The pub was on Bancroft, one of Hitchin’s busiest shopping streets. It looked like it had been an old coaching inn in a previous life. It had black and white timbers and a covered entrance that was big enough for a carriage to pass through. A sign hanging at the front had a picture of a brown hen followed by a line of yellow chicks.
Tommy tried the front door. It was locked. A side door opened just beyond the carriage entrance and a bald head stuck out. It disappeared inside. They walked up into the beer garden and through the open door.
The pub was a bit gloomy and smelt strongly of the night before. There were several crates of alcopops on the floor behind the bar. The bald headed man had obviously been replenishing the shelves.
‘Good morning,’ Mac said showing the man his warrant card.
‘So what’s all this about then?’ the bald man said somewhat defensively. ‘It’s not them down the road complaining about the bloody noise again, is it?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ Mac said. ‘I take it you’re the manager?’
‘Yes, Bob Souter’s the name. Listen it’s not even eight yet and it’s a Sunday morning. I wasn’t planning on working this early but as I’m here I’ve got lots to do…’
‘Were you working here last night?’ Mac asked, interrupting him.
‘Of course, I was here all night. Why?’
Mac showed him the picture.
‘Did you see this girl?’
He showed Bob the photo. He didn’t look at it long.
‘Yes she comes in here quite a bit. What’s her name, now? Starts with an ‘N’ I think, Natalie, no Natasha I think it is. She comes in with Julie.’
‘You know Julie Waddington?’
‘Yes she worked here for a few weeks last Christmas when we were desperate for staff. Good worker, I was hoping she’d want a permanent job but she wanted to finish college…’
A sudden thought seemed to occur to the pub manager.
‘Nothing’s happened to Natasha, has it?’ he said, looking concerned.
‘We hope not but she’s missing,’ Mac replied. ‘She was here last night and left just after nine but she never made it home. Did you see her or notice anything unusual yesterday evening?’
‘Yes, I couldn’t help noticing to be honest, she and Julie had a right up and downer.’
‘What was it about?’
The manager shrugged.
‘No idea. I could hear that they were arguing but, with the music and all, I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Kelly will know though, she was serving at that end of the bar and she’s friends with both of them.’
‘How many staff did you have on last night?’
Bob counted them on his fingers.
‘Besides me, six in all.’
‘Can you phone them all and get them to come here right away.’
‘I’m not sure that they’ll like me calling them this early on a Sunday…’
Bob’s words petered out as Mac gave him a stern look.
‘Okay, I’ll do that right away.’
‘We’ll be back in half an hour,’ Mac said.
Tommy followed him out of the pub.
‘So where next?’
‘That taxi rank over the road. It’s highly likely that’s where Natasha went next when she left the pub last night.’
There were two taxis waiting at the rank. Two men were sitting on the wing of the car at the front of the rank. Mac flashed his warrant card.
‘What firms might have used this rank last night?’
The two drivers looked at each other and shrugged.
‘Why do you want to know?’ the stockier, balder driver asked.
Mac showed them Natasha’s photo.
‘This girl disappeared last night. We’re looking for her.’
They both stood up, their body shape and demeanour had totally changed.
‘Sorry but we only do days,’ the bald driver said looking to his companion, a younger bearded man who nodded in agreement.
‘The question was what firms use this rank on Saturday evenings?’ Mac re-iterated.
‘Just the usual, there’s six local firms who mainly use the rank. Technically if someone dropped off from outside the area, London for instance, they could use the rank too but that doesn’t happen often,’ the bald driver said.
‘Give me the names of the firms,’ Mac said.
Tommy noted down the names.
‘Is there anyone else who might use the rank? ‘Mac asked.
‘We occasionally get a few blaggers,’ the bearded man said.
‘Unlicensed drivers you mean?’
‘Yes. Now and again we get the odd driver who wants to make a few quid on a Saturday night without having the bother of paying for a plate.’
‘What do you do?’ Tommy asked.
‘If we catch them?’ the bald driver asked. ‘We take the license plate and report them. It doesn’t happen that often around here though.’
Mac asked for their names. They gave them and Tommy noted them down. Mac thanked them.
‘So where to now?’ Tommy asked.
‘Well we’ve got a little time and there’s a coffee shop just down the road. Let’s give the pub staff a chance to turn up.’
While they sat and drank their coffee they found the addresses of the taxi firms on the internet and worked out the best way to cover them all. They decided to visit the first one on the way to the Millstream.
They walked back into the pub by the beer garden entrance again. Mac counted them. Five staff and the manager were waiting for them. One was missing.
‘Kelly’s on her way,’ Bob explained. ‘I had a bit of trouble contacting her.’
The staff was comprised of three young men and two girls, all in their early twenties. They looked tired and more than a little uneasy. Mac showed them Natasha’s photo. Four out of the five confirmed that she’d been in the pub the night before but couldn’t add anything beyond that. They’d have to wait for Kelly.
She turned up a few minutes later struggling to catch her breath. She’d obviously been running.
‘I take it you’re Kelly?’ Mac asked.
She nodded but couldn’t get a word out.
