The Next Girl: A gripping thriller with a heart-stopping twist

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.

‘The garden sounds good. We’ll have a smoke and a chat there,’ Charlene said.

Samuel grabbed Charlene’s cigarettes from her pocket and held them out. ‘Smoke?’

Jacob and Gina shook their heads. ‘We’d like to talk to Charlene first – alone,’ Jacob said.

‘I see. I suppose I’ll stay here then and wait my turn,’ he said as he grabbed a paper and sat on a stool at the bar.

Gina followed Charlene to the garden, which was an extension of the car park. Empty glasses, bottles and overfilled ashtrays covered the benches on the dirty patio. The cellar flap opened and a gaunt man popped his head up. He rubbed his hands together as he climbed to the top of the steps. He flinched and rubbed his neck, nodding at the three of them as he leaned down to lift a barrel. ‘Jeff,’ Gina called. ‘Jeff Wall.’

He nodded and smiled with an open mouth. Gina noticed that he had a chipped front tooth.

‘You do remember me, don’t you?’

The man shook his head as he balanced the barrel on his shoulder.

‘DI Harte. The detective investigating the Deborah Jenkins case a few years ago. Don’t go anywhere, we’re speaking to everyone.’

The man ran his fingers through his hair and smiled. ‘Sure thing. I’ve just got to get the empties out ready for collection,’ he replied as he continued into the pub.

Gina turned back to Charlene. ‘Right, down to business. Just to recap your statement, you stated back then that Deborah Jenkins was a regular on Wednesday nights. She was a member of the women’s pool team and had been for two years.’ Jacob took out his notebook and marked it with the date. He blew his nose and wiped his eyes. Charlene leaned away from him, took her cigarette from behind her ear and lit it. She drew in the nicotine and blew the smoke out slowly. Jacob coughed. Gina watched as the lines on the side of Charlene’s mouth became more prominent as she sucked on the cigarette.

‘That’s right. From what I can remember, she wasn’t very good at it, but she was friends with Lottie. Now that’s a woman who is shit-hot with a cue. The girls all still have a remembrance once a year for Debbie.’

‘Can you tell me about the last time you saw her again?’

‘Now you’re expecting a lot. It was ages ago.’

‘Try your best.’

‘From what I can recall, it was the week before she went missing. The team plays on Wednesdays so it had to be that day. We’d lost at home to the Spinster and Black Cat. The atmosphere, from what I remember, was a bit sombre, as they were bottom of the league and then, after that game, we were. That’s the only time we’ve been bottom of the league. We should’ve beat them.’

‘Did you play?’ Jacob asked.

‘No, I don’t do sport. When I say we, I mean us at the Angel. I still wanted them to win. Anyway, the Spinster lot all went on their merry way with an unexpected victory to their name and we sat there drinking for a couple of hours. I remember drinking tequila shots after my shift that night and was sick as a dog in the night – never again. Deborah always got a taxi home with Lottie—’

‘By Lottie, do you mean Charlotte?’

‘Yeah, Charlotte Livingston. She did live a few doors down from Debbie but I know she moved to the outskirts of the village. Her hubby got a promotion, they got a bigger house with apple trees and a gated drive. Alright for some. My husband did one seventeen years ago when my youngest was born. He’s a little git now, like his father.’ Charlene took another drag of her cigarette.

‘Can we get back to that night in question please, Charlene?’ Gina asked.

‘Well, we’d all had a few, to commiserate, you know. Samuel gave ’em all a drink on the house and joined them for the last couple while we went through the strategy of play, trying to dissect where it all went wrong. I’ve told you all this before.’ The woman finished her cigarette, dropped it to the floor and stood on it. Gina couldn’t understand why she did that, as she was ultimately the one who had to clean it up.

‘You said in your statement that Deborah slapped Samuel on the arm.’

‘Yes. I couldn’t hear what was being said but she did slap him on the arm. I think it was playful. I call him spaghetti hands, they’re always winding their way around some woman. She was having none of it though. Debbie was a good girl, not one for a fling. Lottie, on the other hand, was an outrageous flirt. Never went home with ’em though. We thought Samuel was getting a bit too big for his boots with her and was probably going to have to face another angry husband. But it wasn’t as if he was going to pounce on any of ’em, and they always came back.’

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