A Mystery On Tyneside E-Book

Eileen Thornton

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Agnes Lockwood is no stranger to crime scenes, but even she is shocked when she finds the body of a man lying on the floor of the ladies' room.

With her partner Alan - the local DCI - they set about tracking the murderer. This time, they are joined by her friend Sandra. But is one of them holding back something that could further their inquiry?

As Agnes begins to pull the loose ends together, danger stares her in the face once again. Together with Alan and Sandra, can she find the killer before another life is lost - and avoid becoming the next victim?

Leseprobe

A Mystery on Tyneside

Agnes Lockwood Mysteries Book Four

Eileen Thornton

Copyright (C) 2020 Eileen Thornton

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2020 by Next Chapter

Published 2020 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Cover Mint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Chapter One

Agnes was enjoying a carefree spending spree in the city centre. It had been quite a while since she last visited the Eldon Square shopping mall. With the weather being so warm during the summer months, she had never felt like wandering too far away from the quayside. The gentle breeze from the River Tyne, as it calmly flowed towards the open sea, had acted rather like a fan, keeping her cool while she had sat outside her favourite café near the Millennium Bridge. Even so, there had still been the odd day or two when the heat had been too much for her.

However, that morning there was a slight drizzle when they awoke and Agnes had decided it was the perfect excuse for her to catch up with some shopping. Not that she ever needed an excuse to go to the shopping mall. There was nothing she liked better than to wander around the shops. Besides, Alan, a Detective Chief Inspector with the Newcastle Police, wouldn't miss her as he was on duty. But then wasn't he always? It certainly appeared that way. She couldn't begin to count the number of times they had planned to go somewhere, only to have something come up and spoil it.

On the other hand, Alan didn't like wandering around the shops. If he had accompanied her, she would never have been able to spend so much time browsing through so many wonderful outfits. He hated lingering around women's clothing departments and would huff and puff and ask why she was taking so long. But then, even her late husband, Jim hadn't liked waiting outside the changing room while she was trying on outfits.

In a way, Alan was a bit like Jim, when it came to buying new clothes for himself. He would walk into his favourite shop, flick through the rail of suits until something caught his eye. If he found it suitable, he would pay for the item and leave – job done. Yet, at the same time, Agnes had to admit that the method appeared to work, as Alan always looked so well turned out. It had been one of the first things she had noticed about him.

Agnes glanced at her watch. It was time to make her way to the restaurant, where she and Alan had arranged to meet up for lunch. She had booked a table before setting out that morning; afraid it might be busy when they arrived. Therefore, the only other problem was whether something had suddenly cropped up at the police station during the morning to prevent Alan from joining her.

It didn't take Agnes long to reach the restaurant. Thankfully the rain had eased by the time she left the mall, meaning she was able to make her way across Northumberland Street and along the road to the restaurant, without needing to unfold her umbrella. It was handy to have it tucked away in her bag, but there was always the problem of what to do with it once she arrived at her destination and it was dripping wet.

Leo, the manager, was standing by the door. He helped her off with her coat, before showing her across to the table. However, finding that Alan hadn't yet arrived, Agnes decided to pop into the ladies' room to re-freshen her make-up. Once inside, she hurried across to one of the mirrors above the line of washbasins opposite the door; the last thing she wanted to do was to keep Alan waiting. While she had the whole day to herself, he was limited to his short lunch break.

Agnes swiftly pulled her lipstick from her bag and leaned over the washbasin to get closer to the mirror. However, she had only applied the lipstick to half of her upper lip when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the reflection of a foot poking out from one of the cubicles. Shocked, the lipstick fell from her fingers and rattled around in the basin as she swung around. Now leaning back against the washbasin for support, she saw that the door to the cubicle was open.

“Are you okay?” Agnes called out, her heart beginning to thud with alarm.

When there was no reply, she slowly made her way across to the cubicle, again asking if the woman needed help. But, yet again, there was no reply. By now, Agnes had reached a point where she could see the woman's foot more closely; she was wearing trainers. Perhaps she had been out jogging and had found it all too much. These things happened all the time. However, as Agnes drew closer, she was stunned to find it wasn't a woman after all, it was a man who was lying on his side. She was about to ask him what he was doing in the ladies' room, thinking that perhaps he was mending something, when, to her utter horror, she saw a bullet hole in his forehead. Blood, still oozing from the wound, was trickling down his brow before dripping to the floor.

Clasping her hands over her mouth, Agnes took a few steps away from the body.

“Oh no,” she murmured. “Surely this can't be happening to me all over again?”

* * *

It had been a relatively quiet morning at the station for Detective Inspector Alan Johnson and his sergeant. A disturbance in Northumberland Street had been reported. However, when a couple of uniformed officers arrived on the scene they found it had all blown over.

