Behind Closed Doors (Season One: Book 7) (Jessica Daniel) Read Free Page B

Behind the bar, a
bored young bar girl in a too-tight T-shirt was wiping a glass with a tea towel, wiggling her pert bottom for the customers as she turned and reached to put it onto a shelf. She would no doubt be
out of this back end of nowhere and off to see the real world as soon as she had some money.
    Jessica scanned the rest of the bar, looking for the person she was supposed to be meeting. She only had a name but had arrogantly assumed it couldn’t be that difficult to find one person
in such a small place.
    ‘Can I help you?’
    The girl behind the bar had finished putting the glass on the shelf and was eyeing Jessica.
    ‘I’m fine,’ Jessica replied, although she had now attracted the attention of the lone farmer at the bar. She walked past him, looking from side to side and checking each booth
until she had done a full lap of the pub. When she was by the door again, Jessica took out her phone, noting that she was on time, and then called the person she was due to meet.
    Her phone beeped an instant rejection.
    ‘You won’t get a signal around here, love,’ the farmer at the bar said, scratching the greying stubble on his chin and grinning crookedly. He had yellow teeth, with a gap at
the front where one was missing. ‘Are you looking for someone?’
    ‘Someone named Charlie. I’m supposed to be meeting him here . . .’
    He grinned, gaze scanning across her body. ‘I can be Charlie if you want me to be.’
    Jessica ignored him, starting another lap of the pub. The only men there were either in groups with other blokes, or with a female.
    As she finished her second circuit, Jessica took out the note from Cole with the name, time and place written on it and checked the name of the pub over the top of the bar, just to make sure she
was in the right place. The farmer was grinning at her, patting the empty seat next to him, but Jessica ignored him, starting a third lap.
    In the back corner was a woman sitting by herself reading a book. Jessica’s lack of interaction with people over the past few months made her nervous about approaching a stranger but she
didn’t have many other options as everyone else seemed to be in groups or pairs.
    ‘Excuse me,’ Jessica said, approaching the table. ‘Do you live around here?’
    The woman looked up from her book. She was a little older than Jessica, in her late thirties, with long brown hair tied into a ponytail. She had long eyelashes and a small button nose.
Considering she was the prettiest woman in the pub, it was a surprise she was the only one by herself.
    ‘I do but I’ve not been here for too long,’ she replied. ‘If you’re looking for directions, I’m probably not the best person to ask.’
    Jessica peered down at Cole’s note. ‘I’m looking for Charlie Bailey. Do you know him?’
    The woman grinned as she closed her book, putting it on the table and stretching out a hand. ‘Charlotte Bailey, pleased to meet you. You must be Jessica.’
    Jessica shook her hand awkwardly, unsure what to say and feeling even more self-conscious. ‘Sorry, my DCI left me a note saying “Charlie” and I assumed . . .’
    Charley took the note, reading it with a smile and handing it back. Her voice was posh, each word perfectly pronounced. ‘It’s the way he’s spelled it. I go for an E-Y at the
end. I’m guessing you tried calling but there’s no reception out here.’
    Jessica slid into the booth opposite her. ‘I tried when I got off the train, then from the taxi, then when I arrived at the pub.’
    Charley shook her head. ‘It’s pretty remote here. You get patches where everything works perfectly, then five steps away, you’ll lose reception entirely. The locals spent years
campaigning against a phone mast being put in, so they can’t really complain.’
    ‘You’re not local then?’
    It was an obvious question given the accent but Charley answered anyway. ‘No, I’m from Jersey.’
    ‘The island?’
    ‘Unless you know another