Page 142 of Too Close To Home

By the time he reached the King’s Arms, he’d got his DI hat firmly back in place, pulled low, everything else shoved under it where it couldn’t interfere. Work. Focus. Control. He parked, cut the engine, and stepped out into the damp chill before heading inside. The difference from the other night was immediate.

Quiet. Almost dead.

One couple sat tucked into a corner, heads bent close. Three bar staff behind the counter. And Brodie, behind the pumps, scrolling through his phone, shoulders loose, at ease in a way that didn’t quite sit right. Funny that he had to be in when it was this quiet. And when he’d looked as if he wanted in Jake’s flat earlier.

Harrison crossed the room, forcing his mind to stay where it needed to be. Not on the image of Brodie earlier, too close to Jake, hand on his face. Not on the sharp, unwelcome twist of something that had no business existing in his chest.

He was forty-three.

He didn’t have the time or the inclination to pick apart jealousy. Or whatever the hell that had been. Envy, maybe. At how uncomplicated Brodie was. At how easy it looked. At how someone like him could slot into Jake’s life without… all the rest of it.

Without the mess.

Harrison shut the thought down. “Brodie?”

Brodie straightened. “Detective.”

“I need to clarify a few things from the other night.” Harrison flipped open his notebook, scanning the hurried notes. “We’ve reviewed the CCTV from Wednesday. You’re seen serving Andy Mitchell. Multiple times.”

Brodie gave a small shrug. “It’s a pub.”

“Right.” Harrison’s tone stayed even. “There’s a period of about a minute where you’re talking to him. Do you recall what that conversation was about?”

“I talk to a lot of people, Detective. Can’t remember every conversation.”

Harrison nodded, as if that were reasonable. “He’s also stated you gave him his first pint on the house. Is that accurate?”

He looked as if he were genuinely thinking about that. “I… oh. Right, aye. I did.”

“Why?”

“As a thank you.” Brodie leaned back against the bar, settling into it. “He helped me with my car. Battery were dead. Gave me a jump start.”

“Yet you claimed not to know him when I showed you his picture.”

“I didn’t take a proper look.”

Harrison wrote that down. Didn’t believe a word of it either. “He also mentioned asking you about something. Do you recall that?”

Brodie shook his head.

“He said he asked you if you’d seen his phone. Did you look for it? Has anything been handed in?”

“No.” Brodie shook his head. “Nowt in lost property.”

Harrison let the silence sit. Watched him. The hesitation before the correction. The way the answer had altered once he’d committed to it. Something didn’t quite sit.

He lowered the notebook. “Andy’s a regular fixture in here.”

“I suppose.”

“And he helped you with your car?” Harrison kept his tone mild. “You thanked him with a free drink. Yet when I showed you his photo, you said you didn’t recognise him.”

Brodie sighed. “Right. Okay. I’ll level with you. Aye, Andy was in here. Aye, I served him. Gave him a pint on the house because I thought it’d get him out quicker. Bloke were hanging around.”

The story changed.

“And you chose not to mention that before?”