58
The Bacchus was on High Bridge in Grainger Town; a narrow cobbled street that ran between Grey Street and Pilgrim Street. It was very close to the police station, which is why Daniels had chosen it. She rarely drank in the pub herself but it was Gormley’s second home. They could be back in the incident room in minutes if need be.
Adele’s voice floated in the air as he held the door open for her.
Inside, four men were propping up the bar. Another stood waiting to be served. The young man pulling his pint looked shagged out, a growth of designer stubble on his chin, hair thick with gel. Like any good barman, he clocked the detectives the minute they appeared in the doorway.
‘Bit early for you, isn’t it?’ he said to Gormley as they approached.
‘Funeral,’ was all Gormley managed in return.
The barman raised an eyebrow. ‘Anyone I know?’
Gormley shook his head. ‘Daughter of a polis killed in the A1 crash last week.’
‘Grim. Want the usual or a short?’
‘A half, and pour yourself one, Justin. Second thoughts, make mine a pint.’ Gormley turned to Daniels. ‘My shout, boss. What can I get you?’
Daniels scanned the optics. ‘Famous Grouse. Straight, no ice.’
Froth from the John Smith’s spilled over the glass and pooled on the bar as the lad set it down. Gormley paid up and then followed Daniels across the worn wooden floor to a quiet table in the corner of the room. As she sat down, she glanced back towards the bar.
‘Justin a new friend of yours?’ she asked.
‘Wife’s nephew.’ Gormley took a long pull on his pint and wiped a wet hand on his jacket. ‘He’s harmless. Bit of a barrack-room psychologist, mind you. You know the type. Thinks he can solve everyone’s problems across the bar. Jumps to conclusions too. You’ll be the scarlet harlot by the time I get home.’
Daniels smiled at his attempt to lift her mood. It was a difficult task with multiple enquiries weighing her down. The Ralph Street enquiry had stalled. Naylor wasn’t happy because headquarters were breathing down his neck for a result. Letting out a big sigh, she asked Gormley for his take on it, knowing full well what his answer would be.
He didn’t disappoint.
‘It’s a dog’s breakfast, if you ask me.’ He pointed out the obvious, that they had begun the investigation with four possibilities: random kids’ prank gone wrong . . . right house, wrong person . . . right house, right person . . . wrong house entirely. ‘As far as I can see, that remains where we’re at.’
He had a point. The investigation was going nowhere, and scratching around for leads was frustrating the hell out of both of them. Mark Reid’s mystery girlfriend still hadn’t materialized and Daniels was asking herself why. The identity of the woman was vital. They needed to rule her in or out. But all efforts to trace her had failed. According to her service provider, her phone had gone silent since Gormley tried to contact her.
‘We’re missing something, Hank. Why has Reid’s girlfriend not come forward? She’s bound to have seen reports of the fire by now.’
‘Not necessarily. Maybe she didn’t recognize the address, didn’t connect the two.’
‘That’s always a possibility.’
‘He was supposed to be babysitting Jamie at his own house, don’t forget. She might’ve rung late that night because she was going away for the weekend. If she’s out of town, she could be completely unaware. It does happen.’
Daniels wasn’t convinced and told Gormley why. She’d been going over and over Judy’s phone call the whole way through the funeral. There was no mention of a trip when she called him, no ‘miss you’ message. If she was on the level, why were there no clues to her identity in his flat? They had found nothing written down, no photos, no personal mementos or keepsakes. They had no evidence tying her to him, just a wardrobe full of clothes, if indeed they were hers . . .
‘You don’t think that’s odd? Because I do,’ she said.
Draining his pint, Gormley set the empty glass down on the table. He had something on his mind. Something he was reluctant to part with.
‘What?’ Daniels queried.
Gormley shrugged it off. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said.
‘Yes, it does. You got something to say, I want to hear it.’
‘I think it’s too early to judge her, that’s all. She could be completely innocent. She and Reid might have legitimate reasons for keeping their relationship secret. I’m not having a dig, but you of all people would know about that.’ He met her gaze across the table. ‘I’m making a pig’s ear of this. What I’m trying to say is, it’s not only the guilty who have things to hide.’
He meant no offence and none was taken. He knew all about her ‘baggage’ and was cool with it. She was pleased. It made it easier to talk to him. Besides, she knew exactly what he was getting at. But she wasn’t buying it. Even if she was dealing with a clandestine relationship, she’d have expected to find stuff belonging to Judy in Reid’s flat. So far she’d found zilch. There was still no clue to Judy’s identity – except a uniform – assuming she was the same woman Reid’s mates had seen him with – and they had no proof of that either.
‘Maybe they didn’t want to go public until his divorce went through,’ Gormley suggested. ‘I know a guy whose ex screwed him rotten because of a new squeeze, insisted on having her salary taken into account when the civil courts were working out alimony payments. You said yourself the clothes in his wardrobe were top notch. For all we know, she may have been a high earner too.’
‘That’s plausible . . .’
‘So what’s bothering you?’
‘There wasn’t even a toothbrush of hers there.’
‘No DNA, you mean?’
‘That too. But people in love send each other daft things, don’t they? My relationship with Jo may not have been common knowledge, but I’ve got loads of that sort of thing at home. Books, letters, cards she sent me when we were together, all of them signed. Suffice to say, there’s plenty there to lead a clued-up detective to her if they looked hard enough. See what I’m saying?’
Gormley shrugged, his eyes darting to his nephew then settling on Daniels.
‘Maybe she wasn’t that important to him,’ he said. ‘Maybe he still had the hots for his wife and was waiting to see how the land lay before getting too involved with anyone else.’
Gormley could identify with that. His own marital problems had begun many years ago when he was conducting enquiries away from home. He’d been unfaithful to his wife and got caught, quite literally with his pants down, when she turned up unexpectedly to tell him she was pregnant. The hooker he was with hadn’t batted an eyelid, just picked up her clobber and left the room. His wife had never really got past it.
That didn’t mean he loved her any less.
Daniels wanted to reach out and hug him, support him like he’d supported her. If he could turn back the clock, she knew he would. But was the same true of Mark Reid, she wondered? It would certainly explain the photograph of Maggie they’d found in his flat. Had he strayed while his wife was pregnant only to regret his indiscretion afterwards? Had Judy got wind of it and taken drastic action to get rid of the competition?
The voice message again. Hi, babe. Tried your mobile. Assume it’s on charge. Hope I haven’t woken Jamie. If you get this message, call me.
Suddenly, a thought occurred that really wound Daniels up. Not quite a Eureka moment, but enough to get her excited.