Murmuring the Judges

58

‘You know,’ said Stevie Steele, ‘I often wondered why the bar in an army base is called the Mess.’

The steward looked round the panelled room and laughed. ‘If you could see the state of some of the lads when they leave here, you wouldn’t need to ask.’

The man, who had introduced himself as Barry Herr, nodded towards his bar. ‘Can I get you a drink, sergeant?’ he asked.

Steele, who had a raging thirst, looked regretfully at the brightly lit ale and lager fonts. ‘I’m driving, I’m afraid.’

‘Have something non-alcoholic, then.’ Herr reached over the wooden bartop, picked up a pint glass and filled it almost to the top with dark cola from the soft drinks dispenser. ‘That’ll no’ do you any harm,’ he muttered, handing it to the policeman.

‘Cheers,’ Steele acknowledged. ‘Now, about Arlene Regan. .’

‘Ah yes,’ said the steward of the Territorial Army Club. ‘Our Arlene. A real personality girl, if ever I saw one. She let me down, though.’

‘How was that?’

‘She left me in the lurch, about a week ago. She didn’t appear for her evening shift. I spent all night rushed off my feet, all the time expecting her to phone me to explain where the fuck she was, but not a word did I hear from her. When she didn’t turn up the evening after that, I called her, to be told by BT that her number had been disconnected.

‘So I can’t really say I’m surprised that you’re here asking questions about her. What’s she done?’

The detective shrugged his shoulders. ‘Arlene hasn’t necessarily done anything. It’s her boy-friend that we’re after. Do you know anything about him?’

‘I know he existed,’ said Herr, ‘but I’ve never met him. They lived not far from here, so she usually walked home after work. She didn’t talk much about him though, not when she was flirting with the Weekend Warriors. As far as I know he worked in a shop.’

‘That’s right. Raglan’s.’

The man’s eyes widened. ‘What? The place that had that big robbery. .’

‘. . on the day Arlene and her boy-friend disappeared. That’s right.’

‘Jesus! No wonder you want to talk to him.’

Steele sipped his cola. ‘Do you know, Mr Herr,’ he went on, ‘whether Arlene did anything more than flirt with the customers?’

The steward frowned and looked at the carpeted floor. ‘I doubt it,’ he replied at last. ‘She could be a bit loud, but behind all that she was a nice girl.’

‘In what way?’

‘She was a decent, friendly, honest lass. The till was never a problem with her. She never struck me as the type to have two-timed her boy-friend. Mind you, she worked here for about three years. She was only living with him for the last two. Maybe at the start there were one or two she took a shine to.

‘There was a big red-haired bloke fancied her; that was his nickname, too. Big Red, his pals called him. But she never treated him as any more than one of the lads.’ He paused.

‘There was another guy she talked to quite a lot, though. He wasn’t a member, but the Paras brought him in every so often. Hamburger, they called him. . they all had nicknames. Arlene liked him; I could see that. If she was playing around with anyone, it’d have been him, I reckon.’

‘The Paras?’ exclaimed the detective, in surprise. ‘Are they based here?’

Herr laughed. ‘No, that’s what they call themselves. Some of them were once, mind you. They’re a bunch of ex-regulars who joined the TA after they were discharged. Most of them are still in. There are half a dozen of them: Big Red’s one. . although he hasn’t been in for a while. . Bakey Newton, he’s another, Rocky Saunders, Big Mac, Tory Clark, and, and. . Curly Collins.

‘They were always chatting up Arlene, that lot. We have other Friday regulars, but they were the ones she talked to the most.’

‘Would any of them have an idea where she might be?’

‘You could ask them, next time they’re in. They usually meet up on a Friday night, and sometimes on other nights during the week. I haven’t seen them for a week or so, but I expect they’ll be in again soon.’

‘Do you have home addresses for any of them?’

‘No, but they’re all in. . or they were in. . the Lowland Territorial Infantry Division. You could try them.’

Sergeant Steele drained his glass, and reached into his pocket. ‘I’ll do that, Mr Herr,’ he said, taking out a calling card and a pen. Scribbling on a pad he continued, ‘Meantime, there are my office, mobile and home numbers. If any of them, or this Hamburger guy, come in over the next couple of days, give me a call.’