The Next Girl(Detective Gina Harte #1)(43)

Gina walked to the window and watched as he stepped into his car and drove off. It was only morning, but she’d have sworn that it was about four in the afternoon. It was as if daylight had barely broken for days. She watched as a few heavy raindrops plopped into the large puddle gathered in the pothole in their car park.

‘Mince pie?’ Nick asked.

‘Working here is making me fat,’ she replied as she took one.

‘Nonsense. They’re good for you. They’ve got fruit in them – one of your five a day.’ He put another poster up, highlighting the number to call for reports of female genital mutilation. Gina took a bite of the pie and left him to it.

She wandered through reception and back to her office. She picked up the file of the investigation four years ago. A photo of the woman found in the river dropped onto her desk. She stared at the waxy face with the crooked nose then looked away. She and Driscoll would start by re-interviewing the staff at the Angel Arms in Cleevesford. Maybe, just maybe, someone might be able to add to her notes. She read over the dog-eared pages and spotted some names she recognised. She had originally interviewed the four members of staff that were there at the time. She remembered smarmy Samuel Avery and the other members of staff: Jeff Wall, Ally Perrins and Charlene Lynch.

She picked up the phone and pressed Wyre’s extension. ‘Can you and O’Connor track down Deborah Jenkins’ friends who played pool with her at the pub? Also, give Lynne Hastings at Avant Conservatories Limited a heads-up. Let them know we’ll be coming in tomorrow to discuss Deborah Jenkins and we’re likely to be there a while. Ask if we can use their boardroom.’ Wyre acknowledged her request and ended the call.

She finished off the rest of the mince pie and flung the case in the bin. It tasted of Christmas. All the decorations were up in the town but she didn’t feel very Christmassy yet. Mince pies were a start, but so were the drink drivers and antisocial behaviour offenders, and the general traffic through the station. Welcome to the festive season.

She placed all the case notes back in the file and grabbed her coat. The ticking of the clock in her office pierced her thoughts. They’d get down to the pub at twelve, bang on opening time. If Deborah’s abductor was someone they’d already spoken to, she was determined they wouldn’t fool them this time.





Twenty-Eight





They pulled up outside the drab village pub. The paintwork was crumbling and smashed glass had been swept against the wall. Gina stepped out and headed towards the main door, stepping over a pile of vomit as she entered. ‘Nice way to great the customers,’ she said.

Jacob dry-heaved and covered his mouth. He stopped for a moment and closed his eyes. ‘I feel like total tripe,’ he said as he followed her, avoiding looking down. He began to cough and pulled a tissue from his pocket.

‘You’ll be fine in a couple of days. Mint?’ she asked as she held out a packet of Polos, hoping that sucking on a sweet would lubricate his throat and ease his nausea.

He reached over and took one. ‘Thanks.’

A woman Gina recognised was wiping the bar down. ‘Charlene. You remember me?’

The woman put down the cloth and wiped her damp hands on her jeans. She removed her hair band and stretched her dark greasy hair into a tighter ponytail. ‘I remember. Inspector…’

‘Harte.’

‘That’s it. You were investigating that woman who went missing. The one who used to come in here. Deborah. What you here for this time?’

‘Same case. We’ve actually had a lead and we wanted to go over the statements that were given at the time. We will need to chat to yourself, Mr Avery, Mr Wall and Miss Perrins.’

‘Ally left. Ally Perrins. She and Jane had a baby two years ago. Some sort of donor thing but it all worked out in the end. As far as I know she’s a stay-at-home mum, but we don’t keep in touch. She could be anywhere and doing anything by now.’ The woman pulled out a cigarette and placed it behind her ear.

‘Are Mr Avery and Mr Wall in?’

‘Samuel’s upstairs, doing the books, he said, and Jeff’s in the cellar attending to the barrels.’ The woman placed the cigarette in her mouth. ‘I really need a ciggy. Do you want to talk to me first or shall I call one of the others?’

As Gina went to answer, Samuel Avery entered the bar and placed his grimy hands on the back of Charlene’s neck. ‘Got a smoke for your favourite landlord?’ he asked. Charlene smirked and passed him a cigarette. He looked up at the two detectives. ‘You’re a bit early for a drink. We’re not open for another ten minutes. You can see we’re still cleaning.’

‘I can tell, nearly stepped in the puke on your doorstep,’ Jacob replied.

‘I haven’t got to that yet,’ Charlene replied. ‘Do you want to go to the beer garden out the back instead?’

Jacob nodded.

‘You lot. I remember you’, Samuel said as his eyes met Gina’s. ‘You were here when Deborah disappeared.’

Samuel Avery was exactly as Gina remembered. If there was ever a case for workplace sexual harassment, he was it. She remembered how, back then, she’d spotted him ogling Ally’s bottom as she bent down to grab a tonic water from the fridge; how he always brushed against Charlene and Ally, even though Ally would never have been interested in him. She remembered that some of the customers said he got a bit hands-on when he’d had a few. He had a record of provoking husbands after he’d tried it on with their wives. It looked like Charlene didn’t mind though. She seemed to embrace his touch and reciprocate his advances. He placed his arm around her shoulder and she smiled. He still wore long shirts and skinny jeans, and his fifty-six years were showing more than the average man of that age. The smoking and drinking had aged him quickly in the few short years she’d known him. She watched as he twirled the cigarette between his bony fingers with his pale, liver-spotted hand.