The police were no further ahead with the Talbot or Millard cases. Door-to-door enquiries were still being carried out to determine both of the men’s movements. Robert was known to frequent the local pub, The Smith’s Forge, so Maggie and Kat were on their way there. When they arrived, Maggie noted the drab pub was empty and they were greeted by Kevin, the manager.
‘Morning, sir. Are you Graham Smith?’ Kat looked at the heavyset, middle-aged man behind the bar.
‘Sorry, lass, Mr Smith is rarely here. He has pubs all across the UK, so leaves me to manage this one. The name is Kevin. Kevin Pearson. Is there something I can help with?’
‘First off, the name is PC Everett, not lass …’ Maggie had to stifle a laugh as the manager turned a crimson colour and apologized for his mistake.
Kat gave him an evil grin and continued, ‘ and yes, we’re wondering if you could tell us a bit about Robert Millard? You may have heard that Mr Millard was murdered and we understand from some of his neighbours that he was a regular here. One of my colleagues might also have attended and asked you questions about the death of Drew Talbot. Did he also come into the pub?’
‘Ah, yes. I know Robert, but I’ve never heard of Talbot. I did see the story on the news about him – sounded pretty gruesome. Robert generally spends … or should I say spent … three or four days a week here. When he was working, I think it was only the weekends he’d drop in. When he split with his bird, Louise, I saw him more often. Had a bit of a temper and liked to mouth off, but never caused any trouble I couldn’t handle. So, he was murdered too, was he? Was it his wife who did it?’
‘Why would you ask that?’ Maggie stepped forward.
‘She was here the other week, that Louise. Chatting to Shell Baker, and a few other people. Louise was bloody angry. Overheard her shouting that she “wished the fucker was dead” – I think those were her words, something like that anyway. Robert used to beat the shit out of her, I hear. He was on probation or something. Shell tried to calm Louise down, but she was having none of it. I had to ask her to leave.’
Maggie processed this information before asking her next question.
‘You seem to know a lot about the people who frequent this pub. Did Louise go quietly then? And do you know where we can find Shell Baker?’
‘Yeah. Well people tend to tell me things or talk loud enough so I can hear them. Must be my kind face. I had no problem with Louise leaving. A few choice swear words, she was pretty pissed. Shell owns a cleaning company. They clean the pub and Shell’s girls are usually here from 5.00 a.m. to 7.00 a.m. on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Sometimes Shell’s with them, guess it depends on how busy she is. Not sure I should be really saying all this or be giving you her address without permission. I’ll speak to Graham, my boss, and see what he says – gimme five.’
‘Hang on.’
The barman stopped, turned, and looked at Maggie.
‘Why are the cleaners here so early?’
‘We have a twenty-four-hour liquor licence, so we open at 9.00 a.m. We need the place clean before then.’
Maggie looked at the surroundings: the barstools needed replacing, the uncomfortablelooking chairs lumpy with the stuffing coming out of them, the carpet so worn you could see the tatty, wood floor beneath it.
‘Thanks. You can make that call now.’
He took a mobile out of his pocket and went into the back room.
Maggie and Kat waited, trying to look as patient as possible.
Ten minutes later, he returned. ‘Yeah, no problem with giving you the address. Cragley Court Estate, number five. Just don’t say I gave it to you; she has a gob on her and I don’t fancy getting an earful.’ He laughed nervously, and Maggie just smiled in response.
‘Thanks for your help. Can’t make any promises, but we’ll do our best to keep your name out of it.’
The officers left. Maggie got the impression that Kevin didn’t want to point any fingers, but the way he went on about Louise, he seemed to think she’d be capable of anything. Or to want them to think that.
‘So, what do you think, Maggie?’
Maggie turned to Kat and they stopped on the side of the road. ‘To be honest, I get that Louise Millard probably had a lot of pent-up anger, but given that she put up with all that abuse from Robert, I can’t see why she’d seek out revenge now. I mean, there hasn’t been any real catalyst. If she was going to do it, there would have been plenty of opportunities.’
‘That’s exactly what I was thinking. But who knows when a person reaches that point? Maybe she just finally exploded. Should I run a check on Shell Baker? I take it we’re heading there now?’
‘Good idea. If she has form, we may help direct our questioning.’
Maggie focused on the road as Kat radioed through the checks. She muttered down the line and killed the radio. ‘Fuck all, just a public order offence in her teens.’ So their questioning would be fairly straightforward.
According to the details they were given, Shell didn’t live too far from the pub and the officers arrived just in time to see someone leaving the property. Maggie strained her eyes and noticed cleaning supplies in the woman’s hand. It was her. They jumped out.
