didn’t recognise you before. You were the one came to our flat, weren’t you? The one told Sheena about Marion, right?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Well, what the fuck were you doing at the pub? What’s going on here?’
‘I came back to ask you some questions about Marion, and we saw you going into the pub.’
‘She was with you, that woman?’
Kathy nodded.
‘But she never said she was a copper. She never mentioned Marion. What the fuck’s going on?’
Brock cut in. ‘What’s going on here is that you’ve been arrested for drugging a woman in a pub and trying to abduct her. So answer my question, Mr Rafferty. What’s your version of what happened in the pub this evening?’
But Rafferty just sat back, shaking his head. ‘Oh no. This ain’t right. I’m not saying nothing till I’ve spoken to a solicitor.’
‘Your refusal to cooperate will go against you.’
‘Uh-uh. Not a word.’
‘Very well, we can arrange for a duty—’
‘No thanks,’ Rafferty sneered. ‘I’ll make my own arrangements, thanks.’
‘We’ll speak to you again first thing in the morning, Mr Rafferty. In the meantime, think very carefully about what you’re going to tell us.’
When they got outside, Brock said, ‘Go home, Kathy. Get some rest. You look all in.’
‘I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have let it happen.’
‘We’ll sort it out. The fact is, they’re both up to their ears in it. Let’s hope they can lift Rafferty’s prints from the bag of pills.’
‘I’d like to speak to the publican at the Three Bells. I saw him watching me when I went in, trying to find Pip.’
‘I’ll do that, Kathy. You go home. That’s an order.’
He watched her get into her car, then headed for his own.
•
The Three Bells seemed subdued when he pushed through the doors, with only a few customers huddled at tables. The band on the tiny stage at the back was in the final stages of packing up their gear. They looked fed up.
Brock went to the bar, picking out an older man at the till and nodding to him.
The man noted him with a frown. ‘What now?’
‘DCI Brock. And you’re Mr Cornford?’ He’d seen the licensee’s name over the door.
‘That’s right. You lot trying to put me out of business?’
‘A young woman was almost raped here tonight, Mr Cornford.’
‘So you say.’
‘Do you know Keith Rafferty?’
‘He’s a local, comes in a fair bit.’
‘And Brendan Crouch?’
‘Didn’t know his name, but he’s often with Rafferty.’
Brock watched one of the other barmen drawing a pint.
‘Fancy one?’ Cornford said.
‘Saw the look in my eye, did you?’
The publican smiled.
‘Yes, it’s been a long day.’ Brock unbuttoned his coat and sat heavily on a stool. ‘Have one yourself.’ He put a tenner on the bar, watching the golden liquid foam into the straight glass. ‘Has this happened before?’
‘Drink-spiking? Get it all the time, young lads slipping an extra double vodka into their girl’s mixer.’
‘What about pills?’
‘Pills are everywhere you look these days.’ He hesitated, then went on, ‘Couple of weeks ago a young woman came in, Saturday lunchtime, said her friend had been drugged and raped the night before, after coming in here. When I talked to her she was a bit confused. They’d been to at least two other pubs, then got separated. When she found her friend later she was in a bit of a mess. I told her to go to the cops if she thought something bad had happened. I don’t think she did.’
‘Two weeks ago?’
‘Maybe three now.’
‘Know their names?’
Cornford shook his head.
‘Was Rafferty in that night?’
‘Friday night, bound to have been.’
Brock thanked him, drained his pint and left. When he got in his car he put a call through to DI Bren Gurney.
six
K athy drove a few blocks away from the Ealing police station before pulling in to the kerb. She got out her phone and keyed in Nicole Palmer’s
‘That’s right.’
‘Well, what the fuck were you doing at the pub? What’s going on here?’
‘I came back to ask you some questions about Marion, and we saw you going into the pub.’
‘She was with you, that woman?’
Kathy nodded.
‘But she never said she was a copper. She never mentioned Marion. What the fuck’s going on?’
Brock cut in. ‘What’s going on here is that you’ve been arrested for drugging a woman in a pub and trying to abduct her. So answer my question, Mr Rafferty. What’s your version of what happened in the pub this evening?’
But Rafferty just sat back, shaking his head. ‘Oh no. This ain’t right. I’m not saying nothing till I’ve spoken to a solicitor.’
‘Your refusal to cooperate will go against you.’
‘Uh-uh. Not a word.’
‘Very well, we can arrange for a duty—’
‘No thanks,’ Rafferty sneered. ‘I’ll make my own arrangements, thanks.’
‘We’ll speak to you again first thing in the morning, Mr Rafferty. In the meantime, think very carefully about what you’re going to tell us.’
When they got outside, Brock said, ‘Go home, Kathy. Get some rest. You look all in.’
‘I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have let it happen.’
‘We’ll sort it out. The fact is, they’re both up to their ears in it. Let’s hope they can lift Rafferty’s prints from the bag of pills.’
‘I’d like to speak to the publican at the Three Bells. I saw him watching me when I went in, trying to find Pip.’
‘I’ll do that, Kathy. You go home. That’s an order.’
He watched her get into her car, then headed for his own.
•
The Three Bells seemed subdued when he pushed through the doors, with only a few customers huddled at tables. The band on the tiny stage at the back was in the final stages of packing up their gear. They looked fed up.
Brock went to the bar, picking out an older man at the till and nodding to him.
The man noted him with a frown. ‘What now?’
‘DCI Brock. And you’re Mr Cornford?’ He’d seen the licensee’s name over the door.
‘That’s right. You lot trying to put me out of business?’
‘A young woman was almost raped here tonight, Mr Cornford.’
‘So you say.’
‘Do you know Keith Rafferty?’
‘He’s a local, comes in a fair bit.’
‘And Brendan Crouch?’
‘Didn’t know his name, but he’s often with Rafferty.’
Brock watched one of the other barmen drawing a pint.
‘Fancy one?’ Cornford said.
‘Saw the look in my eye, did you?’
The publican smiled.
‘Yes, it’s been a long day.’ Brock unbuttoned his coat and sat heavily on a stool. ‘Have one yourself.’ He put a tenner on the bar, watching the golden liquid foam into the straight glass. ‘Has this happened before?’
‘Drink-spiking? Get it all the time, young lads slipping an extra double vodka into their girl’s mixer.’
‘What about pills?’
‘Pills are everywhere you look these days.’ He hesitated, then went on, ‘Couple of weeks ago a young woman came in, Saturday lunchtime, said her friend had been drugged and raped the night before, after coming in here. When I talked to her she was a bit confused. They’d been to at least two other pubs, then got separated. When she found her friend later she was in a bit of a mess. I told her to go to the cops if she thought something bad had happened. I don’t think she did.’
‘Two weeks ago?’
‘Maybe three now.’
‘Know their names?’
Cornford shook his head.
‘Was Rafferty in that night?’
‘Friday night, bound to have been.’
Brock thanked him, drained his pint and left. When he got in his car he put a call through to DI Bren Gurney.
six
K athy drove a few blocks away from the Ealing police station before pulling in to the kerb. She got out her phone and keyed in Nicole Palmer’s
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