“It's possible that those involved in the brawl got wind that a street vendor had called the police, so they scarpered,” the desk sergeant told Alan. “Everything appeared to be back to normal when the officers got there.”

Alan had been relieved to hear the news. If the fracas in the city centre had turned out to be something more serious, he and his sergeant could have been summoned to the scene, meaning lunch with Agnes would have been cancelled.

Agnes was already somewhere in the city buying new clothes for the autumn months. She had suggested waiting until he had a day off so he could accompany her. However, he had been more than happy for her to go on her own. A few weeks ago, he had gone with her to choose a new three-piece suite for the apartment they now shared. But shopping for furniture was a different matter altogether. He had quite enjoyed helping to choose the style and colour of the sofa and chairs for their new home.

When Agnes had first brought up the subject of buying the penthouse apartment, he had been a little hesitant. But that was mainly because he knew the price would be well beyond anything he could afford. The sale of his house in Heaton would never fetch that sort of money and he didn't really want to take out a mortgage; not at his age. However, when he finally voiced his thoughts to Agnes while on their way to view the property, she had assured him that buying the apartment would be a joint venture.

“I'm not expecting you to buy it on your own, Alan. If we agree to buy the apartment, we'll share the cost. The sale of my house in Essex and the sale of your house should cover the price,” she had told him.

“Yet, there's the possibility that it won't match the price,” Alan had persisted. “Though house prices have fallen over the last year or so, prices for apartments are still rising.”

However, Agnes had simply shrugged it off, saying how could the vendors refuse an offer when it was cash in hand? “I could pay for the apartment until our properties are sold,” she reassured him.

Alan looked at his watch. It was almost time to leave the police station to meet up with Agnes.

“I'll be off in a few minutes, Andrews. But give me a call if you need me.”

His sergeant nodded. He was about to say something, but Alan's mobile rang, beating him to it.

“It's Agnes,” Alan said, looking at the screen. “I bet she thinks I've forgotten about our lunch arrangement.”

“No, Agnes, I haven't forgotten. I was just about to leave…” he began.

“Alan, you must come now,” she interrupted.

“I've just said…”

“No! You don't understand – I've found a body…”

“What? Where are you?”

Alan glanced at Andrews and raised his eyes to the ceiling as Agnes went on to reveal her location.

“Get uniformed officers to the restaurant, ASAP, Andrews!” Alan called out. “Agnes has found someone she says has been shot.”

“I called an ambulance before calling you,” Agnes continued. “Thankfully, no one has needed to use the ladies' room, so far. Yet someone could walk in here at any moment,” she added, glancing at the door. “I haven't even informed the manager. But perhaps I should have said something to him…”

“No! You did the right thing. Leave everything as it is. Keep everyone out. We'll be there in a few minutes.”

By the time Alan had finished speaking, his sergeant had already called for officers to attend the scene.

“Also, get Jones and Smithers to…” Alan began.

“I can't,” Andrews replied. “They're at some meeting with the superintendent – remember?”

By now, Alan had already grabbed his coat and was heading for the door. “Yes,” he replied, swinging around to face his sergeant. “Why did Blake need to take my best detectives with him? Jimmy and Martin are looking into something else, so who are we left with?”

“What about Morris?” Andrews suggested. “He's here – somewhere. He could help us out.”

“Morris?” Alan almost spat out the detective constable's name as he swung around to face his sergeant.

“Yes, Morris,” Andrews replied. “If you aren't going to use him, why keep him on the team?” The sergeant was aware that Detective Constable Morris was not at the top of the DCI's detective list, since he had let the team down a few months ago by admitting to passing on police information for money.

Alan was so angry back then that his first instinct had been to speak to the superintendent about having him removed from the force. However, he had held back and even now, a few months later, he was still reserving his judgement. Maybe Morris's performance today would help him make up his mind.

“Okay, get hold of Morris and tell him to meet us outside,” Alan said. “But if he messes up this time…” He broke off and shook his head. “He's out!”

Chapter Two

The DCI found a couple of police cars already parked outside the restaurant when he pulled up. Obviously they had been in the vicinity when the word went out. One officer was standing at the front of the building to stop anyone entering or leaving the restaurant until they had been cleared to do so. Alan guessed another would be somewhere around the back, in case someone tried to sneak out that way. The other two patrol car officers were probably inside.

The three detectives stepped out of the car and hurried into the restaurant. Alan found Agnes waiting near the ladies' room. Though she looked rather strained, she smiled when she saw him hurrying across to her.

“It's okay. I'm here now,” he said, as he wrapped his arms around her.

“I'll be alright,” she replied, pressing her arms into his back. “You'd better get on with your job.”

