Sean had a choirboy's face.
"I was wondering if you ever saw your boss meeting with someone who upset him or got him rattled," Bragg went on.
The two boys shook their heads again.
Bragg looked up at Evan. "I think that's all for now, don't you, Evans? We've got their names and addresses in case we want to ask them more questions."
"So I suppose the place won't be opening again for a while?" Tommy asked. "Now I'll have to find another job with the right sort of hours."
"I was thinking of moving in with friends closer to the uni anyway," Sean said.
"What subject are you reading, Sean?" Evan asked.
Sean blushed. "Theology."
Chapter 16
"I don't know about you blokes, but I could use some coffee," Bragg muttered, as they met in the alleyway outside after interviewing the three employees. "And I don't mean around here. I mean some real coffee."
"Did somebody say coffee?" one of the techs poked his head out of the window. "You wouldn't like to bring us back a cup when you come, would you? I'd murder for a coffee right now."
"Bad choice of words, Tim, given the circumstances," the female tech said. "But I could certainly use one too. We've been here since seven."
"What do you think I am, the bloody maid?" Bragg snapped.
"No sweat to me, mate," Tim said. "If someone brings us back a coffee, then we keep on working. If not, we take a break to get some, and you'll have to wait for our findings."
"Bolshie lot," Bragg said, but he was smiling. "I suppose we can bring back coffees. Evans, I'll leave you in charge of that."
"I hope the responsibility doesn't go to his head," Pritchard muttered, getting a laugh.
"When's this poor bloke going to be moved then?" Bragg asked, pointing at the arm hanging over the windowsill.
"The morgue wagon is on its way now," the female technician said. "And we're almost done in here."
"Like to share what you've found?"
"Only the obvious. He was shot through the window, from about six feet away. The alleyway was dark, the kitchen was light. He'd have been an easy target. As for the killer coming into the building-there are unidentified fingerprints all over the place, but we should know more about them when we've fingerprinted the restaurant staff, which we're going to do next. It doesn't appear to be any kind of break-in. There's money in the till. The kitchen's spotless, as you can see. Nothing disturbed. So we have to conclude that the point was to shoot Alessi."
"Any other shootings in this area that you know of?" Bragg asked.
The two techs looked at each other and shook their heads. "Not that I can remember," Tim said. "To tell you the truth, we don't often get a chance to handle a murder scene, so it's rather exciting."
"Not for him." Bragg tapped the dangling arm. "Right. Milk and sugar for everyone? Take orders, Evans."
Fifteen minutes later they were sitting in the Happy Bean, at the more upscale end of the shopping precinct, between the Gap and Benetton. It was frequented mainly by trendy young people, yuppy mums with toddlers in designer pushchairs, and one elderly couple, looking decidedly uncomfortable with the loud music.
"It might be a good time see what we've got so far," Bragg said. "The widow might have a motive. She admitted he had hit her before now, but supposedly that was when he was drinking and he'd given it up."
"And she does have a good alibi," Evan added. "She's on medication. Strong sleeping pills that knock her out for the night."
"And she definitely took one last night?" Wingate asked.
"Oh yes. Mostyn said he couldn't get much out of her, and I'd say she was still a bit groggy when we first talked to her, wouldn't you, Evans?"
"She wasn't the sharpest," Evan said. "Of course, shock can do that to some people too."
"So how did she conveniently wake up to find him and call the cops if she was lying there doped on pills?" Wingate asked.
"She said she always has to visit the bathroom in the middle of the night. Even though she was half asleep, she noticed he hadn't come to bed and went looking for him."
"So why was she taking sleeping pills?"
"She hasn't been well lately. Something to do with nerves. We'll need to see her doctor about that. Make a note, Evans."
"And did she have any ideas about who might have killed him?" Pritchard asked, seeing Evan frown as he took out his notebook.
"None at