as a looker.’
‘I’ll tell him you said that.’
‘You dare.’
‘Were you on about that horrible man, dear?’ June’s hearing was obviously intact. She removed her glasses and placed her knitting next to her empty plate.
‘Yes, do you know him?’
She shook her head. ‘Not really, but I have seen him around. Always looks a scruff.’
‘And he stinks.’ Cyril placed his newspaper on the table. His eyes crinkled at the edges as he rolled them. ‘That was cruel of me. We think he’s homeless because we’ve seen him sitting on the streets wrapped in an old sleeping bag. June gave him a few pence to buy some food with, didn’t you?’
She nodded. ‘He walks up George Street. I’ve seen him a few times.’
‘Where have you seen him sitting?’ Gina bit her bottom lip.
‘Just around the corner from the accountants. He’s doesn’t try to get attention. He just leans against the wall staring into space like he’s on drugs or something. Is he in trouble?’
‘No. We’re just making enquiries at the moment as a part of our investigation. Have you ever—’
As Gina pulled her notebook out, Lucy came back in from around the back. ‘The footage isn’t very clear but it should give you something to work with. If there’s anything else you need, just ask.’ She placed the memory stick on the table.
‘Have you seen him around or has he been in before?’ Gina almost burned her mouth on the coffee as she took another gulp.
Lucy shook her head. ‘Not that I can recall. I’d have remembered him, I’m sure of that.’
Gina turned back to June who had picked her knitting back up. ‘Have you ever spoken to him?’
June nodded. ‘I went up to him a couple of weeks ago and tried to get him to talk. I know his name. He said, call me Al, like the song by Paul Simon. I think that’s why I remember. Cyril likes Paul Simon.’
‘Thank you so much, June.’ It might only be something small, but it was a start. She only hoped he was using his real name. Al could be an Alan, an Alex, an Ali, an Albert or an Alastair. There are probably many Als that weren’t coming to mind too. ‘Did he say anything else?’
‘No. He ignored me when I asked him if he’d like me to make him a scarf. I thought he was cold so I offered.’ June shrugged.
‘That was very kind of you.’ Gina smiled.
‘He was definitely on something, June. I swear, she’ll talk to anyone because she’s got a big heart but she does worry me.’ Cyril squeezed his wife’s hand. ‘Ah ha, four down: rotten.’ He picked up his pen and went back to his crossword.
‘Thanks, Lucy, and thank you, June.’ The elderly lady had a sad look in her eyes as she gave Gina a parting smile.
Back out in the crisp air, Gina shivered. ‘We’ve got time for a quick chat with our vicar, Sally Stevens, then we’ll head back to the station and catch up with the investigation where I’ll check this CCTV out, see if I can get a close up on his face. So, we’re looking for an Al.’
Gina pulled her hood up and glanced back at the shop where she caught Cyril staring at her over his newspaper. She scrunched her brow and looked away. Why was he now acting weirdly? She felt in her pocket for the letter. It rustled, reminding her of its presence.
To the right was George Street. She pictured their angry stranger – now victim – sitting against the wall wrapped in a sleeping bag. She still couldn’t work out why he’d been lurking around on the night of the incident. Maybe he wasn’t staring at her, maybe it was something to do with the kids or the church behind her. Maybe a homeless man with a bit of a mouth on him made the perfect target and they’d been giving him some grief. ‘We need to track those kids down, the ones who were here beating the boy up.’
‘It’ll be a miracle if we do that with the CCTV footage from the church. It’s as blurry as hell. I don’t hold out any hope at all.’
Gina glanced back at the café. Cyril’s head was now concealed by newspaper. Maybe she was making something out of nothing. Why did it feel like Cyril knew something she didn’t?
Chapter Thirteen
‘Ms Stevens? I’m DI Harte and this is DS Driscoll. May we speak to you for a moment?’
‘I literally have ten