Alan would like to have asked an officer to drive her back to the apartment, but he was aware from past experience that she would refuse to leave the scene of the crime – especially as it was she who had found the body. He turned and looked around. The two officers had done a good job at keeping the customers away from the crime scene. One was standing guard outside the ladies' room, while the other was questioning Leo Galdi, the manager.

Until today, Alan had never seen the manager look even remotely flustered. Always without a single hair out of place and wearing an immaculate smart suit, with the tip of a pristine white handkerchief peeping out from the top pocket of his jacket, he would miraculously appear at the entrance of the restaurant the moment a customer entered, to greet them with a warm welcome. Even when a patron, who had had too much to drink, behaved in the most irritating way simply to gain attention, he always remained calm while smoothing down the situation.

Today, however, Alan was seeing Leo in a whole new light. His hair was ruffled, probably from him constantly running his fingers through it. Also, his usually untouched handkerchief was clasped firmly in one hand as he repeatedly mopped his forehead. The poor man was obviously in a state of disbelief at what had happened in his restaurant. But then, who could blame him?

Alan walked across to the ladies' room and the officer opened the door in readiness for him to enter. However, the officer raised his eyebrows when he saw Agnes following closely behind.

“It's okay,” Alan assured the officer. “This is Mrs Lockwood. You'll recall that it was she who found the body. I need to know exactly what she saw when she first entered the room.”

As he spoke, he pulled out some covers for their shoes.

Now inside the ladies' room, Alan stared down at the body on the floor.

“This is exactly how you found the body?” Alan asked, taking a quick glance around the room.

Agnes nodded. “No one has entered the room since I called you. I stood outside the door until the officers arrived. I was here,” she added, moving to where she had been standing when she first spotted the body. “I saw the reflection in the mirror.”

By now, Alan had stepped inside the cubicle and was busy peering around for any clues.

Meanwhile, Agnes glanced in the mirror to relive the scene. Maybe there was something she had missed. Oops, yes there was; though it had nothing to do with the case. It appeared that in her haste to call Alan, she had only applied lipstick to one half of her top lip. Swiftly scooping up the lipstick from the basin, where it had landed earlier, she re-painted her lips.

Alan backed out of the cubicle and looked around the room. There didn't appear to be any blood anywhere else, other than the small pool by the victim's head. Everything else seemed to be in order. But then, how would he know? The ladies' room was not usually his port-of-call.

“Agnes, when you came in earlier, did anything strike you as being different to how it usually looks?”

“I honestly didn't take much notice, Alan. I only popped in here to check my make-up.” Agnes glanced across to the cubicle as she spoke. “But, getting back to your question, everything in here looks to be the same as usual. What on earth could be different in the ladies' loo?” It was then that her eyes rested on the window high on the outside wall. “Well, except for that window.”

“What about that window?” Alan asked, his eyes following her gaze to the rather small metal-framed, frosted glass window.

“It's wide open,” Agnes replied. Her eyes were still focused on the window. “I have never seen that window fully open before. There was something on the inside to stop it from being opened too wide.” She looked at Alan. “You know what I mean – the sort of thing on the windows at the hotel to stop someone leaning out too far and falling to the ground. But here, it's more likely it was to stop people from trying to get in here.”

Alan stared up at the window. Even though both he and Agnes had covered their shoes before entering the ladies' room, he still didn't really want to move any closer until the pathologist and his forensic team had scoured the whole area. Nevertheless, even from where he was standing, he could see a metal chain dangling from a hook on the wall. But, was that because someone had broken into or out of here?

Alan didn't get a chance to voice his thoughts, as Dr Nichols suddenly walked through the door. He was wearing his coveralls; ready to get to work on the body.

“Your sergeant said I'd find you in here.” He smiled at Agnes, before turning back to the DCI. “If you're done for the moment, we'll make a start.” He nodded towards the door, as his forensic team entered the room.

“Yes, I've finished for the time being, Keith,” Alan replied. He began to escort Agnes towards the door, but then suddenly stopped and turned back to face the pathologist. “Can you make sure someone checks out that window? It seems to have been tampered with. I'll be somewhere in the restaurant when you have any information.”

Back in the corridor, Alan spoke to one of the police officers as he removed the covers from his shoes. “Check the window in the gents. Let me know whether the chain that holds it in position has been broken. You'll find me in the restaurant. I need to speak to the manager.”

“Alan, why didn't you tell me that my lipstick wasn't on properly?” Agnes whispered.

“Wasn't it? I didn't notice.” Alan looked surprised.

“And you call yourself a detective!”

Chapter Three

Once the manager had finally pulled himself together, Alan was able to enquire whether he had noticed anyone leaving their table during the half-hour before Mrs Lockwood arrived.

