won’t be.’
‘In that case, why don’t we have dinner tomorrow night? If there’s any news I should have it by then.’
‘I’ll pick you up about eight.’
‘I’m in the same block of hospital flats I stayed in last time I worked here.’
‘I’ll be there.’ He shook her hand, only just resisting the temptation to hold it a fraction longer than necessary, before walking out through the door.
‘Look, Sergeant…’
‘I’m Peter, she’s Anna.’ Peter ground the stub of his cigar to dust in an ashtray. It was the tail end of a long and fruitless day. They’d got no joy at the hospital, not that he’d expected any after two years.
The shift on which Anthony George’s face had been skinned had turned out to be the mortuary attendant’s last. The doctor who’d telephoned the hotline had tried to be helpful, but he’d only endorsed the statement he’d made two years ago.
The George family GP had dropped a few hints which Anna had taken as verification of her suspicion of an affair between Mrs George and Brian Marks, a theory which apart from making Anna insufferable had done nothing to take their case further forward.
Anthony George’s friends had confirmed that the man on television had definitely been Anthony George, which hadn’t helped at all. And now they were in their last port of call. The pub where Inspector Edwards had found Anthony George’s boyfriend. An effeminate gay whom Peter had taken a dislike to on sight, and Anna had established instant rapport with.
Luke Davies snapped the folder shut and handed it back to Anna. ‘All I can say is that whoever he is, he bears an uncanny resemblance to the Anthony I knew, and,’ he glared defiantly at Peter, ‘loved. But it can’t be him.’
‘Why?’ Peter twirled the remainder of his beer around his pint glass and downed it. It was his second and he intended to have a third which would either mean Anna driving back, or staying over, and at that moment he didn’t give a damn which.
‘Because I drove Anthony to the hospital after he had his first heart attack. I sat in the waiting room while they tried to resuscitate him. And I held his hand when he died.’
‘And it was definitely Anthony George?’ Anna probed.
‘No doubt about it.’
There was a young man in evidence, just as Ted Edwards had told Trevor. While he served drinks he glanced frequently in their direction, but his attention didn’t stop Luke Davies from shedding tears over Tony’s photograph.
‘Then we have to accept that Anthony George is dead,’ Peter agreed. With the doctor’s, Mark’s, Caldwell’s and now Davies’ assertion that they’d identified George’s body, that fact had been established. ‘But you are aware that someone removed his face afterwards?’
‘Sick bastards. If I’d got hold of whoever did it I would have killed them.’
‘Inspector Edwards said you knew Anthony George better than anyone?’
Luke nodded, as he motioned to the young man behind the bar to refill their glasses.
‘Have you any idea why anyone would want to impersonate him?’
‘Impersonate?’ Luke gazed blankly at Peter as the barman set a large gin and tonic before him and fresh pints in front of Anna and Peter.
‘You agreed the man in that video looks like Anthony George.’
‘From what was said on television last night, and what you’ve just told me, this Tony was a down-and-out who slept rough and in hostels.’
‘Yes.’
‘Funny kind of an impersonation that lands a man on the streets. Now if he’d tried to take over Anthony’s house and money I could have understood it. Anthony’s mother had a nice place, and a few bob, from what I understood.’
‘You got nothing after Anthony died?’ Peter probed for signs of resentment.
‘I got a great deal more than I deserved.
Anthony lent me the money to buy this place. I gave him a full partnership in return for his cash, but it was a private arrangement. I wanted Anthony to draw up a legal
‘In that case, why don’t we have dinner tomorrow night? If there’s any news I should have it by then.’
‘I’ll pick you up about eight.’
‘I’m in the same block of hospital flats I stayed in last time I worked here.’
‘I’ll be there.’ He shook her hand, only just resisting the temptation to hold it a fraction longer than necessary, before walking out through the door.
‘Look, Sergeant…’
‘I’m Peter, she’s Anna.’ Peter ground the stub of his cigar to dust in an ashtray. It was the tail end of a long and fruitless day. They’d got no joy at the hospital, not that he’d expected any after two years.
The shift on which Anthony George’s face had been skinned had turned out to be the mortuary attendant’s last. The doctor who’d telephoned the hotline had tried to be helpful, but he’d only endorsed the statement he’d made two years ago.
The George family GP had dropped a few hints which Anna had taken as verification of her suspicion of an affair between Mrs George and Brian Marks, a theory which apart from making Anna insufferable had done nothing to take their case further forward.
Anthony George’s friends had confirmed that the man on television had definitely been Anthony George, which hadn’t helped at all. And now they were in their last port of call. The pub where Inspector Edwards had found Anthony George’s boyfriend. An effeminate gay whom Peter had taken a dislike to on sight, and Anna had established instant rapport with.
Luke Davies snapped the folder shut and handed it back to Anna. ‘All I can say is that whoever he is, he bears an uncanny resemblance to the Anthony I knew, and,’ he glared defiantly at Peter, ‘loved. But it can’t be him.’
‘Why?’ Peter twirled the remainder of his beer around his pint glass and downed it. It was his second and he intended to have a third which would either mean Anna driving back, or staying over, and at that moment he didn’t give a damn which.
‘Because I drove Anthony to the hospital after he had his first heart attack. I sat in the waiting room while they tried to resuscitate him. And I held his hand when he died.’
‘And it was definitely Anthony George?’ Anna probed.
‘No doubt about it.’
There was a young man in evidence, just as Ted Edwards had told Trevor. While he served drinks he glanced frequently in their direction, but his attention didn’t stop Luke Davies from shedding tears over Tony’s photograph.
‘Then we have to accept that Anthony George is dead,’ Peter agreed. With the doctor’s, Mark’s, Caldwell’s and now Davies’ assertion that they’d identified George’s body, that fact had been established. ‘But you are aware that someone removed his face afterwards?’
‘Sick bastards. If I’d got hold of whoever did it I would have killed them.’
‘Inspector Edwards said you knew Anthony George better than anyone?’
Luke nodded, as he motioned to the young man behind the bar to refill their glasses.
‘Have you any idea why anyone would want to impersonate him?’
‘Impersonate?’ Luke gazed blankly at Peter as the barman set a large gin and tonic before him and fresh pints in front of Anna and Peter.
‘You agreed the man in that video looks like Anthony George.’
‘From what was said on television last night, and what you’ve just told me, this Tony was a down-and-out who slept rough and in hostels.’
‘Yes.’
‘Funny kind of an impersonation that lands a man on the streets. Now if he’d tried to take over Anthony’s house and money I could have understood it. Anthony’s mother had a nice place, and a few bob, from what I understood.’
‘You got nothing after Anthony died?’ Peter probed for signs of resentment.
‘I got a great deal more than I deserved.
Anthony lent me the money to buy this place. I gave him a full partnership in return for his cash, but it was a private arrangement. I wanted Anthony to draw up a legal
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