Aidan and Sara pulled up outside the George & Dragon pub in Seaton, and Aidan glanced at his watch.
‘I’ll pop in and see what they’ve got on their CCTV. Do you want to have a wander and see if there’re any residential cameras?’
‘I can’t imagine it’ll take long,’ Sara replied. ‘Population of two hundred people in the whole village, apparently. I doubt if there are thirty buildings on his entire running route. Might be better if we do it all together. At least that way we won’t miss anything.’
Aidan furrowed his brow and looked at her. ‘You do know you’re not allowed to drink on duty, don’t you, Detective Constable Henshaw? We can’t have you sinking double gin and tonics all afternoon if that’s your idea.’
Sara laughed and shook her head as Aidan’s face broke into a smirk. ‘You’re a dick, Aidan.’
‘And that’s another thing you need to learn, Detective Constable,’ Aidan said, getting out of the car. ‘If you’re going to insult your fellow officers, put some effort in and at least make it better than what my last customer called me.’
‘Now you’ve got my attention,’ Sara replied. ‘Mind if I take a few guesses?’
‘Only if you’re willing to write it up in your PCB.’
‘On second thoughts, I’m not sure the paperwork appeals. I’ll just stick to insulting you in my head.’
Sara opened the front door of the George & Dragon and they stepped inside. She was pretty sure she’d never been in here before, but she had a feeling she’d be back. It was a cosy blend of traditional and modern, with a clear focus on food and wine — two things Sara was always more than happy to see.
It was a quiet afternoon, but they were quickly greeted by the owner, who poured them each a complimentary orange juice.
‘I’m guessing this is about the body down by the viaduct?’ he asked, handing over the drinks.
‘It is, yeah,’ Aidan replied. ‘Do you know much about it?’
The man shook his head. ‘Not really. Only hearsay off the locals. Found hanging by a dog walker, wasn’t he?’
‘Not quite,’ Aidan said, never ceasing to be amazed at how social media and the local rumour mill could distort facts so easily. ‘Did you know him well?’
‘The chap who died? No, don’t think so. Not even sure who it was, to be honest. One of the locals said they saw police cars up the other end of the village this morning, so I presume he lived there.’
Aidan was almost impressed. The pub had barely been open a couple of hours, and he was certain the only car that had attended Sandra Forbes’s house was Caroline’s very much unmarked Volvo. Then again, people did seem to have an uncanny knack for spotting a plain-clothes police officer a mile off. He unlocked his phone and pulled up a photo of Martin. ‘Do you recognise this chap at all?’ he asked.
The man studied the photo for a few moments, looking as though he was ploughing the depths of his memory. ‘Yeah, he’s familiar. He’s been in here before, I’m sure of it.’
‘Is he a regular, would you say?’
‘I wouldn’t say so, no.’
‘Has he been in recently?’
‘Depends what you mean by recent, really. Is that the only photo you’ve got of him?’
‘No, there’s another one,’ Aidan replied, swiping the screen on his phone and bringing up a recent picture of Martin and Sandra Forbes.
‘Ah. Yes. It’s been a while since he was in, I think, but I remember her alright.’
‘The woman?’ Aidan asked.
‘Yeah. His wife, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah. Has she been in?’
‘Week or so ago, I think. Maybe a bit more. She came in all nervous and flustered, looking round the pub. One of the bar staff asked if she was okay and she said she was looking for her husband. Once she’d seen he wasn’t here, she left again.’
Aidan and Sara exchanged a glance. ‘Is that something that happens a lot?’ Aidan asked him.
‘From time to time. I wouldn’t say a lot, but you do sometimes get people trying to find their other half. Used to happen quite a bit back in the day, before mobile phones and all that. Alcoholics and big drinkers picking somewhere the missus wouldn’t think to look for them. Much rarer now, of course.’
‘Was that the only time this woman had been in?’
‘Oh no, I’m pretty sure she’s been in with him before. Not for a while, mind. Don’t know them by name or anything. Why’s that? Is he the chap they found dead?’
Aidan’s first instinct was to try to change the subject, keen to ensure that the family’s privacy was respected and that rumours didn’t start about Sandra Forbes winching her husband up into a tree in front of a gaggle of dog walkers. Realistically, though, he knew people would form their own theories and conclusions no matter what he did.
Aidan cleared his throat. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance we could have a quick look at your CCTV box, is there?’