Samantha returned as he was leaving.
Although he wanted to be rid of her, Armstrong had to admit that she was a attractive woman; the sort of woman, if he were a few years younger, who would have suited him just fine.
Chapter 27
Bob Palmer left the area soon after dragging Wolfenden into the alley. He was confused, unsure where to go. In the end, he found himself back at his house. He peered through the curtains in the front room, saw his neighbours washing the car or taking the dog for a walk or playing with the children. None of it interested him.
The best he could do was to go back to London, possibly revisit the Stag Hotel, not that he had enjoyed the ambience of the place, nor the recalcitrant attitude of the barman. And if Jacob – he never knew his surname – had made an official complaint, there was the possibility that the police would be interested.
He spent the night in the house, not sleeping, increasingly agitated, before leaving in the early hours of the morning before the sun had risen.
In London, he checked into a hotel ten miles away from where Stephen had conducted his business. He had thought in his confused mind to start enquiring at the local tattoo shops, but he decided against that. He made a few phone calls, old acquaintances of Stephen’s that he had known, but most of them had moved on; a few answered the phone, none expressed any interest in meeting the dead man’s dull brother.
Palmer turned on the television in the room, an old black and white movie, Sherlock Holmes he thought it was, but he wasn’t focusing. Inside him, the constant welling up of emotion, thinking back to that night with Liz.
Nobody cared about her, only him. He had seen the other mourners at the funeral, sad faces for sure, but a few weeks and they would get on with their lives.
He walked out of the hotel and took a bus back to where he had met Jacob. He walked into the bar, even though he had said he would not.
‘A pint of beer, he said to the barman.
‘If you’re looking for Jacob, he’s not here.’
‘Jacob, not this time. I’ve no questions, not any more. And if I did, you wouldn’t tell me, would you?’
‘If you’re aiming to drag me into an alleyway, the same as you did Jacob, don’t expect to come out of there in one piece. People like you sicken me. Nerdy, clinging, unable to deal with life.’
‘You’re right, I suppose. They’re both dead, Stephen and Liz; get on with life, that’s what I say.’
The barman, experienced as he was with dealing with people down on their luck, people with a sad story to tell, knew that the man did not intend to get on with his life.
He hadn’t liked the look of him the first time, and as to why he had ventured into the pub again… God only knows, he thought. And if they ever find out that he’s looking for her, then it’s his funeral, not mine.
‘I’ll give you a word of advice,’ the barman said. ‘Get out of here before someone sees you.’
‘Who?’
‘I’m giving advice, not details. It’s up to you to make your own decision. I can supply you with beer for as long as you keep paying, but I don’t want blood in here; not yours, not mine.’
‘Then give me a name,’ Palmer said.
‘Not a chance.’
In the bar, Bob Palmer could see very few people. It wasn’t an attractive place to be, not trendy, out of tune with the modern customer.
To one side of the bar, an elderly couple sat holding hands, probably reflecting on their lives, he thought. Near to the open fire at the rear of the bar, an old woman sat, a small glass in front of her. She was knitting. He remembered his mother used to knit, but that was a long time ago. Nowadays, nobody had the time. Three young people sat along the far wall. He was sure they were underage, but the barman obviously didn’t care, and neither did he.
‘Give me a hint, and I’ll go,’ Palmer said.
‘I’ve given you my advice. That’s all you’re going to get from me.’
‘Jacob, what time do you expect him in?’
‘He’s a free agent, comes and goes as he likes. Wish I could. I’m stuck here with two children at home, a wife who needs more money. Are you single?’
‘I’m single, always have been,’ Palmer replied.
Nothing like it. I can remember when I was on my own, plenty of good nights down the pub, not this dive, mind you. No shortage of women, ready and able.’
‘Why did you get married?’
‘She told me she was on the pill, but you can’t trust them, never can. She wanted a kid, but she wanted the ring on the finger as well. I was done for.’
‘Jacob? Where can I find him?’
‘Look here, Palmer, I’ve been civil to you, but get out of here, please. It’s good advice I’m giving you. If you don’t go, I’ll have to make a phone call, not that I want to. I don’t want to tell these people where you are. You’re probably a decent enough guy, mind your own business as a rule. You’re educated, I can see that. This place is for losers.’
Not sure what to do, Palmer downed his drink and left. Outside, on the other side of the road, keeping out of sight, Jacob Wolfenden. He made a phone call.
***
The team in Challis Street realised the importance of what Jim Greenwood had found out from the vicar. Isaac and Wendy were in the car heading to
