“I’m sure. If you aren’t able to tell us what went on here last night, do you think another member of staff could fill us in?”

“No one is on duty until later on this evening, I’m afraid. I’m not a slave driver with my staff like other pub landlords. I like to give them a decent amount of time off between shifts. I find it keeps the staff and the customers happy.”

“So, Maddie filling in for you was a genuine one-off then?” Sally asked.

“Yes. Crap, I’m going to be riddled with guilt now for the rest of my days.”

Sally decided then not to tell the landlord about Maddie’s mum dying. She feared it would only leave an extra burden on Mr. Locke’s shoulders. “These things happen, Mr. Locke. There’s no point blaming yourself, no point whatsoever. Any chance we can question the staff on duty last night at home, or would you rather I send uniformed officers to take down statements when they show up for their shift later?”

“I’ll give you their addresses, if you don’t mind? There were only three other staff members on duty anyway last night. Monday is always a quiet day of the week for us.”

“That would be great. Do they live local?”

He stood and opened the top drawer of a metal filing cabinet. “I believe so. I’ll just check.” He returned, holding a sheet of paper with names and addresses typed on it.

Sally motioned for Jack to note down the addresses. The man pointed out the three relevant names, and her partner added them to his notebook.

“We’d better pay these folks a visit. If there’s nothing further you can add?”

“Not that I can think of. Will you be having a word with that dickhead of a boyfriend, Terry?”

“Yes, of course. One thing before we go.”

“What’s that, Inspector?”

Sally glanced around the office. “Do you have any form of security cameras on the premises?”

He sighed heavily. “The cameras outside are there as a deterrent only, I’m afraid. There’s nothing in the bar area at all. Never felt the need for it before. This is a quiet area, and trouble is virtually non-existent.”

“That’s a shame. Maybe you should consider it for the future.” Sally rose from her chair.

“Oh, I will. Don’t worry about that, Inspector, although it won’t help to bring back poor Maddie, will it?”

“Unfortunately not. Thanks for your time, Mr. Locke. Sorry to have spoilt your day.”

“Will I have to make contact with Maddie’s family about the funeral arrangements? Glynis idolised her daughter. This news is going to hit her very hard. She’s under the specialist for a bad heart, you know.”

Sally shook the man’s hand when they stepped back into the bar area. “I’m sure someone will be in touch with you from the family soon enough.”

“Crap! That was awkward,” Jack said once they were outside in the car park.

“It sure was. I didn’t have the heart to tell him about Glynis. The poor man felt guilty enough as it was. Let’s see what the staff have to say about last night. My gut feeling is that we’re going to draw another blank.”

“Yep, I’m inclined to agree with you.”

They set off for the council estate where the first member of staff lived. Jason Trent was still in bed when they rang the doorbell.

“Yeah, what is it? Can’t a man get any peace and quiet around here?”

Sally flashed her ID in his young face. He swept his long fringe out of his eyes and peered at her warrant card. “Coppers? What have I done wrong?”

“Nothing, we hope. Can we discuss this inside perhaps?”

“You’ll have to excuse the mess. A few of us had a bit of a party here last night after work.”

They followed the man into the messy living room, which looked as though a hundred five-year-olds had created havoc in it. A person was asleep on the sofa; Sally could just make out the top of a head but couldn’t tell if the occupant of the sleeping bag was male or female.

With nowhere to sit, Sally stood near the open galley kitchen but soon regretted her decision when the fumes of stale beer and garlicky remains of an Indian takeaway attacked her nostrils. “We’re here about a colleague of yours, Maddie Webster.”

The young man shrugged, and the person buried under the fraying sleeping bag stirred. “What about her?” Trent asked. “And no, she wasn’t here last night, although I did invite her.”

“Why didn’t she come?” Sally asked.

He shrugged again. “Not her scene. She didn’t really give us an excuse, and I didn’t push her on it.”

“I see. Okay, at the bar last night, did you notice Maddie speaking to anyone in particular?”

“Nope. Maddie’s a bit of a gas-bag. If someone’s got ears, then that’s Maddie’s kind of person.”

“Can you tell me if you know of anyone who could have been pestering her over the last few months?”

A frown wrinkled the young man’s brow. “What is this? Has something happened to her?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I should’ve said when we arrived. We’re investigating Maddie’s murder.”

“Murder?” Trent shouted, his bloodshot eyes widening.

The man on the couch bolted upright at the sound of his friend’s raised voice. “What? Who?”

Trent collapsed onto the arm of the sofa next to his friend. “Maddie,” he whispered, clearly shocked by the news.

His friend looked up at him then at Sally and Jack. “Maddie! This is some kind of April Fools. It’s got to be.”

“No. That’s not the way we do things, sir. Sorry, I didn’t get your name?” Sally asked, unamused by the young man’s comment.

“Wayne Frobisher. I work at the same pub as Maddie. We both did.”

“Ah, you’re on our list of contacts. So you were both working at the pub alongside Maddie last night, is that right?”

The two dazed men nodded.

“Did you see Maddie talking to anyone in particular at the bar?”

“She’s a bloody barmaid! That’s kind of in the job description. Chat up the punters, flirt a little, and hopefully, get them to spend more,” Trent replied sharply.

“Really? I thought their main aim was to serve the customers—it was when I first started out. I used to work part-time behind the bar at my local when I was eighteen. Are you telling me that things have altered now?”

Trent shrugged. “The full-timers are encouraged to go the extra mile, if you like, while the rest of us serve and move on to the next one.”

That news totally surprised and appalled Sally. Is that the way every pub works? Uses its bar staff as some kind of prostitute? “Maddie was a full-timer then?”

“Yep. She was really nice, too. Why would anyone kill her?”

“We’re trying to ascertain that, but unless you guys can enlighten us about what went on last night, our job is going to be impossible. Please think—was there a stranger sitting at the bar, engaging in conversation with her?”

The two men looked at each other. “I didn’t notice. Did you?” Trent asked Wayne.

“Nope. We were too busy making arrangements for the party afterwards. She turned us down at the start of our shift, and we didn’t try to bug her into changing her mind.” Wayne ran a hand through his dishevelled hair.

“Great! We know there aren’t any cameras at the pub, which is a shame. Okay, let’s try another avenue. Have either of you noticed a stranger perhaps arriving at the bar and talking to Maddie on any other occasion, say in the last week or so?”

Both men shook their heads. Then Trent said, “We didn’t have any reason to be on the lookout for anyone. Why should we? Murders just don’t happen around here, do they?”

“Actually, a fair few do. They just never hit the headlines,” Sally said. “What about Maddie’s ex? Did he used to frequent the pub?”

Trent shrugged. “Maybe once or twice, when they first started going out, not so much lately. He took to dipping his end into some other pussy while she was working at the pub.”

Sally cringed at the man’s vulgar interpretation. “Thanks for putting that so eloquently. He’s on our list of people to question.”