The murder, p.5
The Murder, page 5
Tom bristled. Why did she have to keep checking up on him? It was she who buggered off to university and then Australia, if she was that worried she should have stuck around. He took a deep breath. “I take them when I need them.”
“That’s good. Well after today’s events you certainly won’t need them. If you think you do, read a book or something, that always sends me off. Right, I’ll leave you to it, and don’t interfere on this Denise murder thingy. You’ll get yourself worked up and probably into trouble with the police. ’Night, Dad. Love you.”
“Goodnight.”
Tom was still bristling when he cleaned his teeth. If Emily weren’t so far away, he’d have a stern word. But she was, and it wouldn’t do to fall out with her.
Sitting on the bed he stared at the drawer in his cabinet for a moment, then opened it, poured a small measure which he used to wash down the pills.
The Pub
Tom had been working for a couple of hours when Liz arrived.
“Sorry I’m late. I’ll do the bedrooms properly today, but before I do, you’ll never guess why I’m late.”
“Go on, surprise me. And as you’ve interrupted me, put the kettle on.”
As Liz prepared the tea, she told him that Harry Burnham had called and asked if she could pop in. He’d remembered something about Denise and needed to tell her. Especially since Denise’s death was now officially suspicious, and he didn’t want to waste the police’s time unnecessarily.
“I think he wanted a bit of company as much as anything else, but I went. Do you want biscuits? Don’t bother answering, I’m already doing a few. Anyway, talking about company, you could always pop down and see him. You know, when you’re not working, two birds and all that.”
“All what? How old do you think I am? Fifty-four, that’s how old. Harry is eighty-one, what on earth do you think we’d have in common?”
“In common? Loads. You’re both lonely, and don’t deny it, I know. Neither of you leave the house from one day to the next. Going to the library twice a week doesn’t count. You both like football. Ooh. Remind me to come back to that. You both have kids on the other side of the world, his are in New Zealand though. And, of course, you’re both widowers. Age doesn’t come into it.” Liz put the tray on the table and pulled out a chair. “Do you want me to tell you what he said, or are you going to be grumpy now I’ve pointed all that out?”
“I don’t get grumpy. I do offended and occasionally shocked. Never grumpy. What did he want?”
“A couple of days before she died, Harry saw Denise arguing with someone by her gate. He couldn’t hear what it was about, but Denise was wagging her finger at the man, and he kept leaning forward in an aggressive way, putting his face into hers. Apparently, Denise tried to push him away and he grabbed her wrist.”
“Blimey, that sounds promising. What am I saying? I mean, it’s good if we’re looking for suspects. You know what I mean. What did he look like?” Tom closed his laptop and took a biscuit which he dunked in his tea.
“Mr Burnham was a bit wishy-washy on that because for the best part he only saw him from the back. But he’s young. Which means anything below fifty. Short or no hair, and he was wearing a baseball cap backwards. And here comes the big clue, it was an Arsenal cap.” Liz’s eyes widened knowingly.
“And…”
“And what?”
“And, are you going to tell me you know who wears one? You said it was a big clue.”
Liz deflated. “Oh. Big as in accurate. I don’t know any Arsenal fans, I don’t think. You’ve depressed me now. I thought I was getting somewhere.”
“Sorry. But it’s a bit like saying he was wearing Skechers trainers.”
“No, it’s not. Only middle-aged people wear those trainers.” Liz looked at the latest addition to her footwear wardrobe. “I wouldn’t wear them. Do you?” She grinned at him as she took another biscuit. “But before I go and get on with upstairs, or it will never get done, what do you think we should do?”
“To follow it up? My daughter thinks we should stop interfering and should leave it to the police. You could try calling DC Connor, he said he knew he’d be talking to us.”
“But what do you think? Because I think we should carry on doing what we’re doing just in case they miss something again. If it weren’t for Sally, they’d not have known about the regular payments to Alana, whoever she is.”
