A Bitter Feast(41)

“Oh,” Melody broke in before Bea could answer. “So sorry. This is Bea Abbott. She’s—”

Bea spoke for herself. “I’m Vivian’s business partner and the pub’s manager. This is a terrible business, er, Mr. Booth.” Not knowing Booth’s rank had obviously put her wrong-footed, but she recovered quickly. “What can we do to assist you?”

“I understand Mr. O’Reilly left a coat?”

“Yes. It’s in my office. I’ll just fetch it.” Bea turned away briskly, as if that was all there was to it.

Booth stopped her. “Miss Abbott, I’ll need to have a word with your staff about Mr. O’Reilly’s visit—or visits—to the pub yesterday. Is there someplace I can speak with them?”

“All of them? But it’s—” She glanced at her watch. “It’s almost time for dinner service, and as I said—”

“This won’t take long, Miss Abbott.” A clear command.

“Oh, all right,” said Bea, sounding more exasperated than ungracious. “I suppose you can use the small dining room. It’s not set up yet.” She turned to lead him inside.

Melody and Doug were headed towards the kitchen with more crates.

Gemma hesitated for a moment, then glanced at Booth. He was watching her, and he gave her the slightest of nods before following Bea Abbott. Slipping her hands in her jacket pockets, Gemma trailed along a few feet behind him, as if she had nothing better to do.

As she entered the pub, Gemma looked round curiously. Booth and Bea had stepped into a small office just to the left of the door. Ahead was a small dining room, separated from a bar lounge area to the right by an inglenook fireplace. Looking through the lounge, she saw another dining area through a doorway on its far side. The burly, balding man behind the bar looked curiously back at her.

The pub was certainly an appealing place, with white-painted paneled walls offset by dark polished wood and leather furnishings, and red dhurrie carpets on the stone-flagged floors.

In the office, Bea handed Booth a long camel hair coat and said, “If you want to have a seat, I’ll just fetch everyone.”

Booth stopped her. “Before you do that, can you tell me where this coat was found?”

“Where he was sitting. There, in the corner.” Bea pointed to a leather sofa in the L-shaped nook that formed the far corner of the lounge.

“Did anyone see him leave?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Jack—he’s the bartender—or Sarah, who’s one of the waitstaff. All I know is that when I came in to close up, it was there.”

“But you knew who the coat belonged to?”

Shifting impatiently, Bea said, “Well, yes, of course.”

“You were acquainted with Mr. O’Reilly, then?”

“I—” Bea stopped and took a breath. “I’m not sure I’d say acquainted. I’d never met him before yesterday afternoon. But obviously I knew who he was.”

“From Miss Holland?”

“Well, yes, but I’d have recognized him regardless. From his books and everything. But I was surprised to see him standing in the yard yesterday afternoon.”

Surprised and not thrilled, thought Gemma, who seemed to have done a good job of fading into the woodwork. Booth, she was sure, was well aware that she was still standing in the hallway.

Feeling in one of the coat pockets, Booth pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. He nodded as he rifled through it. “National insurance. Credit cards. A photo ID but no driving license—in which case we’ll have to find out how he got here—but there’s nothing with a London address.” Shifting the coat, he retrieved a mobile phone from the other pocket. It was a sleek new iPhone, but Gemma could see that when he pressed the power button, nothing happened. Even charged, it would be pass coded. Booth shrugged. “That won’t be much help at the moment.” Frowning, he felt the rest of the coat. “There’s no room key here—”

A couple came in from the car park with their dogs, two handsome Belgian shepherds, and they all had to step back to let them pass. Bea gave them a friendly greeting, then turned back to Booth. “If you’re going to speak to the staff, it will have to be soon. I can cover the bar for Jack for a few minutes, but everyone’s going to be needed in the kitchen.”

“I’ll just step into the kitchen then,” said Booth with a smile. “And then I’ll have a word with Jack afterwards. No need to disrupt your routine more than necessary.”

“But you can’t go into the kitchen.” Bea looked as if he’d just suggested sacrilege. “They’re working and there’s no room—”

“I’ve been in a kitchen or two. I’m sure Chef Viv can put up with me for a couple of minutes.” Booth’s tone was firm. Gemma moved out of his way as he stepped round the bar and pushed through a swinging door into the kitchen.

This left Gemma standing a little awkwardly in the hallway. She was wondering where Doug and Melody had got to when Bea said, close enough to make her jump, “Can I help you with something? It’s Gemma, isn’t it? You’re staying with the Talbots?”

“Yes, that’s right. I was just waiting for Melody and my hus—”

“Thanks for all your help this morning. I didn’t have a chance to say earlier. I had to rush back to deal with the lunch service here.” Taking off her rimless glasses, Bea pinched the bridge of her nose. “It was a beastly day.” Her voice wavered at the end, and when she looked up at Gemma, her eyes were glistening.