Chameleon's Shadow

‘Did he know who these people were? Did he describe them?’

‘He said they were black . . . reckon that’s why he was so frightened. He thought they were going to take his money and stab him anyway. It’s the kind of thing that type does, isn’t it?’

Jones ignored the remark. ‘Afro-Caribbean? Nigerian? Somalian?’

‘Dunno.’

‘Age?’

‘The first one was a youngster, I know that, but I’m not sure about the other. Harry guessed they’d run the scam before . . . went straight to his wallet, took out his card and said they’d report him for sex with a minor if he didn’t come up with a grand.’

‘Did he say where he met the youngster?’

The old man shook his head. ‘Probably a fare . . . he was damn wary who he let into the cab after. Do you reckon they’re the ones who killed him?’

Jones avoided the question. ‘We could have done with this information a bit earlier, Pat. Did you report it after Harry was murdered?’

‘Certainly did,’ said the old man in an affronted tone. ‘Me and Walter both. A couple of uniformed coppers took statements from everyone in here the day after Harry was found. We told them you should be looking for blacks . . . but nothing’s been done. Sometimes wonder if you lot are as afraid of them as the rest of us.’

The superintendent took a sip from his own glass. ‘You’ll have to accept my apologies on this one, Pat,’ he murmured diplomatically. ‘It seems that none of your information has got through. You have my word I’ll look into it.’

‘No need to cause a ruckus. You’ve got it now.’

Jones nodded. ‘Except I’m having a problem understanding why Harry would invite the same young black man back to his bedsit a month after he stole money from him.’

‘Who’s saying the boy was invited? Maybe him and his mate came back for a second helping.’

‘Harry’s bedsit was on the second floor of a block. He had to use an intercom to let people in and he had a spyhole in his door. We are as sure as we can be that his killer was there by invitation.’

‘Never went to his place. Didn’t know that.’

‘What about Walter? Would he invite a black man into his house after what happened to Harry?’

The old man shook his head. ‘Can’t see it.’

Jones nodded. ‘What about a young white guy? You said Walter was scared off by what happened to Harry . . . but would that have applied to all young men, irrespective of colour?’

In the absence of an answer from Pat, who seemed to flag when his long-held belief that blacks were responsible was undermined, it was Derek Hardy who spoke.

‘He brought a lad in here one time,’ he said. ‘The kid wanted a lager but I refused to serve him alcohol because he didn’t look eighteen and he didn’t have any ID on him.’ He nodded to the notice on the bar. ‘Walter was pretty annoyed about it and took him away.’

‘How long ago was this?’

‘Not sure. A couple of months?’

‘Can you give me a description of the lad?’

‘Ginger hair . . . bit of a beanpole . . . fifteen or sixteen at a guess. He may have been one of Walter’s grandchildren. They seemed pretty close and the kid was carrying a rucksack. I got the impression he’d come to London on a visit.’

*

It was arguable who was more put out when Jackson suddenly appeared at the other end of the bar and signalled to Derek Hardy – she, Jones or Beale. Certainly, none of them looked pleased to see each other. Jackson cursed herself for not recognizing their back views as she came in, and Jones cursed the fact that she was the one who’d interrupted his conversation with the landlord. He wondered how much she’d heard before they noticed her.

‘Drinking on duty, Doctor?’ he asked sarcastically.

‘I might ask you the same, Superintendent.’

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence.

Hardy glanced from one to the other with a look of curiosity on his face. ‘What can I do for you, Jacks? If it’s Mel you’re after, she said she’d be back by ten.’

Jackson glanced at the clock above the bar but seemed in two minds about what to do.

Jones, who thought of her as a decisive woman, couldn’t resist a barbed comment. ‘Would you like us to move to a table so that you can speak to this gentleman in private?’ he asked. ‘Presumably it’s something you don’t want the police to hear.’

‘You have a suspicious mind, Superintendent. You’ll draw the wrong inferences whatever I do.’

He watched her for a moment. ‘I’ll admit to being curious about where the lieutenant is. According to Dr Campbell, he’s safe as houses . . . couldn’t possibly harm anyone . . . because you never go out without him. Should I be concerned that you’re on your own?’

‘He’s in my car.’ ‘Then we don’t have a problem.’ Jones glanced at his inspector.