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Even though the Prince Albert was a pub favoured by police officers — being situated, as it was, right next to Mildenheath Police Station — business was hardly ever discussed there. There’d been occasions where Jack and his team had gone for a few drinks after work with the express intention of chewing their way through a case, but the unspoken rule was that they didn’t talk shop. And that was one of the reasons Jack liked going to the Albert on his own: it meant no-one talked to him about anything.
Jack Culverhouse had very few pleasures in life, but one of them was sitting in the corner of a pub with a pint in his hand, watching the world go by as his mind gently processed his thoughts. He found it calming, almost meditative. It also allowed him to keep his finger on the pulse local
