Page 72 of One Left Alive
‘On the house, but don’t tell Stan that. It’s the only free drink he’s getting off me this month.’
He walked away, leaving her sipping the Coke and staring at the door to the gents. Finally it opened and Stan walked out looking much cleaner than she’d expected him to.
He stood and stared at her. She nodded her head.
‘Stan, I need to talk to you.’ She pointed to a table in the corner and crossed the room, holding the pint of lager towards him. She saw him glance towards the exit, then back at the drink she was holding. If he’d thought about escaping it had only been for a fleeting moment; instead he followed her and sat down opposite.
‘Morgan.’
‘Stan, let’s not mess around. I know you worked as a gardener for the Potters and the O’Briens. Please can you tell me what you knew about them, what sort of people they were, if they had any problems we might not have been aware of? I want to find out who would kill those families; they deserve justice.’
He stared into his pint, and she tried to keep her voice calm; if she got angry then he’d clam up for definite.
‘I know you don’t really care about anyone except yourself but come on. Saul Potter was a good man from what I’ve been told about him, and he gave you work when a lot of people turned their back on you. Don’t do this for me, do it for them, do it for Saul. He was murdered along with his wife and daughter. He didn’t deserve that, none of them did. So if you know anything—’
‘Saul was a good bloke, you’re right. He never looked down his nose at me. His wife now, she wasn’t such a good person.’
Morgan felt her heart skip a beat. He carried on talking.
‘She was cheating on him; I saw her a few times when he was at work. Carrying on with that pompous prick, it upset me. I didn’t know what to do about it, though, so I didn’t do anything and look what happened.’
‘What was his name?’
‘Barker, Greg Barker. He’s our esteemed mayor. I’m not proud of myself, you know; I wish I’d have done something, but I didn’t know what to do and now they’re dead.’
‘It’s a difficult situation to be in.’
He stared at her; she kept his gaze.
‘That day you saw them, you know you’re the last person we know about to have spoken to them. Can you tell me what they said, how they were with one another?’
‘Saul told me to come back the next day. He said he needed a hand to cut a few of the trees back. He slipped me twenty quid. He was a bit quiet; he said to go up to the house and ask Olivia for something to eat. He was good like that, always made sure I had food when I was there.’
‘He sounds great. And what was Olivia like that day? Was she okay, her usual self?’
He shook his head. ‘Not really, she never liked me much. I could see the way she’d look me up and down, caught her rolling her eyes to her daughters a couple of times. That kind of thing. But she always made me a sandwich and gave me a can of pop. She looked a bit upset that day; her eyes were a bit red as if she’d been crying. Didn’t say much at all, passed me a sandwich, apple, bag of crisps and a can of Vimto then shut the door. She didn’t even give me the chance to say thanks.’
‘Did you see the girls?’
He shook his head. ‘I was about to leave when I heard her phone ring. She was shouting down it to whoever was on the other side. Said they’d ruined her life and she’d make them pay big time. I backed off; it was none of my business. I went back to Carol’s and that was when she decided to throw me out, so I came to the pub and got drunk. You can ask Steve over there, behind the bar. I was here until closing time and then I went to your place. It’s really dark along those lanes; I fell over into the hedgerows a couple of times. Then I realised I was the last person you’d want to see, so I sat at the edge of the drive on that big boulder. Until I was cold and plucked up the courage to knock on your door.’
Morgan had no reason to disbelieve him; he hadn’t faltered once. He hadn’t paused as if trying to decide what to tell her, it had come out with no hesitation.
‘It’s terrible. What about the O’Briens?’
‘Morgan, that was a long time ago. My memory isn’t what it used to be. I’ve drunk a lot of alcohol over the years since that happened and probably killed off more of my brain cells than I can afford to.’
‘I know, but was there anything you can think of at the time that rang bells, that you thought was odd?’
He blew out a long breath. ‘It’s funny you know, I hadn’t really thought about it much, but that Greg Barker was also always sniffing around Jennifer. He worked with her husband Jason. I just thought they were good friends, well until they fell out over money; I was a lot younger back then and had my own fair share of problems. My parents kicked me out of the house when I was seventeen, you know, and I spent a lot of years sofa surfing until I met your mum. Sylvia changed my life for the better; at least she did for a while. But it’s the drink; I’ve always had a problem with it. I tried my best to get off it. I joined the AA and went to the meetings religiously. I was sober for almost ten years.’
‘What happened?’ Morgan didn’t want him to stop talking. They had never had a conversation like this before.
‘Sylvia, she wanted a baby so bad, it was all she talked about. But she would always lose them before she made it to three months. I prayed so hard for a miracle to happen and it did, you came along and Sylvia was in love. She was smitten with you and I got pushed to one side. Before you say anything, I know what I sound like, I was like a spoilt brat. We’d been on our own for so many years with no children, we were both almost forty when you happened. I found it a lot harder to adjust than I imagined. So instead of going home and playing happy families like I should have, like I knew Sylvia wanted, I spent more and more time in the pub. I wasn’t there when she needed me, that day.’
His breath caught in the back of his throat and for the first time in forever she took a good, hard look at the man sitting opposite her. His face was full of deep grooves and lines; his greying hair was almost gone on the top it was so thin. His eyes were a piercing blue, watery with unshed tears. A lump formed in the back of her throat. She’d spent so many years hating him she couldn’t remember a time when she’d loved him and that made her sad. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, and she could feel Stan’s eyes on her as if he, too, was only just realising the woman sitting opposite him was his own flesh and blood. But as much as she longed to continue talking about her mum, she had to focus on the investigation.
‘Stan, did you hear any rumours about the O’Briens’ murders at the time? Did anyone point fingers, gossip, that kind of thing?’
