All the Lonely People

Chapter Three-1

Chapter Three

THE FOLLOWING MORNING brought Dafyd Llewellyn's return to duty, much to Rafferty’s relief. He arrived at the police station bright and early, as was his habit. For once, Rafferty, with a busy day ahead of him, had beaten him in. He'd got used to working with the logical Welshman and hadn't relished the first day of working on the investigation without his support.

The office they shared, after a week of Rafferty’s sole occupation, was untidier than ever, with piles of files and reports teetering precariously on both desks as well as on the floor and on top of the row of filing cabinets. Llewellyn always kept the office as neat as a new pin and Rafferty noted his sergeant’s disapproving expression before Llewellyn, well-practised in his superior’s ways, had briefly left the office to get the teas in and observed Rafferty’s belated attempts at creating order out of seeming chaos on his return, which brought a brief twitch to his lips that Rafferty took for amusement. Though, as the Welshman was not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, it was difficult to be sure.

Rafferty told him about the events of the previous night and the details of those they'd already questioned. Llewellyn somehow found a tiny space on Rafferty’s cluttered desk for his tea and then sat down and quickly read through the witness statements before he shuffled them into a neat pile.

'Right,' said Rafferty as he sat back in his chair and picked up his tea. 'Now you know as much as I do.'

'A vicious mugging, do you think?’ Llewellyn asked as he sat at his desk, well away from the danger of dislodging the stacked paper towers, his intelligent brown gaze fixed on Rafferty. ‘I note the victim's wallet is missing.'

'Don't know yet. Could be, of course, though somehow I feel this case is going to turn out to be other than that. There's a smack of something more personal to me. According to the pub landlord, Keith Sutherland was a man good at getting on the wrong side of others. He even had a row with his own son on the boy's stag night which was held last night at the same pub behind which the body was found. Maybe a coincidence too far, especially as it seems the two didn't get on. Anyway, hopefully, we'll have a chance to find out more about that later today. Meanwhile, we've a pub-full of people to interview more thoroughly. I'm particularly interested in talking to the members of the stag party. I gather they left the pub around the same time as the deceased.'

'Do we know their identities?'

'Only the couple that the landlord was able to give me. The ones who are regulars at The Railway Arms. He didn't know three of the party. But doubtless, we'll have the names and addresses of those three before the day is out.'

'So what do you want to do first?'

‘I want to speak to the man who found the body,’ Rafferty said. He consulted his notebook. ‘He’s a Mr David Cookham. Lives here in Elmhurst, on the southern outskirts. He’s in the phone book, I checked.’ He handed his notebook to Llewellyn. ‘His telephone number’s in there. Give him a ring, Daff, and tell him we want to speak to him. Try to arrange it for this morning, if possible.’

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