‘Please sit down and get your breath back,’ Mac said.
Mac looked at her closely. She was a short girl but quite pretty with auburn hair that cascaded around her shoulders. She definitely didn’t look eighteen but Mac supposed that she must be if she was working in a pub.
‘Sorry,’ she said apologetically. ‘I had to run. There aren’t any buses on a Sunday.’
‘That’s alright,’ Mac said. ‘I believe that you know this girl?’
He showed her the photo.
Kelly’s face went pale and her eyes went wide.
‘That’s Nat!’ she said. ‘Bob said it was about a missing girl. Is it Nat that’s gone missing?’
‘By Nat do you mean Natasha Barker?’
She nodded.
‘Yes, sorry it’s what everyone calls her.’
‘Bob said that you know Natasha. Is that right?’ Mac asked.
‘Well, I know Julie better I suppose but yes, I know Nat.’
‘What’s she like?’
Kelly shrugged her shoulders.
‘Like Nat. She’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met if I’m honest. Julie’s known her forever and she’s absolutely mad about her, I think you’d need to be to put up with her.’
‘Why, is she difficult to get on with?’
‘Oh no, nothing like that, she’s really good fun but she’s just got so much energy and she’s always coming up with new ideas. I honestly don’t think I’d be able keep up with her.’
‘Is she the sort of girl who likes to take chances?’ Mac asked.
‘In what way?’
‘For instance going somewhere with people she didn’t know that well.’
Kelly shook her head.
‘Oh God no! I mean all the boys are after her but she’d have to know someone
for ages before she’d even consider going out with them. I mean it took Adam Oakley six months and then she dumped him four weeks later. That’s what they were arguing about last night.’
‘Bob said Julie and Natasha had a big argument, you’re saying it was about this Adam Oakley?’
‘Yes Julie started seeing him two weeks ago but it took her a while to get up the courage to tell Nat. She knew what would happen and it did. Nat absolutely exploded!’
‘Why was she unhappy with her friend going out with this Adam?’
‘Because he was a total shit, that’s what Nat said. She didn’t say why but she really slagged Julie off for going out with him. She said that she was so much better than that.’
‘Did she say anything else?’ Mac asked.
‘Not really, a bit more in the same vein and then she stormed off. Julie was really upset.’
‘Have you any idea where Natasha might have gone next?’
‘She said she was going to see Corinne somebody at the Millstream.’
‘I take it that she’d have had to use a taxi to get there?’
‘Oh yes, there’s no buses after eight.’
‘Did she say why she was going to meet this Corinne?’ Mac asked.
‘To meet a proper friend, she said. Julie got even more upset when she said that. A little later, when she’d calmed down, Julie said she was going to pop in and see Nat on her way home. She said that Nat would be okay now she’d got it out of the system and they could talk about it properly.’
Mac was thoughtful for a while.
‘If you heard her saying that she was going to the Millstream then other people in the pub must have heard too. Is that right?’
‘God yes, she said it loudly enough.’
‘Was there anyone in here last night who was taking an especial interest in Natasha?’
‘What do you mean?’ Kelly asked, looking even more concerned.
‘Well looking at her I suppose, listening to what she was saying.’
‘Well half the pub was full of men and most of those were looking at her. I don’t know what they see in her unless it was that dress she was wearing. It was black with black lace all across the front and it fitted her fantastically well. It must have been a designer, it was absolutely gorgeous.’
‘So no-one in particular was hovering around her?’ Mac persisted.
‘No, not that I can remember.’
Mac turned to the other staff.
‘Did any of you see anyone taking an interest in Natasha last night?’
They all looked at each other and shook their heads.
‘Okay you’re free to go but you’ll need to give us your names, addresses and contact details before you go.’
‘So not much joy there,’ Tommy said as they walked back to the car.
‘No, let’s hope we can at least find the driver who took her home. We need to get some traction in this case and the sooner the better.’
Chapter Two
The first taxi firm they visited told them that none of their drivers had picked up at the rank between nine and ten. They said that all their drivers were busy from eight until well after eleven just trying to keep up with the phone bookings that came in. It had been a busy night.
The manager of the Millstream was hard at work when they arrived. While they waited for the staff to arrive Mac asked Tommy to drive along the route that Natasha had taken from the pub. They turned right at the lights and drove down a long road that bordered a field on the right hand side. Mac was surprised to see a cow looking back at him from the field. They must have passed twenty or thirty of them before they turned left. Then they turned left again and went back on themselves for quite a distance. Tommy pulled up outside the small block of flats where Natasha lived.
Mac got out his tablet and opened up a map of the area. They’d basically driven around three sides of a long, thin rectangle. Mac had Tommy drive back slowly but he saw no obvious shortcut. He made a mental note for later.
They spent a fruitless half hour at the Millstream interviewing the staff. Some of them had seen Natasha before and two of them knew her from college. No-one had seen her last night. Mac asked the manager to send last night’s CCTV footage from the car park just in case although he wasn’t hopeful.
The second and third taxi firms confirmed that none of their drivers were near the Bancroft rank between nine and ten. They too had been busy keeping up with phone bookings.
