The Malcontenta by Barry Maitland Page B

please.’
    ‘Stella?’
    ‘Fine. Maybe you can help me. I’m looking for someone.’ ‘Aren’t we all, luv?’
    ‘Yes, well. You ever see a foreign bloke in here, dark, in his twenties, your sort of build? I’ve got a picture.’
    The man glanced at it over his arm as he drew the lager.
    ‘Nice. What’s he done, run off with someone?’
    ‘He’s had an accident. I’m trying to contact his friends. His name’s Alex, Alex Petrou. Mean anything to you?’
    The barman took his time to shake his head. ‘What made you try here?’
    ‘He worked at the Stanhope Clinic up the road. I just thought he might have come in here for a drink.’
    The man looked at Kathy carefully. ‘Well, I’ll ask the regulars if you like. Want to leave the picture?’
    ‘All right. I’ll put my phone number on the back.’
    Kathy handed it over and sat on a stool at one end of the bar. An evening newspaper was lying on the towelling mat. The discovery of a murder on a suburban train was making the headlines. To date she had been happy that the press hadn’t made much of Petrou’s death, but maybe it was getting to the point where some wider coverage might help trace his movements on Sunday night, if he had left the clinic. Kathy sipped her beer and thought about it. She didn’t take any notice of the customer who had arrived further down the bar until he ordered a Scotch. Then she looked up, surprised by the harsh Geordie vowels of Tanner’s voice.
    ‘Hello, Kathy,’ he said, putting his wallet away, not even looking round at her. Then he turned towards her and smiled. There was something about his smile that made her feel even more uncomfortable than his hostility.
    ‘Still hot on the trail, eh?’
    He came over and sat on the stool next to her.
    ‘What progress do we have to report today?’
    ‘How did you know I was here, sir?’ She heard her voice sound distant and tight.
    ‘Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I always drink here. Tasteful decor.’ His lip curled in distaste as his eyes travelled round the room and fastened on the barman. ‘Genial host.’
    Kathy decided to play it straight. ‘We finished interviewing everyone at the clinic today. Belle Mansfield is processing the data. I hope to hear something from the pathologist tomorrow. We’re following up the possibility that Petrou left the clinic on Sunday evening and met someone. The tank of his motor bike -’
    ‘Alternatively,’ Tanner broke in, as if he hadn’t heard her speak, ‘I might just have heard that one of my sergeants had taken to frequenting gay bars. That sort of thing tends to get around, especially if the sergeant is a she.’
    Kathy didn’t reply. For several minutes they sat in silence. Eventually Tanner said, as if making idle conversation to a stranger, ‘What’s this Stanhope Clinic like, then?’
    Kathy didn’t really know how to reply. What was it like} It wasn’t really like anything. It had its own peculiar personality, hard to describe. In fact, coming away from it, Kathy realized how strongly that personality had begun to form itself in her mind. She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It’s not a con. I think everyone there believes in it, the naturopathic thing, quite genuinely. You should ask the Deputy Chief Constable. He’s on the Board of Trustees.’
    ‘I did. He said I should take my next leave there. Do me the world of good, he said.’ He drained his whisky. ‘Get the poisons out of my system.’
    Kathy smiled. ‘What did you say?’
    ‘I said I didn’t think it would be that easy.’ He got to his feet, buttoning up his raincoat. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Show me.’
    ‘Show you?’
    ‘Yeah. I’d like to take a look.’ ‘But it’s dark.’
    ‘All the better. It was dark when it happened, wasn’t it? Whatever it was.’
    Kathy followed him out to the street. He had opened the passenger door of his Granada for her and was getting in behind the wheel on the other side. Reluctantly she got in beside him.
    She