Agnes Lockwood Mysteries Collection: The Complete Series

Excerpt from Agnes Lockwood Mysteries Collection

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!”