over the water, wrapped up in their coats. Angela Bale seemed happier outside where they couldn’t be overheard.
‘What were you doing in Braunton when you saw Mr Walden?’
‘It was my day off,’ she said. ‘I always meet my mother on my day off. She lives in Braunton, so I get the bus. Then she buys me coffee. The least she can do, she says, because I’ve made the trip over to see her. That place we went to, the cafe by the stream where I saw your man, is our favourite.’
Matthew nodded and saw that this trip to Braunton to see her mother was the highlight of her week. She was still talking.
‘Then I do a bit of supermarket shopping for her and carry it home. She’s got arthritis in her hands and she can’t manage heavy bags these days.’
‘What time do you usually get to the cafe?’ Matthew thought it would be the same time each week. There would be an element of ritual in her days out.
‘The bus gets in at ten forty-five and I walk straight there. Eleven o’clock? Mum was there before me and she’d bagged our favourite table.’
‘You’d caught the bus from Ilfracombe?’
Angela Bale nodded.
‘I don’t suppose you noticed Mr Walden on the bus? We think he came from Ilfracombe too, you see.’
‘No,’ she said, certain now. She’d lost her shyness. ‘He was there before me. Sitting at the table next to ours.’
‘What was he wearing?’
‘Jeans. A denim jacket.’ She shut her eyes for a moment. ‘He was eating a bacon sandwich. I thought it looked very good, but Mum and I always go for a milky coffee and a scone.’
‘And the woman next to him?’
‘I didn’t see her so clearly because she had her back to me.’
‘What sort of age?’ Matthew was careful not to prompt, not to let his disappointment show.
‘Young. Well, everyone seems young to me these days.’ Angela appeared more confident now. ‘Dark hair. A green coat. I don’t think I saw her face at all.’ A pause. Matthew could tell she was trying her best to remember. She wanted to please him. ‘She was drinking that herby tea. I could smell it. I’ve never seen the point. And she wasn’t eating anything. Not even a bit of toast or a biscuit. It always seems a waste to me, going out to a cafe, if all you choose is something you could have for much less money at home.’
‘That’s really helpful. Who left first? Them or you?’
She didn’t have to think about that. ‘Oh, them. We don’t rush, Mum and me. We like to take our time.’
‘Did you see who paid? The man or the woman?’
This time she took a while to answer. ‘They didn’t pay at the table. They paid at the counter on their way out. I think it was her.’
‘I don’t suppose you noticed whether she paid with cash or a card.’ Matthew kept his voice light. He didn’t want to put her under any pressure. But under the table he was crossing his fingers. If the woman had paid with a card, they’d have a name for her.
Angela shook her head. ‘Sorry. I didn’t see.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I should probably go.’
Matthew stood up. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’ That was true because it was possible the woman had paid by card. Most younger people did.
Outside on the pavement, Angela Bale hurried away back to the ferry offices. Matthew stood for a moment. He was trying to remember if he’d seen either of the women from Hope Street in a green coat.
He stopped at the cafe in Braunton where Angela Bale had seen Walden on his way back to Barnstaple. He and Jonathan were regulars; the place did a terrific weekend brunch and on a Saturday morning you had to queue for a table. It was quieter now. A couple of women were taking an early afternoon tea and a businessman engrossed in a laptop was eating a sandwich. Lizzie was at the counter. She owned the place and did most of the front of house.
‘Hi there, Matt! What can I get you?’
He was tempted to order another coffee, but he’d been out of the office for long enough. ‘Sorry, Liz, this is official.’ He put Walden’s photo on the counter. ‘Do you recognize this man?’
She squinted. She wore specs for making up the bills but was too vain to put them on for serving. ‘He’s not a regular.’
‘He’s the guy that was killed on Crow