‘Excuse me, Miss! Can we have a word?’ Maggie shouted.
Shell stopped in her tracks. ‘And who the hell are you?’
‘Sorry. My name is DC Maggie Jamieson, and this is my colleague, PC Kat Everett. We wondered if you could spare a few minutes of your time to help with our enquires?’ By the look on her face, Maggie could see that Shell’s interest was piqued.
‘What enquiries? I’ve done nowt, you know.’
‘We know, Mrs … or is it Ms Baker?’
‘Miss, actually, but you can call me Shell.’
‘Thanks, Shell. Do you want to step back inside? This is kind of a sensitive topic.’ Maggie pointed at the door.
Shell saw some of her neighbours’ curtains twitching and she waved her middle finger towards them. ‘Fucking nosy bastards. Sorry, but the majority of people around here do my head in. Come inside – but I only have a few minutes. I’m off to one of my priority jobs. It needs to be done before he opens later today.’
‘It shouldn’t take long.’
Maggie followed Shell inside, with Kat hot on her heels. The flat was tidy and felt quite homely to Maggie, whose own house was a bombshell in comparison. A quick scan around the place suggested Shell lived alone, although she noticed a man’s sweater thrown over a chair in the dining area.
‘Is your partner home?’ Maggie glanced in the direction of the chair.
‘Partner?’ Shell looked nervously towards the sweater over the chair. ‘Oh, because of the sweater? Nah, that’s my … erm … cousin’s sweater. He was round the other night for a bit of a natter.’
‘Oh right. OK. Do you mind if we have a seat?’ They followed her into the living room and Shell plonked herself down directly opposite them.
‘So, what is this about then?’
‘We’re questioning people who might have known or come across Robert Millard. His decomposed body was found the other night and it seems that he may have been dead for some time.’ Maggie was always curious about people’s reaction to this sort of information, and she wasn’t surprised by Shell’s response, given their greeting earlier.
‘So? What has this got to do with me? What did he die of? A heart attack or something?’
‘No. He was murdered. It’s been on the news.’
Shell covered her mouth. ‘Oh, my god. Really? I don’t watch the news. In fact, I rarely watch the telly. Too busy.’
Maggie cleared her throat and continued, ‘As I said, we can’t share specific details, but the circumstances surrounding his death are definitely suspicious. We have been led to believe that you’re friends with, or know of, his estranged wife, Louise Millard?’ Maggie noticed that Shell stiffened when Louise’s name was mentioned.
‘That’s right. And what of it?’ The pitch of Shell’s voice had gone up a notch and Maggie instantly caught it.
Maggie looked at Kat, who grinned, each as curious as the other. ‘Why so defensive, Shell?’
‘Defensive? I’m just pissed off that you’re questioning me about a low-life prick who gets his jollies from kicking the shit out of women. If you ask me, he deserves whatever he got, and I hope it was as painful as possible. Was he shot? Stabbed? Had the shit kicked out of him? However he died, it was probably too good for him.’
‘We can understand your anger. But we really need you to answer our questions as best you can, Shell. How do you know Louise Millard?’
‘Markston is not the biggest of places, is it? If you’re not family, you probably grew up with the person. I knew all about what that prick did to Louise. But I have no clue what happened to him.’
Maggie caught Shell looking at her watch.
‘Look, I really have to go otherwise I won’t get my cleaning job done in time.’
‘That’s fine, but we may need to speak to you at a later time. Can you jot down some details of the places you work? Here’s my card, and last thing: do you know someone by the name of Drew Talbot?’ As Maggie passed her details to Shell she thought she saw a flash of recognition in her eyes.
Shell wrote out her work information and handed the paper to Kat.
‘Drew who? Sorry, doesn’t sound familiar. Hmmm … Drew Talbot.’ Shell shook her head.
‘OK, well if you think of anything, call us.’
‘Yeah, I will, but I don’t know what else I can tell you.’ Shell pocketed the card and showed them out. Maggie followed Shell’s movements and watched her pick up the cleaning supplies, jump in her car, and head in the direction of the town centre.
‘Well, she couldn’t wait to get rid of us, could she? And Kevin was right – what a fucking gob on her.’ Kat started the car. Maggie raised an eyebrow at her.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘No reason.’ Maggie hid a smile, ‘You’re right, she does have a gob on her. Is it just me or did something seem off? I don’t know for sure, but I’m pretty sure she was hiding something. She didn’t seem keen to share her work details with us. Maybe everything is not above board on that front. We’ll have to check it out at some point. Anyway, let’s go and speak with Louise. See if we can shed any further light on this. The guv isn’t going to be happy if we come back with nothing.’