The fourth firm didn’t seem to have an office. The address was that of a semi-detached house just off St. Michaels Road. No-one was in.
They had more luck with the last two firms. They got the names and contact details of two drivers who had picked up a fare from the rank between nine and ten. Mac rang the driver who lived nearest.
The phone rang for some time before it was answered.
‘Maureen, you’d better have a bloody good reason for waking me up this early,’ a gruff voice said angrily.
‘This isn’t Maureen. This is the police. We need to speak with you right now. I’ve got your address and we’d like to come around right now if that’s okay.’
‘Why, what’s all this about?’
‘I’ll tell you when we get there if that’s okay.’
The line went silent for a moment.
‘It’s….it’s not Maureen is it? She’s alright, isn’t she?’
‘No it’s nothing to do with Maureen. We’ll see you in five minutes.’
The driver, John Davis, lived in a terraced house down Verulam Road.
An unshaven, pot-bellied man in a dressing gown opened the door. He didn’t say anything but gestured for them to follow him inside. They went into a living room that looked more like a storage space. There were taped up boxes stacked unevenly on top of one another. The sofa looked like it was broken and the coffee table was dusty. The man reappeared with a pint sized mug of tea in his hand.
‘Sorry but I don’t use this room much. Sit down.’
Mac looked at the broken sofa and thought of his back.
‘I’d sooner stand up if you don’t mind.’
‘Suit yourself,’ the taxi driver replied, sitting down in the only serviceable chair in the room.
‘Have you just moved in?’ Mac asked.
‘Eighteen months ago. Just haven’t got around to unpacking things yet.’
‘Divorce was it?’
The man nodded glumly.
‘She took me to the cleaners the cow did. It was her that opened her legs first too,’ he said with real bitterness.
‘Yet you still seemed concerned that something might have happened to her?’ Mac pointed out.
‘Well,’ he said, rubbing his scalp hard with his free hand, ‘I suppose I still feel something for her but God knows why. Anyway if it isn’t about Maureen what is it about?’
‘You picked up a fare last night from the rank on Bancroft around nine thirty. Do you remember?’
His face crinkled with the mental effort it took.
‘Oh yes I remember. We were flying last night, one job after another, I love it when it’s like that. Then around nine thirty we hit a dead spot for some reason. I’d just dropped in Bancroft so I thought I might as well call on the rank until something came up.’
He stopped to take a huge gulp of tea.
‘I was only there for a few minutes when I got a fare. She was going to the Purwell.’
Mac showed him Natasha’s photo.
‘Was this your fare?’
He only needed a quick look.
‘No,’ he said with a confirmed shake of the head. ‘The fare was in her fifties, ugly too. That one’s a bit of a looker, I’d have remembered her.’
Mac wondered why any woman in her right mind would want to divorce such a man as this.
‘Do you remember where you dropped her?’
‘Yes, it was on Fairfield, one of those houses opposite the school.’
‘Did you see any other driver pick up a fare that might have been Nat
asha?’ Mac asked hopefully.
‘Sorry, no. I was the only one on rank at the time.’
Mac thanked him and was glad to leave the man and his house behind.
The door of the fourth house they tried on Fairfield Way was opened by a woman in her fifties. She confirmed that she got a taxi back from the rank on Bancroft the night before. She described the driver to a T.
‘He was a fat slob. He’d have reminded me of Homer Simpson except Homer’s much more handsome.’
‘So that definitely rules Mr. Davis out then,’ Tommy said as they walked back to the car.
‘It would appear so. Let’s try the other one then.’
Tommy rang the number. The driver, a Mr. Tony Hamilton, was up and was happy for them to visit him at home straight away.
Mr. Hamilton lived in a little bungalow on Whitehill Road. It was small, neat and freshly painted. The house inside was just as neat. A short man in his late fifties with his hair already greying led Mac and Tommy into the living room. A plump woman of around the same age was sitting in an armchair. She flashed them a smile.
‘Please sit down,’ Mr. Hamilton said as he gestured towards a new and comfortable looking sofa. ‘I take it that you don’t mind if my wife stays where she is.’
‘No, no problem at all,’ Mac replied, sitting down with some gratitude. ‘Your firm say that you picked up a fare from the rank in Bancroft last night around nine forty. Can you confirm that?’
‘Oh yes, I remember him well. He’d had quite a lot to drink but he was happy with it. Not like some of them who get a bit fractious when they’ve had a few.’
The use of the word ‘fractious’ got Mac’s attention. He looked around the room. In the corner there was a large bookcase. He could see some of the titles from where he sat, The Iliad, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Catcher in the Rye and quite a few by Dickens and Shakespeare.
‘Where did you drop this man?’ Mac asked.
‘On the Bedford Road, not far from the Rugby Club.’
He even remembered the number.
‘Did you pick up anyone else after that?’ Mac asked.
‘No, that was my last job. I don’t like working after ten, unless the firm’s absolutely desperate that is.’
The Blackness (The Mac Maguire detective mysteries Book 4) Page 2