“I agree. Talking about Sally, I wonder how they got on last night? I tried for hours and couldn’t find Alana Matthews. Do you think the ex knew who she was?”
“Not heard. I’ll message Sally.” Liz pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped it several times. “Oops, wrong button. I’m calling her.” Holding the phone in front of her face, she tidied her hair as though she were looking in a mirror.
“What are you doing? I—”
“Hello, Sally. Sorry, I was meant to message you. Didn’t think you’d answer.”
“I’m on my break. Be quick, I’ve only got a couple of minutes left.”
“Will do. Did DC Connor find out who Alana was last night? How did you get on by the way? He fancies you, you know. Ahh, you’re blushing again.” Liz turned the screen to face Tom. “Look, how sweet is that?”
“Liz. Don’t be… Hello, Sally.” Tom gave a wave as Liz turned the phone back.
“Hi, Tom. Behave, Liz, although I do like him. He’s taking me for a meal tomorrow. But no joy on Alana, Andy Knight didn’t know who she was. Look, I’ve got to go. We’ll speak this evening. Bye.”
“Don’t you think that’s odd,” Liz put her phone back in her pocket, “that his ex is making monthly payments to someone and has been for over a year and he’s never heard of them? I do.”
“Not really. My wife had standing order payments to three different charities I never knew about. Don’t know why she didn’t tell me. Probably thought it wasn’t important.”
“Exactly. But leaving everything you have and paying a decent sum of money out every month is.” Liz got to her feet. “This isn’t going to get a proper clean done upstairs. When I’m done, perhaps we’ll go to the pub. He’s working this lunchtime, saw him go in on the way up.”
“The pub? At lunchtime? No. Why? I’m all for poking around, but I’m not going to question someone about why they didn’t know the ins and outs of their ex’s life. No.”
“Are you ashamed to be seen with me? And we’re not going to question him, I only know him by sight, I just want to check him out. I’ll buy your dinner.”
“I have no idea what check him out means without questioning, and it’s lunch. Get those bedrooms done, I must get on.”
As Liz tutted and left the room, Tom wiped his hands on his jeans, and took a deep breath, which he held for a count of thirty. There was no way he was going into the pub, especially during the day. Disappointed in himself, he opened his laptop, but he couldn’t concentrate. Quite apart from the noise that Liz was making, he was more than a bit concerned that Liz was getting too attached to him. She never mentioned a partner. Only her mother and Gemma. Although he had found the body and therefore broken the news to Liz, why was she dragging him into investigating it? He wasn’t a bad looking bloke, he knew that, but he had a good fifteen years on Liz. Where she was firm and fit, he was soft and lazy. She liked to be out and about, he didn’t. He rapped the table in frustration. Why was he even thinking about it? His only interest in Liz was professional. In her housekeeping capacity. His smile appeared. Housekeeper! She did make him smile, he’d give her that, but that was as far as his interest went. He wondered how to put her off. No rarely worked with Liz.
“Look at you away with the fairies. You’ve finished then. Good. Grab your coat, you’ve already got your shoes on. I’ll put this away and I’ll even buy you a sandwich to go with your pint.”
“I am not having a pint in the middle of the day. I do have work to finish. Leave well alone, Liz.”
“An orange juice and a pie, then.” Liz called as she banged the door of the under-stairs cupboard shut. “Here you go.”
Tom looked up as Liz appeared in the doorway, she had one arm in her own coat, and his coat in her free hand. She launched it at him. Tom caught it and looked from the coat to Liz shaking his head. “I really can’t.”
“Can’t spare the time. Or can’t walk out of that door in daylight? I know, you know, I’m not stupid.”
“You know what?” Tom demanded.
“I know that you’ve lived here best part of a year. I don’t think you left the house at all for the first six months, did you? Anyway, I’ve been reading up on it, and—”
“Enough. You’re starting to sound like Emily. You’re wrong, both of you. I’ll come to the bloody pub with you, but I do have work to do. Thirty minutes, and I’m not hanging around if it’s busy.”
“Done.”
