closed?”
2 2 4 P E T E R
R O B I N S O N
“Well, she was upset, I suppose,” said Jamie, shifting awkwardly in his chair. “Why? I mean, it’s not important, is it?”
“It might be,” said Banks. “What did she say?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Gave you quite a mouthful, I heard.”
“Well, she wasn’t pleased. She might have said something about pissing on the f loor.”
“The way I hear it is that you’re not exactly God’s gift to women, and here comes this snooty bitch telling you to get down there in the toilet on your hands and knees and clean it up or she’ll piss on your f loor. How did it make you feel?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Jamie said.
“But you didn’t get angry and follow her out to give her what for?”
Jamie edged back in the chair. “What do you mean? You know I didn’t. You’ve seen me on the cameras. It was as I said. I locked up, and then I spent the next couple of hours cleaning the toilets and replacing the bulbs, sweeping up the glass.”
“I understand your help didn’t turn up on Saturday,” Banks said.
“Jill. That’s right. Said she had a cold.”
“Did you believe her?”
“Not much choice, had I?”
“Did she do that often, call in poorly?”
“Once in a while.”
A group of office workers sat at the next table and started talking loudly. “Do you mind if we had a quick word with you in the back?”
Banks asked.
Jamie seemed nervous. “Why? What do you want?”
“It’s all right,” Winsome assured him, “we’re not going to beat you up.” She glanced around at the busy pub. “It’s just more quiet and private, that’s all. We wouldn’t want the whole place to know your business.”
Reluctantly, Jamie told one of his bar staff to take charge and led them upstairs, to the room with the TV and the sofa. It was small and stuffy, but at least it was private. Banks could hear Fleetwood Mac’s “Shake Your Moneymaker” playing downstairs. “The thing is, Jamie,” he began, “we’ve been asking around, and we think you’ve F R I E N D O F T H E D E V I L
2 2 5
been getting your friends and employees to bring back contraband booze and cigarettes from France.”
“It’s not illegal anymore,” he said. “You can bring back as much as you want. We’re in Europe, you know.”
“It is illegal to sell them on licensed premises, though,” Banks said.
“Is that what’s been going on? Has it got anything to do with Hayley’s murder?”
Jamie’s jaw dropped. “What are you saying? You can’t . . .”
“Did Hayley know? Jill did. You even asked her to make a run for you. That’s why she doesn’t like working here, among other reasons.”
“But it’s . . . I mean, okay, so what if we were selling the odd bottle of lager or packet of fags? That’s no reason to go and murder someone, is it? Especially like . . . you know . . . the way . . .”
“You mean the rape?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe that wasn’t the real motive, though. Could have been done to make it look that way. On the other hand, there’s not many a man isn’t going to try the goods before he gets rid of it, is there?”
“This is sick,” Jamie said. “You’re sick.” He looked at Winsome as if he had been betrayed. “Both of you.”
“Come on, Jamie,” said Banks. “We know what’s what. Is that what happened? Hayley was going to blow the whistle on you. You had to get rid of her, so you thought you might as well have her first.”
“It’s ridiculous as well as sick,” Jamie said.
“Where are they?” Banks asked.
“What?”
“The booze and fags.”
“What booze and fags? I don’t have anything other than the legitimate stock you’ve already seen.”
“Where are you hiding it?”
“I’m telling the truth. I don’t have any.”