“You must understand, Chief Inspector, I do not spy on our diners.”

“Of course you don't, Leo,” Alan replied. “But I also believe that nothing gets past you.”

The manager coughed. “Well, now that you come to mention it, I did see two gentlemen head out towards the men's room.”

“Are both men still here?” Alan asked.

“I can see one of them,” Leo said, after a swift glance around the room. “He's sitting over there – the man in the grey suit.” The manager gestured towards a group of twelve people sitting around a table. “They are here for a celebratory lunch. I only hope all this hasn't spoiled their day – they might…”

“And the other man…?” Alan interrupted, before Leo began a lengthy explanation about how the diners might demand a refund.

“Oh yes, sorry, the other man,” Leo said, glancing around the room. “No. I am afraid he isn't here. He must have left before the commotion began.”

“What can you tell us about him?” Agnes asked.

The manager stared at her and threw out his arms. “Like what? I don't know our diners personally.”

“For instance, had he booked a table in advance? In which case, you would have his name. Or had he just walked in on the off-chance you would have a table free? Was he alone, or was someone accompanying him?”

While Agnes was reeling off her questions, Alan moved towards Andrews. Pointing to the man Leo had mentioned, he told his sergeant to have a few words with him.

“Ask him if he recalls seeing anyone else in the men's room. It seems he went out there at about the same time as our victim.” Alan then glanced across at the detective constable, who was talking to a couple sitting at a table near the door. “Also, try to keep an eye on Morris. I'm still not sure about him.”

Andrews nodded, before moving away.

Alan re-joined Agnes in time to hear the manager's reply.

“Oh, I see what you mean, madam,” Leo said, clasping his hands together. “No, no, no, the gentleman had not booked a table. He just happened to rush through the door and, before I had a chance to welcome him properly, as is my custom you understand, he asked whether we had a table free.”

“So, I take it you had a table free,” Alan said.

“No! I did not.” He screwed up his eyes. “Well, not really…”

“Well then, how did he end up in here?” Alan sounded frustrated.

“If you will let me finish, Chief Inspector,” said Leo, wringing his hands together. “The gentleman said that he had heard such good reports about our restaurant that he wanted to try it for himself – with a full a la carte menu. Therefore, Chief Inspector, how could I possibly say no? Head Office insists that we, the managers, should be instrumental in bringing new customers into the restaurants.”

“But, if you didn't have a table free, how could you possibly say yes?” Alan shook his head. “Don't bother to answer. My guess is that you always keep a table free – just in case.”

“Yes. But, you must understand, all restaurants do this.”

“Okay. So this man had the full a la carte menu, then what? He disappeared into the gents? Maybe he just didn't want to pay.”

“No, no, no! Let me tell you what happened.” Leo sounded agitated again. “Yes, the gentleman ordered the full meal. But immediately after he placed the order, I saw him walking towards the men's room. That is not unusual, it often happens. I thought he would return in in a few minutes. However, as it turns out, I have not seen him since.” Leo raised his hand and brushed a tiny speck of hair from his jacket as he spoke. “Once the first course was served and he hadn't arrived back at the table, I cancelled the rest of his meal. I merely thought he had sneaked out when I wasn't looking.”

“You didn't think to go out to the men's room and check whether he was still in there?”

“No! Why would I?” Leo replied. He blew a sigh. “Chief Inspector, as manager of this restaurant, I am expected to do a great number of things to make sure that everything runs smoothly. However, I am relieved to say that having to check who is, or who is not, in the gentlemen's facilities is not one of them.”

Alan glanced towards the ladies' room, where Dr Nichols and his team were still working. Was it possible that the body lying on the floor in there was the same man who had entered the restaurant without having booked a table?

“Did you notice what this man looked like, or even what he was wearing?” Alan asked. “You know what I mean, anything that would help us identify the man.”

Leo shrugged. “Well, as you know, I do not scrutinize our guests. But yes, maybe I can help a little. Let me see,” he said, as he rested his elbow in one hand and tapped his head. “The man was clean shaven. He had brown hair, neatly cut and parted on the right. He was wearing a navy blue suit, a white shirt and a dark blue tie. His shoes were…” Leo shuddered, “he was wearing those trainer things. Not what you would see in a high-class restaurant. Also, he was wearing a watch on his right wrist.”

“That's great, thank you, Leo. I think you should attend to your customers. They seem to be becoming a little edgy.” But then, as Leo moved away, another thought popped into Alan's mind. “Before you go, Leo – did anyone else arrive at the restaurant shortly after the man in question?”

Leo placed his hand on his chin while he thought for a moment. “Yes.”

Alan perked up and looked at the people seated at the tables. “Is that person still here and, if so, can you point them out to me?”

