupted.
'Danny,' he said quietly. 'The man who died-'
Gloria put a finger to her lips and nodded.
'Follow me.'
***
They were in a smaller room, dark and musty, empty apart from numerous tables and chairs stacked up against the far wall.
'Sorry to rush you out like that,' said Gloria, flicking on the overhead lights. 'I didn't want any of our elderly folk overhearing such unpleasantness.'
'That's okay,' said Sam. 'It should be me apologising for dragging you away from your party.'
Gloria gave him a serious look. Sam felt her sparkling green eyes stare right through him.
'I tell you what, Mr Carlisle,' she said with intent, folding her arms. 'Let's cut to the quick. Why are you here?'
Sam liked this woman. She was engaging yet direct.
'I'm trying to find out what happened to Danny. I've been told you knew him.'
Gloria frowned.
'Who?' she asked.
'Sorry? I don't get-'
'Who asked you to find out what happened?'
Sam was confused. Gloria studied him accusingly. Then Sam understood. He chose his words carefully.
'Someone who cared a great deal about him.'
Sam had already calculated honesty would be rewarded with the same from this woman. However, sometimes a little white lie was necessary.
Gloria's face suddenly crumpled. She withdrew a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her moist eyes.
'I'm so glad he had somebody,' she sniffed, smiling sadly. 'He always seemed so alone in the world.'
Sam nodded sympathetically.
'What can you tell me about him?'
Gloria opened her mouth to reply then thought better of it. Instead, she gave Sam a curious look.
'How do you know I knew him?'
Sam realised this was going to be anything but straightforward. Gloria Banner was as sharp as a tack.
'The police station was my starting point,' he replied, ruefully accepting more lies were unavoidable. He had little choice if he wanted to keep Moira's name out of it. 'I know a detective there. He mentioned you had offered up information about Danny.'
Gloria looked sceptical. Sam wasn't surprised. It would have been totally unethical for the police to have disclosed her testimony to him, and they definitely wouldn't have passed on her name or contact details. He had to act fast. He was losing her.
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