When they left the house, Tom’s lungs dragged in a deep draught of the cold air. He looked up the High Street towards the pub. It wasn’t as far as Harry’s had been. Minutes if he got a move on. He could do this. He shoved his sweaty hands in his pockets, and taking another deep breath, he set off. Liz linked her arm in his. He paused to look at it in amazement before shaking her off. “Get off! Are you mad? People will talk. Unnecessarily.”
Liz grinned and skipped a few steps to catch up with him. “You are ashamed of me. And what people? There’s no one about. Look around.”
That was exactly what Tom didn’t want to do. Who knew what would happen then. No, he had to keep focused. He looked back at the Swan on the sign outside the pub and set off at a steady pace, counting his strides as he went. A smiling Liz matched him step for step.
“I like a man who can get a stride on. I do hate dawdlers, don’t you?”
Tom looked at the group of men smoking outside the pub as he paused at the zebra crossing. “I hate busy pubs, that’s what I hate. If it’s busy, I’m going home.”
“It’s Friday lunchtime, there will be a few in I expect, but it’s lunchtime and not on a Sunday, so it won’t be jammed, I doubt. Can’t say for sure, I don’t drink during the day either.”
Tom knew she’d turned to look at him, probably wanting confirmation he didn’t hit the bottle during the day. He didn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell her that, she was getting far too familiar for his liking. A joke and a bit of teasing was one thing, but she’d started to interfere in his private life. Not acceptable. Pulling back his shoulders, he marched across the crossing. The four men looked up as he headed their way.
“Excuse me, gents. Coming through.”
Tom nodded and smiled a greeting as he walked through the middle of them and pushed the door open. The brass of the handle felt cool against his palm, and his smile returned as he looked around the bar. It was a proper pub. Not a themed bar, not a restaurant pretending to be a pub, but a proper pub. There was a dart board, a pool table, and a door next to the gents’ which told of a snug beyond. It had been over ten years since he’d been in a pub and that hadn’t been a proper one. As a bonus, there were also only about half a dozen people in there. His smile was almost a grin as he stepped up to the bar and looked around at Liz as the barman asked what he could get him.
“What do you want?”
“Lime cordial and soda water. Lots of ice and a slice of lemon. They don’t do lime. I said I’d pay.”
Tom’s look told her she was doing no such thing, and he turned back to the barman. “And a half of… what ale do you recommend?”
“Strangled Badger. It’s a new one. On draft, lovely woody flavour.”
“A Strangled Badger? Dear me, go on then, I’m feeling adventurous.” Liz climbed on the bar stool next to him and he looked at her. “What are you doing? There are a dozen empty tables in here.”
“I know that, but I like sitting at the bar.” Liz made a face as her eyes darted along the bar where Tom’s beer was being pulled. “Pull up a stool.” She lifted two menus out of a box to her right. “Looks like they have quite a choice, my treat, because you did my tea last night.”
“Dinner. It was gone seven, we didn’t have cucumber sandwiches, cakes, or tea. We had wine, it was dinner. But thank you.”
“Well, where I come from, which is a couple of hundred yards away, we had breakfast first thing, dinner in the middle of the day, and tea when the news was on. If we were lucky and or still hungry, we had supper before we went to bed.” She grinned at him as she pointed to a glass cabinet at the end of the bar. “Those pies look nice. Mr Burnham was telling me he had a lamb and mint one the other day and it was delicious. The baker on Church Road makes them.”
“That does sound good.” Tom scanned the menu as the drinks were placed in front of them.
“That’s what I’m going to have. And a lamb and mint pie for me, and for the lady…” He looked at Liz.
“I’ll have the same. But can I have a bowl of chips as well, please?”
“You can have whatever you like, darling.” Andy Knight smiled at her as his finger jabbed at the highly coloured tabs on the till. “I’ll get the pies out once the chips have arrived. Anything else?”
Tom had a quick argument with Liz, who gave in and said she’d pay next time, before handing a note to the barman.