Leo chuckled. “It was a woman and, yes, she is still here. She is standing right beside you.”

“Okay, thanks, Leo, you can go now.”

Alan looked at Agnes, as the manager hurried off to speak to his customers. She was wearing a large grin and shaking her head.

“What?” He raised his shoulders as he spoke. “It was a fair question – the killer might have watched him enter the restaurant and then decided to follow him.”

“Yes, you're right. And, who knows, I could be the killer.”

“Don't say that – not even in fun. Someone could get the wrong impression.” Alan glanced behind him as he spoke, hoping no one was listening. “But, getting back to Leo, I was right, he certainly doesn't miss anything. If only all our witnesses were so observant.” He sighed and gestured towards the ladies' room. “His description fits the man lying in there – right down to the watch on his right wrist.”

Agnes nodded. “Yes, it does. It sounds to me as though the victim knew he was being followed and rushed into the restaurant hoping to lose them. But, as it turns out, it didn't work. The killer must have rounded the corner in time to see him disappear through the door.”

Alan glanced around the restaurant, seeking out his two detectives. Hopefully, they were picking up information which would help solve the case. Morris was first to come into view. He was chatting quite intensely to an attractive, blonde-haired young waitress; only pausing for one brief moment to write something in his notebook. The DCI blew a sigh. He hoped that Morris was noting what the waitress had seen in the last hour, rather than taking details of how to contact her for a date. But, knowing Morris the way he did, Alan felt it was most probably the latter.

Shaking his head, in an effort to dismiss Morris from his thoughts, the DCI turned away and sought out Andrews. At least he could rely on his sergeant. Though, only a few months ago, he thought he was going to lose him.

Sandra, Andrews's fiancée, had been troubled at the number of hours he spent at work. So alarmed at the thought he might lose her, Andrews had considered leaving the force to seek a job with more normal working hours. However, after Alan had given him a few words of advice, Andrews had talked it over with Sandra and it seemed to have worked. The young couple were still together and planning their wedding and Andrews was still his detective sergeant.

To this day, Alan still didn't understand why he had even considered advising his sergeant on his relationship with Sandra. His own love life certainly wasn't anything to crow about. He and his wife had divorced shortly after they were married. Everything they had going for each other had fallen apart after the wedding. Since then, he'd had a few other relationships. Yet none had lasted very long.

Now he was with Agnes, the woman he met at school all those years ago and who he had never forgotten. Yet, even so, they'd had a few problems over the last eighteen months which, he would be the first to admit, were mainly his fault. Nevertheless, they were still together and that was all that mattered.

Sergeant Andrews was still speaking to the large group of people who had gathered at the restaurant for a celebratory lunch. Alan clicked his tongue at that last thought – celebratory lunch. This was certainly going to be a day that none of them would forget.

“I'll be back in a minute,” Alan said to Agnes, before heading off to join his sergeant.

Chapter Four

While she was waiting for Alan to return, Agnes looked towards the door and retraced her steps from when she first entered the restaurant. She hoped she might recall seeing something unusual. But everything had looked normal. Turning back to face the corridor which led to the restrooms, she looked up at the small, brilliantly lit glass notice above the archway. The words Ladies and Gents were written in bold lettering, but there was no mention of an emergency exit.

Until now, she had always believed that an emergency exit would be down that corridor. Maybe the murdered man had assumed much the same thing. Agnes began to move towards the corridor to take a look for herself. However, she hadn't got very far before one of the uniformed officers held up his hand to stop her from going any further.

“Sorry,” she said, taking a step back. “But can you just tell me whether there are any other doors leading off from that corridor, other than the two leading to the ladies' and gents' rooms?”

The officer stared at her for a long moment, before taking a couple of steps backwards into the corridor. He glanced up and down, hardly taking his eyes off her for more than a second, before shuffling back into position.

“No, there are no other doors,” he said. “Only the two you mentioned.”

“Thank you,” Agnes replied.

“Is it important?”

“It might be,” she replied.

She turned away and looked around the restaurant. There had to be another exit somewhere in the restaurant; if for no other reason than as a means of escape should there ever be a fire. All buildings had to have a fire escape these days. Health and Safety had seen to that.

It was then that her eyes were drawn towards another, much narrower archway behind the counter. It was partly hidden due to the large desk, which held the restaurant's computer, only a few feet in front of it. As there was nearly always someone using the computer at the desk, or diners paying for their meals, it meant that the corridor was blocked from sight most of the time. However, above the arch was a small sign showing the figure of a running man. Two words were printed underneath, Emergency Exit, again in bold lettering, but the lettering was smaller.

