Jack jotted down the phone number when Darla shared it, then the detectives left the flat.

“That was tough,” Jack said when they set off in the car.

“They’re all tough, Jack. Our job is definitely not getting any easier. That’s for sure. Right, let’s get to the pub and see what we can glean from the manager.”

CHAPTER TWO

By the time Sally and Jack pulled into the Old Fox’s car park, the customers were already starting to enter the front door. “Let’s hope the manager has staff arranged to cover the bar early doors. Otherwise, I sense we could be in for a long wait,” Sally grumbled, switched off the engine, and climbed out of the car.

Jack licked his lips. “A long pint would go down a treat right about now.”

“When wouldn’t it with you? You know what’s always amazed me?”

Jack frowned and shook his head. “No, what?”

“How the devil you manage to stay so slim, considering the amount of booze you throw down your neck.”

“Christ, hark at you. From what I can remember, you’re not averse to the odd tipple yourself.”

“Hmm… that was before. Let’s not go down that route. Are you ready?” Sally pushed open the door to the lounge bar of the Old Fox.

“I’m right behind you,” Jack said.

Sally dipped her hand into her jacket pocket and produced her warrant card. When she approached the bar, the rotund barman smiled and walked their way.

“What can I get you nice folks?”

Sally held up her ID. “DI Sally Parker and my partner, DS Jack Blackman. Are you the manager?”

He peered at her identification then leaned against the shelf behind him and crossed his arms. “I am. Greg Jones. What’s this about?”

“We’d rather have a word in private, if it’s all the same to you. Can you call on a member of staff to relieve you for ten minutes or so?”

“Nope. The first bar staff member is due to start her shift in thirty minutes. Can you hang on until then?”

“We’re going to have to. You better give us two orange juices while we wait.”

He popped the tops off two small bottles and placed them on the counter, along with two glasses. “Wait over there, and I’ll join you when I can.” He pointed at a small table in the corner near the window overlooking the children’s play area at the back of the pub.

Sally and Jack picked up their drinks and left the bar. “That’s funny,” Sally said.

“What is?” Jack took his seat, eyeing the manager behind the bar.

“The fact that he didn’t press us on why we’re here. Wouldn’t you if you were in his shoes?”

“I suppose so.” Jack continued watching the man.

The manager went back to his regular customers and carried on laughing with them as if Sally and Jack weren’t there. The more Sally observed his demeanour, the more her suspicions grew.

Finally, an older lady in the process of removing her jacket entered the bar. “Sorry I’m late, boss. The traffic was bad.”

“I’m used to it. You lot seem to treat this place as a joke when it suits you. What with that Brenda dipping out of her shift early last night! You lot should start showing me more respect and begin valuing your jobs, or I’ll sack the bloody lot of you.”

“Brenda was ill. There was no harm done. I covered for her—without pay, I hasten to add. Have you heard from her this morning?”

“Why should I? Hurry up and stop nattering. I’ve got a couple of folks waiting to see me over there.” Greg nodded in Sally and Jack’s direction.

“Oops, you’ve got it. I’ll be two ticks.”

Once the woman had returned and installed herself behind the bar, the manager poured himself half a pint of beer and joined them at the table. “Right, what’s this all about?”

Sally smiled tightly at the man. “Brenda Fisher. I heard you mention her name just a moment ago.”

“That’s right. She ducked out of her shift early last night; complained about a stomach ache or something along those lines. What about her?”

Sally inhaled then exhaled a large breath. “She’s dead, and we’re trying to ascertain why.”

“What?” Greg’s voice rose, making the other people in the pub turn their way.

“Can you tell us how Brenda usually travelled home after her shift? Did she bring a car to work?”

“How the heck should I know?” Greg queried, clearly traumatised by the news.

“Would the lady behind the bar know?”

“Denise, did Brenda usually bring a car to work?”

The woman behind the bar left the customers and came over to Sally’s table. “I’m not sure. Why?”

Greg lowered his voice and told Denise, “Brenda’s dead. These two are coppers investigating her death.”

Denise gasped and stumbled against the table when her legs wobbled beneath her. Jack leapt out of his seat to support the woman. “Are you all right?”

She flashed a smile heavy with grief and patted his hand gripping her arm. “I’ll be fine. It’s such a shock. I knew she was ill last night, but I didn’t realise it was that serious. Damn, I should have called her a taxi to take her home.”

Sally’s gaze drifted between Greg and Denise. “The thing is, she was found murdered. Her death had nothing to do with her illness.”

“What?” Greg said almost before Sally had finished talking. “Why? Where?”

“Why, I can’t answer that yet, but the ‘where’ I can. Her naked body was found in a graveyard in Acle. What I’d like to know is if she was talking to anyone in particular last night? A stranger perhaps?”

Denise rubbed her head in thought. “There was a man, but he left a good ten to fifteen minutes before she did.”

“Can you give us a hint to his identity?” Sally asked.

“Crap, can’t say I took that much notice really. We were all busy here last night. There was a large party in the restaurant, a birthday bash for an eighty-year-old. I was tidying away their glasses when I noticed Brenda looking ill.”

Sally nodded. “Had she been ill long? I mean, at the beginning of her shift?”

“I didn’t really notice.”

Sally turned to Jack. “Maybe someone laced her drink with something.”

“Poison?” Jack replied.

“Who knows? Are your staff allowed to drink while serving customers, Greg?”

“The odd one, only an orange juice or something similar. Definitely nothing alcoholic, that’s for sure. I’m telling you, none of my customers would poison her.”

“It’s just a suspicion at this point, nothing concrete.”

A man at the bar tapped his glass on the glossy wood, eager for service. Denise excused herself and ran back behind the bar to serve the impatient customer.

“We’ll need to ask the other members of staff on duty last night if they saw this customer. It’s vital we get a description as soon as possible, if only to discount him from our enquiries.”

“We run a skeleton staff during the day. Most of our trade takes place after seven in the evening, when you’ve finished for the day, I’m guessing,” Greg said.

“Then we can either send uniformed police in to ask the staff to give us a statement, or you can give us everyone’s address and we’ll conduct our enquiries off the premises.”

“That would suit me better. I’ll go to the office and sort out the details for you.” The manager left the table and slipped behind the bar again.

“Is he legit?” Jack asked, “Or could he have committed the crime?”

“What are you basing that assumption on, Jack?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. He seemed a bit off with us. That’s all.”

Sally shook her head in frustration. “Going by your logic, seventy percent of the bloody country would be sat behind bars. Coppers are hardly on everyone’s Christmas card list, are we?”

“Granted. Is there anything we can do while we wait?”

Sally pondered his question for a second or two then snapped her fingers. “Get on to the station. Ask Joanna to look into the boyfriend’s travel itinerary. See if he’s returned to the country lately. I’ll go and question the barmaid a bit more in between her serving the customers.”