“Witnesses? Anywhere?”
Carrie shook her head. “I don’t think so. Mark says not.”
“Who was the friend?”
Carrie pulled a face. “I don’t know. Apparently, Kai said his mum went out at short notice to meet someone for a meal at the pub. He thinks she might have been on a date. That’s all he knows.”
“Anything else?”
“He asked why we were here and I just said we were following up a lead, a few things, in the close. Cold case enquiries. I didn’t actually say it was anything to do with Karen Williams. Was that the right thing to say?”
Gayther nodded.
“They’re treating it as a hit-and-run. They’re checking garages and hospitals and CCTV on the A12 and in Saxmundham to see if they can uncover anything, a damaged car or anyone who was injured. There’s no talk of anything else.”
“Of murder?” Gayther said.
“Do you think …?” answered Carrie.
“I don’t know, Carrie. Big coincidence if it isn’t. Look, while everyone is taking care of Kai Williams, you and I can pay a visit to the Red Lion on the way back. Let’s drop by and see what we can discover.” 7. TUESDAY 13 NOVEMBER, LUNCHTIME
Gayther and Carrie sat quietly at a corner table in the Red Lion pub just outside Saxmundham. They both had a glass of dark fizzy drink, each with ice cubes and a slice of lime, in front of them.
“Tastes disgusting, whatever it is.”
“Coke Zero. No sugar.”
“Diet Coke, then? With sweeteners … loads of chemicals that’ll give you cancer in twenty years.”
“No, Coke Zero.”
“So, what’s the difference? Diet Coke. Zero Coke. I assume they’re both sugar-free. And calorie-free?”
Carrie shrugged. “Same drink. Different taste. Good for diabetics paddling about in the shallows.”
Gayther huffed and puffed as he pushed his half-empty glass away and looked around him.
It was a quaint, old-fashioned pub, full of low beams, a mish-mash of dark tables and chairs and a mix of cushions that, Gayther thought as he moved one slowly away from him, had seen far better days.
The pub seemed bigger on the inside than the outside, with more nooks and crannies appearing as they went further in.
It was about a third full, but short-staffed, and the husband-and-wife landlords seemed rushed off their feet serving lunchtime meals. After introductions and brief mentions of Karen Williams, they had shown Gayther and Carrie to a tucked-away table near the back and asked them to wait until the pub had settled down. “Twenty minutes, no more,” said the husband. Gayther and Carrie declined the offer of something to eat.
“They’ve got CCTV,” Carrie said suddenly after a few minutes’ silence. “Above the door as you come in. That should make it easier.”
Gayther nodded. “I’ve got two questions and we should be able to answer them ourselves from the CCTV. Much easier than half-remembered thoughts and ideas from staff who weren’t really taking much notice at the time.”
“Who was she with?” asked Carrie.
“Yes, it would be too much to ask that she was with Challis, Halom or Burgess or another Scribbler-look-a-like, though we can but hope. Who knows?”
“And the other,” Carrie said, “would be … why was she walking alone late at night?”
Gayther replied, “Yes, although that’s all linked up with who she was with. A man who didn’t want to give her a lift home. Why? Because they’d had an argument? She’d knocked him back? I’d like to know if she was drunk … how much she had drunk … was she sober or tiddly drunk or all over the road?”
Carrie spoke up quickly. “No crime in a woman having a drink, guvnor. If she did. She could simply have met an old school friend or work colleague for a bite to eat and then walked home for some fresh air and been knocked over. As simple as that.”
“Of course, that’s more likely than not. Most probably, it’s a terrible tragedy. But we have to check out every lead and see …”
Gayther looked up and saw the male landlord coming towards him.
“Barry,” he re-introduced himself as Gayther and Carrie got to their feet. “Barry Chapman, sorry to have kept you waiting. We had someone here earlier. PCs Webb and Harris? We went through it all with them. Are you …?”
“DI Gayther, DC Carrie,” Gayther smiled, turning towards Carrie. “Karen Wiliams’ visit here last night. We just wanted to check, if we may, what you can tell us about it?”
Chapman shook his head. “Nothing much, really. It was busy – curry night – and it was just me and the wife and the chef and a couple of students in helping out, fetching and carrying. Me and the wife were behind the bar, neither of us recall seeing her. One of your PCs showed us a photo. It didn’t ring a bell. Neither of us remember serving her at the bar. It was only when we saw the CCTV footage that we recognised the woman in the photo. Clara and Zoe, the two students, may have seen more. They’d have taken the order and served the food to them. They’re not in today.”
“Them? Who was she with?” Gayther asked.
Chapman stood up. “Come and have a look at the CCTV footage for yourself.”
“You still have it?” Carrie asked.
Chapman nodded his reply. “Our licence means we have to keep data for fifty-six days. Your colleague copied it onto a USB or bluetoothed it, I’m not sure which. He told us to keep hold of the original.”
Gayther grinned at Carrie as he stood up and she followed. He looked like a child at Christmas, she thought, about to unwrap a big mysterious present, the last and biggest one left beneath the Christmas tree.
* * *
Chapman stood in front of a large black television in a back room that doubled as a rest and storage area. A settee, a coffee table and boxes, stacked here, there and everywhere, filled almost all of the space.