This was the first time Agnes had noticed that particular corridor. But then, why would she? It was so narrow, it could almost have been a tunnel dug out as an afterthought. Thankfully, both she and Alan had never needed to look for another way out of the building. But, getting back to the victim, if he had rushed into the restaurant to escape from someone and had ordered a meal before finding another exit, it was little wonder he had taken the wrong corridor. Maybe, finding himself with nowhere to go, he assumed hiding in the ladies' room would put his assailant off the scent? If so, his ploy hadn't worked.

But the solution to the problem regarding the emergency exit only left Agnes with another puzzle to solve.

As the killer clearly hadn't followed the victim into the restaurant, how could they possibly have known where to find him? Perhaps they were watching through the restaurant window as the victim headed off down the corridor and the assailant was already aware there was no exit down there?

But, even so, how on earth could they have known that their victim, a male, had entered the ladies' room?

Chapter Five

The DCI and his two detectives were now on their way back to the station. Alan was silent as he drove down John Dobson Street towards the quayside. He was mulling over the events of the afternoon. He would have liked to have had a few words with the pathologist before he left but, as the body had been carried through the restaurant and out of the main entrance, Alan hadn't wanted to hold up the proceedings any longer than necessary.

Seeing a body being lifted past the diners during their meal was bad enough, without him holding up the van's departure while he spoke to Dr Nichols. Therefore, as the forensic team were still at the crime scene, he had made a point of speaking to Derek, the man in charge. Alan requested that fingerprints of everyone in the restaurant, staff and diners alike, should be taken and checked against those found in the ladies' room, though it appeared Dr Nichols had left the same instructions. However, Derek warned the DCI that, as there were so many prints in the ladies' room, it might be impossible to trace them. “Some of the prints on the doors are on top of others – they could be days old.”

Agnes had left the restaurant some time earlier. But, she had relayed her thoughts to him before leaving and he had spoken to the diners seated nearest to the windows. His first question, as to whether anyone had noticed the man who was the last to arrive, had resulted in everyone shaking their heads. However, when he asked whether anyone recalled seeing someone peering through the window, a young couple told him that they had seen a man holding his hands against the glass as he looked inside.

Though the man hadn't taken much notice, the woman was able to tell him that the man outside the window was in his late twenties and was wearing what looked like a black T-shirt, with a large picture of a skull on the front. He was also wearing a denim jacket and a pair of faded blue jeans, torn around the knees. However, the reason her attention had been drawn to him was because he had a ring through his nose.

“You know what I mean? The sort of thing you see on a bull,” she had said, pointing towards the septum in the centre of her nose. “It was so large, it made my eyes water.”

On its own, the information really wasn't much to go on – apart from the nose ring, which could prove to be useful. However, the rest of her description, a T-shirt, a skull and torn jeans, fitted a great number of young men in Newcastle these days. Nevertheless, knowing that someone had peered through the window certainly supported Agnes's theory that the victim had been watched while entering the restaurant. Then, whoever it was had taken a closer look once the victim had headed towards the corridor. But, like Agnes, he was puzzled as to how the killer had known exactly where to find his victim, especially as the officer had reported that the window in the gent's had not been tampered with.

After taking a look at the photograph on Alan's mobile, the restaurant manager had confirmed that the victim was the same man who had swept into the restaurant without a booking. Even so, the DCI and his team still needed to learn the identity of the man. At his request, Keith had checked the victim's jacket and trouser pockets, but had found nothing to identify him. Though there were a few coins stuffed into a pocket, there was no driving licence, or wallet holding bank notes and credit cards; something Alan had found very strange. How had he intended to pay for the meal he had ordered?

By now, they had reached the station and Alan swiftly pulled up in his parking spot near the entrance.

“Morris, I would like you to join us in the office. We'll go through what we've all learned during our time at the restaurant, before we head off to the incident room and bring everyone up to speed,” he said, as he pressed the button on his car key to lock the doors. Maybe Morris had learned something useful from the waitress, after spending so much time with her.

“So, what can you tell us, Morris?” Alan asked, once they were all seated in the office. “Did you learn anything useful during your inquiries?”

“No, I'm afraid the customers I spoke to weren't very helpful. No one had heard or seen anything – most of them hadn't even spotted the man walking in.”

He paused, while he pulled his notebook from his pocket and flicked through the pages.

“However,” Morris continued, glancing up from his pad, “one of the waitresses, who had only signed in about thirty or forty minutes before the man hurried into the restaurant, told me that she had seen a disturbance in Northumberland Street. Apparently, a couple of men were arguing about something, but then it suddenly turned into a fight. She also said that, even though she had hurried past the gathering crowds, not wanting to get involved in a brawl, she felt certain that one of the men in the fight was the same man who had arrived at the restaurant without having previously booked a table.”

