of exhaustion as far as she could tell.
‘Bullshit. What’s up with you?’
‘Nothing!’ she protested, in a voice slightly higher than normal.
‘You don’t need to worry about me, Grey, I’m fine. Just a little tired.’
‘Well that’s lovely, but I really am starving. Come on.’ She walked out, knowing he would be following behind her. She had to remind herself not to be too nice to Adrian. Not to arouse suspicion. He had been there for her before, now it was her turn to be there for him. They were a package deal, her and Adrian. She always felt in safe hands around him somehow – they were more than colleagues; they were friends.
Outside, she opened the car door and got in – less than ten seconds later Adrian was sitting in the passenger seat, resigned to doing as he was told. They drove to the Guildhall and parked in the multistorey before walking to the centre and ordering lunch at the jacket potato vendor. They sat on the low-lying wall and ate in silence for a few minutes. This was all a strange feeling for Imogen, aside from her mother she had never looked after someone before, not like this. She was genuinely concerned that Adrian was hurting and she wanted to make his pain go away. Knowing that she had no control over that, she tried to control the things she could, like making sure he ate. It beat thinking about her own problems.
‘OK, you were right, I feel better,’ Adrian said eventually.
‘Me too. Let’s go and see this Carmichaels place and The Bay Tree restaurant then. Let’s also hope she didn’t travel out of town for her date or we will have a shitload more restaurants to get through.’
‘That’s the spirit!’
They walked through the arch onto the high street, then down to the cathedral square which was still partially cordoned off due to the horrific fire that had ripped through the Royal Clarence Hotel, the oldest hotel in England, in fact the first building to use the term ‘hotel’ in England. The hotel had collapsed in on itself after burning for over twenty-four hours in October 2016. Now it was just a façade, the interior completely obliterated. No floors, walls or ceilings, just a charred empty box on the inside. In the corner of the square, tucked out of the way was a small restaurant with a blue exterior called The Bay Tree, and on the opposite side of the square was Carmichaels, a burgundy-fronted restaurant. As much as it would make sense for them to split up, it was better to go to both places together, see if anyone was behaving strangely when they were shown the photo. It meant that one of them could keep an eye on things while the other one did the talking.
They walked into The Bay Tree as the staff were clearing the tables after a lunchtime rush. They offered a reasonable set lunch menu and Imogen made a mental note to remember it if she ever went on a date again. Now that Dean was gone she didn’t see much chance of that. There was a Mediterranean smell about the place, lemon juice and olive oil, fresh coriander and salad vegetables. A flustered blonde waitress with pink cheeks and a glistening forehead approached them.
‘Table for two?’
‘Ah, no thanks.’ Imogen flashed her warrant card.
The waitress’s eyes widened in surprise, followed by an irritated huff, obviously annoyed at their timing.
‘We need to ask you a couple of questions. Were you working here on Thursday night last week?’ Adrian said.
‘No, I wasn’t, sorry, but Tanya was. I’ll get her for you.’ She seemed relieved that they wouldn’t need to speak to her. She forced a smile and disappeared back into the kitchen, scuffing her ballet pumps along the ground as she went.
A few moments later another woman appeared. She looked around thirty years old and had cropped black hair, so pristine that it looked painted on.
‘Jenny said you wanted to ask something about last Thursday? Tanya Maslin.’ She nodded and folded her arms.
‘I don’t suppose you remember this woman coming in for dinner last week?’ Imogen held up her phone; she had a taken a photo of a photo in Erica Lawson’s house. ‘She would have eaten …’
‘Oysters. Yeah, she was here.’
‘You remember her?’
‘Oh yeah, she was quite tipsy when she left; they drank a lot of wine.’
‘I don’t suppose you remember who she was with?’
‘A man, blond, shoulder-length hair, about six feet two I reckon. He was early forties, I think.’
‘That’s a good memory you’ve got there.’
Tanya Maslin shrugged.
‘Do you remember anything else about him?’ Adrian asked.
‘He was cute. Cuter than her.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean he was a solid nine and she was a six.’
‘Wow, OK.’ Imogen rolled her eyes.
‘OK, a seven. But he was definitely out of her league. Probably why I noticed them. I can’t get a date but a girl like that can? Ridiculous.’
Imogen shook off the urge to shout at this woman who seemed to think she was in a position to judge other people, or at least other women. Imogen had known plenty of women like her in her time. Women who saw other women as competition, constantly looking for advantages over them, for flaws to exploit. Imogen couldn’t imagine anything more lonely or insecure.
‘Do you think you would be able to describe him to a sketch artist?’ she asked.
‘Maybe. He kept his head down a lot, his hair was pretty unruly as well. I got the feeling he was trying not to be seen; he asked to be seated in that corner over there. Normally when men behave like that it’s because they’re out with their bit of fluff but, in this situation, I don’t think so. I can’t imagine anyone cheating with a girl like her. I mean, you usually trade up, don’t you? Why do you want to find him?’
Imogen bit her tongue before responding. ‘We need to speak to him with regards to an ongoing investigation.’
A look of realisation dawned on Tanya’s face. ‘Wait, she was that girl in the news, wasn’t she? I knew I recognised her from somewhere else too!’
‘Do you have their card receipt or anything?’ Imogen asked.
‘No, he paid in cash. I remember because it’s quite unusual and he gave me a huge tip. You don’t think it was him, do you?’ she said in an incredulous tone.
Imogen didn’t get the impression the woman was particularly bothered about having served a murderer. It was more likely that she couldn’t quite believe that someone who was attractive would do something like that. She had been quite open about the fact that she thought Erica Lawson was not pretty enough for this good-looking stranger that she had barely met.
‘We just need to eliminate him from our inquiries.’
‘So, what do I do now?’ Tanya asked.
Imogen pulled out her notebook and pen.
‘I’ll
