*****
Harper was chatting to Andrea at one of the booths along the wall when Shap and Butchers arrived. He glanced up and pulled a weary face, got to his feet and met them halfway across the room. ‘Back again?’
‘There a problem?’ said Shap.
‘Just it’s not very good for business. Word gets round.’
‘That’s the trouble with murder. Bloody inconvenient.’
‘Well, have you any idea how long this is going to go on?’ Harper’s frustration was plain.
‘Long as it takes.’ Shap, followed by Butchers, continued over to join Andrea. Harper went behind the bar where the barmaid was re-stocking glasses and bottles, the clinking of the glasses audible above the soft, jazz music that was playing. Norah Jones begging someone to come away with her.
A flick of her eyes was all the greeting they got from Andrea. She lit a cigarette and sat back, left arm crossed over her waist acting as a prop for her other arm.
Shap dragged a chair over from a nearby table, turned it round, straddled it and nodded at the girl. Butchers sat down opposite her on the bench seat, pulling his daybook out and riffling through to the last entry.
‘What do you make of Lee Stone?’ Shap asked.
‘Bad news. I never liked him. They reckon he shot that Gleason lad, don’t they?’ Her eyes sized Shap up, assessing whether the rumours were true.
‘You ever come across Jeremy Gleason?’ Butchers asked.
‘Now and then. He hung about with Lee. I felt sorry for him really.’
‘Why’s that then?’
She shrugged. ‘He was a bit of a loser that’s all, like a big kid really. His eyes were out on stalks when he came in here – couldn’t believe his luck.’
‘He come in often?’
‘No, couple of times, looking for Lee. Did Lee kill him?’
We don’t know.’
‘Tight that.’
‘You saying you think he could have?’ Shap said.
‘I’m not saying ‘owt, I’m asking.’ She lowered her arm to the ashtray, flicked her thumbnail against the tip of the cigarette, dislodging the ash.
‘Did Rosa ever have any bother with Stone?’ said Shap.
‘Don’t think so, she stayed well clear, like the rest of us.’
‘What about Sunday – you see him giving her any hassle? Making a nuisance of himself?’
‘No.’
‘But he did do that?’
‘Don’t you all?’
Shap grinned.
‘You know she was pregnant?’ Butchers put in.
Andrea grimaced, stopping mid-way through a toke on her fag. ‘No. Oh, God.’
‘Any idea who the father might be?’
Andrea shook her head.
‘Anything else you can tell us?’ Shap said.
‘Like what?’
‘Anything you might have remembered, anything sprung to mind?’
