Murder Club - Mark Pearson [78]
Delaney gestured to the barman and Sally opened the folder and flicked through a few pages.
A few possible women to talk to, nothing really obvious. They are all a bit vague as to how they got their injuries. Pointing more towards domestic abuse maybe, but not the sort of assault Michael Robinson made on Stephanie Hewson. But this one looks more promising, sir,’ she said, removing a sheet or two of paper and closing the folder.
‘Go on?’
‘Her name is Lorraine Eddison. She’s a thirty-three-year-old dental nurse. She lives and works in Harrow. She was assaulted four months after Michael Robinson was arrested and put on remand.’
She placed a photograph in front of her boss, taking the drink that had been put to one side for her.
‘They look alike, don’t they?’
‘Not only do they look alike, sir. She claims she was mugged, resisted and the attacker cut her with a knife.’
‘Where?’
‘Down by where we parked the other day when we met DI Hamilton at The Castle pub.’
‘I didn’t mean where was she attacked, I mean where was she cut?’
‘Sliced across the belly, sir, from behind. He had hold of her round the neck and she struggled. So he cut her.’
‘But no rape?’
‘She says not, sir.’
‘But she may not be telling the whole story.’
‘Like you said.’
‘I did. Where does she live?’
‘The other side of the hill. Past the school and heading down to the main road that goes to Northwick Park. Maybe fifteen minutes’ walk from where she was attacked.’
‘What was she doing on the hill?’
‘Had been meeting friends for a few drinks at The Castle. Someone’s birthday celebration. It was a warm night. Thought she might as well walk.’
‘Just like Stephanie Hewson. Maybe we should go and have a chat with her.’
‘Now?’
‘Not just yet. We’d better go and have another chat with Bible Steve first, don’t you think?’
‘Sir.’
DI Tony Hamilton held the door open leading into the lounge bar of The Crawfish pub open for his female colleague, who didn’t seem impressed by the gesture.
‘Save it for the uniform girls, Hamilton,’ she said.
She walked past him and into the bar. The Crawfish was an old-fashioned country pub, L-shaped. Wooden beams, a wooden floor with rugs. A medium-sized bar at the top of the small part of the L, with a dining area to the left and snug bar in front. The snug had a large open fireplace with a firedog in the middle filled with flaming logs. The flames crackled and snapped as they walked past. There weren’t many diners left but a few locals were dotted here and there, a couple playing dominoes, an elderly man sitting by the fireside, with a pile of scribbled receipts and notes that he was going through and entering into a notebook. The bar was L-shaped too and Tony and Emma walked up a small step and perched in the corner on a couple of bar stools.
There was one barman behind the bar. A man in his late twenties, called Lee, according to the name embroidered on his staff polo shirt. He was serving a couple of middle-aged Hooray Henrys. The Henry was in maroon-coloured corduroy trousers with a striped yellow shirt and tweed jacket, Henrietta in a pair of riding trousers a size too small for her and a white silk shirt. Apparently, the wine the barman offered to them wasn’t to their liking. They were obliged to wait for a few minutes until, with a sniffy nod, they seemed pleased, if not delighted, with the best that was on offer.
Lee rang up their purchase on the till, then crossed to Tony and Emma. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting. Will you be staying with us tonight?’
‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ Emma Halliday said.
‘Sorry. We’re expecting a couple who booked in. Probably delayed by the snow.’
Emma nodded. She wasn’t too surprised. The last leg of their journey had taken a lot longer than the first.
‘It’s getting a bit Winter Wonderland out there,’ Tony agreed.
‘Nightmare, more like,’ said Emma.
‘So what can I get you?’ asked the barman. ‘I’m afraid the kitchen is closed until six o’clock if you were looking to have something to eat.’
‘We weren’t,’ said DI Halliday, flashing her warrant