Page 93 of The Scene of the Crime
‘I believe he is hiding something. It is odd that the CCTV cameras went down at the garage the night the car was set alight, for instance.’
‘There’s also the missing petrol can.’
‘Yes, but we can’t prove he stole it.’
He slapped his hand on the steering wheel in exasperation. ‘Why are you defending him, after what he did to you?’
‘For Christ’s sake, don’t you start as well,’ Jessica retorted. ‘What Palmer did to me has nothing to do with the current investigation.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
She took a deep breath. ‘I just think it might be worth interviewing Palmer again. Now he’s had time to think about things, he might be more forthcoming.’
‘There are legal issues around questioning a suspect after they’ve been charged unless new information has come to light.’
‘What about speaking to Palmer, off the record.’
‘I’m not putting my job on the line for him.’
‘But you’ll let him go to prison for a crime he might not have committed.’
‘Palmer should have thought of the consequences before he got involved,’ he said stubbornly.
‘Look, can we just drop it for now, go to the pub and make some enquiries?’ Chapman said, trying for a more conciliatory tone. Jessica didn’t reply, and neither spoke for the rest of the journey to the pub.
Ten minutes later they passed The Bell, as Chapman drove slowly along Leytonstone High Road, looking for a parking spot. Two large signs said ‘All the Great Sporting Action – Sky Sports’ and by the front entrance was a large blackboard sign saying ‘Live Karaoke Every Friday, Regular Bingo, Live Bands and Quizes’, spelt with one z.
Chapman eventually found a parking space and asked Jessica if she had the RingGo app on her phone to pay online. ‘Can’t you put a police sticker on the dashboard?’
‘I would normally. But around here, it’ll get the car keyed or the tyres slashed.’
‘That’s good to know. Are we likely to get mugged as well?’ she said, raising her eyebrows.
‘I did say it was a rough area, but you insisted on coming.’
‘No. You said the pub was a bit of a dive, and if the outside is anything to go by, you were right.’
‘You can wait in the car if you want.’
‘If it’s going to be vandalised, I’d rather come with you.’ He laughed, the tension between them broken.
* * *
The Bell was a traditional pub with an open interior and large arches leading to a dining area on one side and a pool table and darts board on the other. The long bar was wood with several bar stools in front of it and tables and chairs to one side. It was only 6.30 and the pub was quiet; a few people were sitting at the bar, and some were in the dining area having a meal. The decor was a bit run down, but the inside was reasonably clean and tidy. Jessica noticed TVs on nearly every wall, showing different sports.
‘There’s more TVs in here than Currys,’ Jessica said, which made Chapman smile.
‘What’ll you have to drink?’ he asked.
‘A glass of Sauvignon Blanc if they’ve got it,’ she said. While he was getting the drinks, Chapman discreetly showed the young barmaid his warrant card and asked to speak to the landlord or landlady. She told him the manager was away on a golf trip, but his wife Pauline was out the back and she’d fetch her.
Chapman and Jessica sat at a corner table, and after a couple of minutes, a lady with short-cut blonde hair in her early fifties approached them and introduced herself as Pauline Holland, the landlady.
‘How can I help you, officers?’ she asked.
Chapman leaned forward, speaking quietly. ‘We were wondering if you had anyone in here trying to sell a watch on Monday or Tuesday just gone.’
‘What sort of watch?’