Morris closed his notebook with a snap and gave a huge smile as he looked up at the DCI, almost as though he was expecting a medal.

However, Alan was not at all impressed.

“Why the hell didn't you tell me this while were at the restaurant?” Alan thumped his fist on his desk so hard that his mug fell to the floor, spilling the remainder of his morning coffee over the thin grey carpet. “I could have had a word with her. With the right questions, she might have been able to tell us more.”

“I… I don't think she knew any more, sir,” Morris faltered. “I asked her whether she might have seen the man in the restaurant anywhere else at some other time, but she said she didn't think so.”

“She didn't think so?” Alan stormed. “And you left it there! For heaven's sake, that doesn't mean she definitely hadn't seen him before. A few more questions about what pubs or discos she used might have jolted her memory. Also, if she had seen the men arguing before it developed into a fight, surely that must mean she had been watching the disturbance for quite a while before 'hurrying past'!” Alan made quotation marks in the air as he spoke. “There is also the possibility that she had made a note of the time, especially if she didn't want to be late on duty at the restaurant. If so, it might have fitted in with the timing of the call to the station, informing the police of a commotion in the city centre. Furthermore, she might also have been able to tell us a little about the other man involved in the incident. Did you think to ask her for a description of the other man? If it were ever to come to a line-up, maybe she would be able to identify him.”

“No. I didn't want to push her too hard. Women get upset at that sort of thing.”

Alan held his breath for a moment to stop himself from exploding.

“Did she say anything about how the man looked when he entered the restaurant?” Alan continued. “I mean, wouldn't he have looked a little dishevelled, if he had been in a fight? Did you even think to ask her?”

“No.” Morris looked down at the floor and shuffled his feet. “Is it important?”

Alan glanced at Andrews and rolled his eyes, before staring back at Morris. “Is it important? Let me explain – Leo, the manager who greeted the man when he first entered the restaurant looking for a table, never misses a thing. Therefore, I'm pretty sure that if the man had walked in looking like someone who had just been in a fight, he would have mentioned it to me. Come to think of it, I doubt he would even have allowed him in, especially as he didn't have a table booked. So, if it was the same man the waitress saw fighting in Northumberland Street, it means he must have found somewhere to clean himself up, before walking into the restaurant. The time difference could be important!”

Alan swung his chair around to face his sergeant. “Get on the phone to the restaurant and find out whether the waitress is still there.” He paused and glanced back at Morris. “Did you by any chance get her name?”

“Rose Arrowsmith,” Morris quickly replied, without needing to open his notebook. “But she told me that people call her Rosie, because of her rosy cheeks.”

“Yes, I was certain you would have taken note of that. I suppose you have her home address and phone number, too.”

Morris looked down towards the floor. “Yes,” he mumbled.

“Check with Leo,” Alan said, looking across at Andrews. “Ask whether she is still on duty. If so, tell him to ask her to wait until one of our detectives arrives, as we need to have a few more words with her.” He paused for a moment. “No, wait. Get him on the phone and I'll speak to him.”

Alan shook his head as he turned back to Morris. “I saw you talking to the waitress for quite a while. I had hoped that you were gathering information regarding the case. But I was wrong. I think it best if you go to the incident room and join your colleagues.”

Morris rose to his feet. “What will happen to me now?”

“At this moment, I honestly don't know,” Alan replied, slowly. He sat back in his chair and studied the young detective standing in front of him. “You know, after your undercover work at the hotel a few months ago, I really thought you had the makings of a good detective. You appeared to have changed from your high-school attitude and become one of the team. But then, you allowed yourself to be bribed into passing on information about scenes where crimes had taken place.”

“It was just as I told you back then. I'd run up a few debts in a couple of night clubs and needed the money,” Morris shuffled his feet as he spoke.

Alan shook his head. However, before he could say anything further, Andrews held up his phone.

“I've finally managed to get through, sir,” Andrews said. He glanced at Morris, before looking back at the DCI. “I have the manager on the line.”

“Thank you.” Alan held out his hand to take the phone. “Meanwhile, take Morris down to the incident room. I'll be there in a few minutes.”

Alan waited until his sergeant had escorted Morris from the room and the door was firmly closed, before he spoke. “Leo, this is DCI Johnson. After speaking to one of my detectives, I believe we really need to have a few more words with one of your waitresses. Her name is Rose Arrowsmith. Can you check when she goes off duty? I'll hold on.”

It almost seemed that Leo had the the staff rota tattooed in his brain, as he replied immediately without having to look it up. “Rose will be here until seven o'clock this evening.”

“Okay, I'm sending a detective to speak to her. Now, listen carefully, Leo. I understand that you like to be open with your employees but, in this case, I don't want you to mention a word of this conversation to Ms. Arrowsmith or any other employee. Let's keep this between ourselves until my man gets there.”