“Blimey, that’s cash three times in a row. Unheard of. Not seen you in here before, are you visiting?”
“No, I live up the road in one of the bungalows. Why is cash unheard of? People don’t buy drinks on cards do they?”
“Of course they do. I don’t think anyone under fifty carries cash anymore. My nephew reckons it’s so they can keep tabs on us all the time. Where we go, what we spend, you know, Big Brother’s watching and all that. Cash will become a thing of the past. In town, there’s a load of places that won’t even take it. Started with Covid, of course, and they’ve never gone back.” Knight handed Tom his change.
The Covid pandemic had brought mixed blessings for Tom. If you could put the devastation caused to just about everything to one side, everyone and his mother had started doing home deliveries and that had stuck around too. You had to stay in, you would be breaking the law if you ventured out without good reason, so that all suited him fine. But Emily had been planning on coming over for a visit and that all went by the way. Tom fancied himself as a modern man, but he wasn’t sure he liked the demise of cash. Even though he rarely spent any, he always kept at least fifty pounds in his wallet. “What if they only want a packet of crisps?”
“Card.”
“What must their statement look like? Just a string of minor numbers. Well I never.” Tom shook his head and looked at Liz who shrugged and showed him her phone case and how it contained little pockets, each one containing a card. “You too?”
“Habit now. Great in the summer, no carrying purses about. When I leave the house, all I need are keys, and my phone which has the cards. I can carry them if I haven’t got a handy pocket. Easy.” Liz turned her attention to Knight. “Condolences, by the way. I know you weren’t together anymore, but I liked Denise, it must have been a shock.”
“It was. Horrible. Like you say, been a while since we split, but I’ll still go to the funeral. Pay my last respects.”
“Funeral? Has that been arranged? I’d not heard anything about that. Who’s organising it? I thought the police were struggling to find any family?”
Tom swigged his beer. Liz was being too forthright, he’d leave her to it.
“I meant when there’s a funeral. Better serve that lot.” The smokers had returned and were standing by the pie cabinet. Knight asked what they wanted as he turned away.
“He avoided the question,” Liz whispered. “Did you notice that?”
“Not really.”
“I said the police were struggling to find any family and he didn’t say she’s got a nephew or a great aunt or whatever, just ignored it.”
“I don’t think so. You didn’t phrase it like a question, more a statement of fact.”
A young girl in a striped apron appeared behind the bar carrying a bowl of chips and two sets of cutlery wrapped in napkins. “Are these for you?” She placed them on the bar as Tom nodded his thanks. “I’ll get your pies.”
“I’ll have another go in a minute,” Liz decided as she popped a chip into her mouth.
They ate in silence, only pausing to agree with Harry Burnham’s opinion, that the pies were indeed delicious. As she placed her knife and fork down, Liz glanced at Tom’s glass and waved to Knight.
“Another half of Strangled Badger, please.”
Andy nodded and lifted a clean glass down.
Tom nudged Liz. “I didn’t want any more. I told you that. Why didn’t you get yourself one?”
“I’ve got too much left. You’re nearly finished. I want another word.” She looked at Knight as he brought the drink to them, and she handed him her card. “Have one yourself.”
“Thanks, I’m on double whiskey.” He grinned and winked. “Just kidding. Ta very much. I’ll put it in the book for when I’ve finished.” Handing her back her card, he pulled a notebook from under the bar. They watched as he turned to a page with his name underlined at the top and wrote down the amount for half a pint of Strangled Badger. He seemed to have had quite a few drinks purchased for him the day before.
“You’re popular.” Liz tapped the list. “You must be drunk most days.”
“I wish. I have a couple when I’ve finished, but mostly I take the cash. Everyone needs more money.”
“Agreed. I see you around quite a bit. You will let me know when Denise’s funeral is, won’t you?”
Knight thought Liz was interested in him, and nodding, he leaned on the bar, effectively putting his back to Tom. “I see you about too. Running here and there, you’re certainly fit.” He looked pointedly at her chest.
