“Run in the family, does it?”
“It would appear so. Arnold Trainer, his brother, is a longshoreman as well. Again, a foreman. Hard worker, from what I’ve been told.”
“No stone left unturned, WPC Small. Good work. Did he have any sort of record with the local police?”
“Nothing at all. The whole family have clean records. The Trainers were of good standing in the local community.”
She placed the file down on the desk in front of Ray in case he wished to read it himself.
“Thanks. Appreciate the hard work on this.”
“Any time,” WPC Small said, smiling as she left.
Ray sighed. “Well, that doesn’t help us all that much. Man was a saint back home. Doesn’t tell us much about why anyone would want him dead.”
“It doesn’t fit with what we’ve heard either, about being disruptive and not following orders,” Joseph pointed out, wondering what they were missing.
29.
The bus stop that Joseph used lay a short walk north of the station, on one of the busier roads through that part of Woolwich. It often made for busy buses, something that Joseph didn’t enjoy. A large number of routes went that way, giving him ample choice of services, so he never had to wait too long in theory. The first bus, be it the 161, 177 or 180, would take him west and into Greenwich. There he joined the 108 which would take him through the Blackwall tunnel, north of the river, before changing in Bromley, getting on the final bus, either the 86 or 25, which would take him up into Forest Gate. Today, however, instead of stopping at his usual bus stop, he continued walking until he reached the Grazier’s Arms.
He still didn’t know if he should be doing this alone. The fiasco with Janet Scott kept playing on his mind. So did the revelations about Gerald Trainer’s past. Joseph knew that he still wanted to ask a few more questions about the man Gerald Trainer had really been, before he got home to Dziko. If he could look her in the eye knowing that he had the fullest picture of their victim that he could possibly have, then he’d be happy. After all, why wait until tomorrow? Today had been extremely fruitful already. They only needed that one last piece of the puzzle to fall into place. In Joseph’s mind, he knew that he would find it in the Grazier’s.
The rain fell steadily now. People moved quickly to get where they were going, causing Joseph to dodge in between them, always ceding his ground to anyone coming his way, and holding his umbrella up high to avoid any collisions. By the time he reached the Grazier’s, damp had crept up his trousers from where he had stood in puddles whilst making way for other people and water dripped down the back of his neck. The rain had convinced more than a couple of people to get a pint on their way home, making the pub far busier than on his last visit. All the seats were taken and several of the punters had taken to standing at and around the bar. It hadn’t reached sardines in a tin, but it wouldn’t take more than a handful to make it a little uncomfortable in there.
He made his way to the bar. A different barmaid stood behind the bar, older-looking than Phyllis, who had served him and Ray previously. He’d hoped that there would at least be some familiar faces. It would help in striking up conversation. She busied herself pulling pints for four men who talked loudly amongst themselves whilst they waited. Clearly not their first drinks of the day. As he waited, he saw Phyllis emerging from a backroom. She looked across briefly, not recognising him, dumping a tray of clean glasses down ready to stack them on the shelves once she’d finished serving Joseph.
“What can I get you?” she asked.
“A pint of bitter please,” he said, not sure if that’s what he wanted. Phyllis still didn’t seem to recognise him so he seized the initiative. “I’m Detective Walsh. I came in the other day with my partner.”
Phyllis looked at him, struggling to place him. Ray had done most of the talking last time. Perhaps he would have fared better. “I remember. The grumpy guy not with you?”
“No, not tonight.”
“Social call then?”
“More I wanted to ask a couple of questions about Gerald again.”
She placed the pint down. “You know, you’re not the only ones who’ve done that.”
“Oh really?” He passed her what he figured would be enough money to cover the beer.
“Yeah, some chap came in asking for him. Not a man I know. Tall though, bald head, thick neck. Looked like trouble.”
“And you didn’t think to mention it to the police?”
Phyllis snorted. “I just said, he looked like trouble. I won’t go courting it.”
“But you’re talking to me about him now.”
“And you’re very welcome.”
Joseph didn’t seem to be getting very far going down this route. He moved on to find out more about the man. “What did he ask?”
“Same as you are. What we know about him. Or knew, I suppose. Talked to a few others in the pub. Didn’t really say much to me. I told him what I told you pair. I don’t suppose that’ll be the sort of thing you want to rap my knuckles for, will it officer?”
“Probably not,” Joseph admitted. The law didn’t stop her talking to people, although he desperately wished she’d have told them. “Anyone else in here right now that spoke to the man?”
Phyllis stood up on tiptoes to look over his shoulder, scanning the pub. Joseph turned to look out over the people assembled in the bar. All men. The only women were the two behind the bar. Joseph wondered briefly how intimidating that might be at times, despite all the front Phyllis put on.
“Cyril, the old chappie over there. He had a chat with the man. I’m sure he’ll happy spin you a yarn about it if you buy him a drink.”
“What’s his usual?” Joseph asked.
“Whisky and a glass of water.”
“Then, if you please.”
Phyllis looked at the collection of coins he’d given her for the pint. “That’ll be another two bob.”
Joseph nodded and fished in his pocket for some more change whilst Phyllis prepared the drink. He paid her and thanked her, before making his way over to where Cyril sat, engrossed in the middle of a game of dominoes with another older gentlemen. Joseph had played a lot of dominoes growing up. It had been a favourite parlour game of his grandmother’s, and any time they’d gone round, she’d insisted he play against her. An important thing to know for adulthood, she’d insisted. A great way to get to know people down the pubs when looking for a friend or a wife. He had hated the game.
“Mr Baker?”
Cyril looked up from his game. “Ah, the policeman,” he said smiling. “What can I do for you now?”
“Bought you a drink,” Joseph said, offering the whisky and water, placing them on the table.