Once Leo had happily agreed to the proposal, Alan reached across and replaced the receiver on Andrews' phone. He then sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Where the hell he had gone wrong? A DCI was supposed to be an inspiration to his men. Show them how to be good detectives and follow the law while apprehending their man. Yet, in the case of Morris, he had failed. Nevertheless, Alan had overlooked his indiscretion and kept him on. Even so, since then, Alan had never fully trusted Morris and had placed him on desk duty, where he could keep an eye on him, until today. Today, he had given him another chance. However, instead of interviewing a witness dutifully, he had tried to date her.

Was this the time to show Morris the door?

Chapter Six

When Agnes had left the restaurant, Alan and his detectives were still investigating the murder. Slowly making her way back to Northumberland Street, thoughts of what had occurred over the last couple of hours kept running through her head. She really needed to sit down somewhere and think it all through while it was still fresh in her mind.

Strolling into the first café she came to, she found a vacant table and sat down. She glanced at the shelves behind the counter. The thought of a large glass of red wine from the bottle which appeared to be gazing down at her, was certainly very tempting. However, wanting to keep her head clear at the moment, she looked away and ordered an extra strong coffee and a ham and cheese sandwich.

She shivered as she cast her mind back to the moment she had found the lifeless body lying on the cold, tiled floor. Though, quite honestly she wasn't sure why she should shiver. This wasn't the first time she had discovered a body. She had stumbled across a few in the past eighteen months or so. Surely she ought to be getting used to it by now. But then, how could anyone get used to finding a dead body…?

Hurriedly moving away from the actual crime scene, Agnes brought to mind the possibilities she had considered when wondering how the man had ended up in the ladies' room. She recalled that she had ended up with two options. Had the man taken the wrong corridor believing there was an exit down there? Or, had he noticed a man following him out into the corridor and had ducked into the ladies' room hoping to lose him? She had discussed these thoughts with Alan. But, while he appeared to have taken them on board, would he look into them, or simply dismiss her concepts as not feasible?

Agnes looked up as the waitress arrived with her order.

“Thank you,” she said, with a smile.

Now however, as she stared down at the large mug of strong black coffee and the pitiful sandwich sitting on the plate together with a gathering of green leaves and half a tomato, she wondered whether a large glass of red wine might have been the better option after all.

* * *

The DCI's team, including Jones and Smithers who were back from their assignment with the superintendent, were gathered around the board when Alan walked through the door of the incident room. He couldn't help noticing that Morris was standing a few feet further back from the rest of the team. Sergeant Andrews, who had been talking to the detectives, hurried over to join him.

“Did Morris say anything further after you both left the room?” Alan whispered, raising his eyebrows.

Andrews shook his head. “Not a word.”

“Okay.” Alan raised his voice as he turned and looked at the group standing in front of him. “As you are all aware, a man was found dead in a restaurant just off Northumberland Street. He had been shot. The body was found lying on the floor in the ladies' room. And,” he added, when there were a few giggles from some of the detectives, “I would appreciate it if you stopped sniggering and took the matter seriously.”

Alan held up a photograph of the man's face, before pinning it to the evidence board in front of him. He had taken the shot using his mobile phone while at the scene of the crime and had forwarded it to the IT team at the station, to be copied and printed ready to hand out to his detectives.

“We'll have more detailed photos from the forensic team shortly. However, in the meantime, does anyone here recognise this man?”

Everyone in the room took a few steps closer to the board to see the photo more clearly, but they all shook their heads. Alan had guessed, even before he asked the question, that it was a longshot. But he had absolutely nothing else to go on and was desperately looking for somewhere to start. Once he had gone through what little he knew about the case, and everyone had expressed their thoughts, his phone rang. The call was from the desk sergeant. Apparently Dr Keith Nichols had arrived a few minutes ago and was waiting in his office.

Alan thrust the photos into his sergeant's hand, asking him to pass them around. “Keith is waiting in my office,” he said. “Join me the moment you're done here.”

But, before leaving, he took the time to give some instructions to Smithers and Jones, telling them to go to Alberto's restaurant and speak to Rose Arrowsmith. He went on to say that she wasn't a suspect, but that she might be able to help with what she saw on her way to work this morning.

While Alan was aware it didn't take two detectives to interview one waitress, he was also mindful of how well the two men worked together. They had a knack for procuring information from witnesses, even when they themselves didn't realise they knew anything of importance.

A few minutes later, Alan arrived back in his office where he found Keith already settled in a chair in front of his desk. The pathologist swung around when he heard someone enter.

“I gather you wanted to see me,” Alan said, as he strode over to his desk. “Does this mean you've found something new?”