George had predicted that Roy would be affable, at least at the start, so his hostile demeanor when they entered the kitchen worried her. She wasn't much of a psychologist, she realized, as she glanced at the CCTV monitor showing the bar. Forewarned was forearmed, and a man like Roy would always favor attack as the best form of defense. As usual, the second monitor was dead, and, not for the first time, she wondered why he needed two. Jonathan reacted to the animosity immediately, jutting his jaw and clenching his fists at his sides, instinctively bracing himself for assault. It was reminiscent of their first meeting but this time there was no coerced apology from Roy to oil the water.
The man was facing the door, bottom propped on the table, a beer mug in his right hand which he was carelessly wiping with a tea towel. But he held it by its handle, as if polishing were not the aim of the exercise. He appeared very relaxed and, owing to where he'd stationed himself, George and Jonathan were unable to move out of the doorway into the room. They were too close together and it put them at a disadvantage, not least because it made them look comical.
Roy grinned. 'Well, well, well ... if it isn't the Odd Couple. What can I do for you?'
'We wanted a chat,' said George lightly.
He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. 'It's not a good time. If you come back tomorrow morning, I'll see what I can do.' He shifted his attention to Jonathan. 'Not you, mate, you're barred.' His eyes narrowed threateningly. 'I don't like people who accuse me of lying, and I sure as hell don't want them in my pub.'
'Jon never-' George began.
'Let him speak for himself,' Roy cut in. 'He's got a tongue, hasn't he? Or is he too scared to use it?'
Jonathan didn't say anything.
'That figures. I sussed you as a wimp the first time I saw you.' He pushed himself upright and took a step forward. 'End of conversation. Now sling your hook before I phone the cops and have you arrested for causing a nuisance.'
George was the first to retreat. 'Come on,' she said, plucking at Jonathan's jacket. 'He's within his rights, unfortunately. A licensee can exclude anyone he wants from his premises and he doesn't have to give a reason for doing it.'
But for the first time in his life, Jonathan stood his ground. 'Then I'll have to change his mind.'
Roy dropped his right hand and took another step forward, holding the glass at his side. 'And how are you planning to do that?'
'Not by fighting you,' said Jonathan mildly, relaxing his clenched fists. 'In the first place I'm not armed and in the second place it would give you an even better excuse to exclude me.' He indicated the courtyard. 'There's a black BMW parked in the road, registration number R848 OXR. It was there when I met George-I saw it when I left-and again in the evening when Andrew Spicer drove me back here to collect my wallet. Is it yours, Mr. Trent?'
'None of your business.'
'Do you know what car he drives, George?'
She frowned, remembering a reference to a BMW but unable to recall why. 'As far as I know, it's a van. He keeps it in a garage at the back.'
'The ticket clerk at Branksome Station said the woman who went through my briefcase drove away in a black BMW. I think it's your ex-wife's car, Mr. Trent. She said she'd seen me here and knew who I was, and she was certainly here when my agent came for my wallet.' He glanced toward the stairs. 'Is she upstairs now? If so, we'd like to talk her.'
Roy raised his left palm and shoved it against Jonathan's chest. 'Out!' he ordered. 'Now! Go on! Piss off, the pair of you!'
Jonathan backed away immediately. 'There's no need for violence, Mr. Trent.' He raised his voice. 'Tell Priscilla Fletcher we'll wait by her car till she comes out. We'd like to ask her about Cill Trevelyan's gang rape by Roy Trent, Colley Hurst and Micky Hopkinson.'
'Keep your voice down,' Roy snarled. 'There's customers can hear you.'
Jonathan ignored him. 'We also want to ask her about Grace Jefferies's murder,' he called. 'We know Roy Trent lived in the same road as Howard Stamp, and Louise Burton lived opposite Grace. We think Priscilla can tell us the connections. We're prepared to wait as long as it takes. She can't leave her car out there forever.'
It was George who thwarted any attempt Roy might have made to shut Jonathan up. She used her briefcase to block his upswinging arm. 'How
Roy might have reacted if his barmaid and one of his regulars hadn't appeared in the corridor behind Jonathan. They stood openmouthed, listening to what George was saying. 'In the kitchen,' he told George and Jonathan tersely.
But Tracey wasn't inclined to go that easily. 'It didn't sound very private. Everyone could hear it. Should I phone the police?'
'No.'
Tracey turned to George, her expression alight with curiosity. Perhaps she felt a sisterhood with the other woman after the remarks about 'rape,' or perhaps she didn't like her boss much. 'What about you, love? Are you OK? Has someone been hurting you?'
George shook her head. 'I'm all right for the moment, Tracey, but if there's anymore shouting, I believe you should call the police. We haven't come for a fight, but things get out of hand very quickly when people lose their tempers.'
'That's for sure,' said the girl with feeling. She took a last look at Roy and there was a hint of derision in her eyes, as if things had been said that struck chords with her. 'I'll see you later then.'
