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CHAPTER17
Tony
The escapedgirl safety restored to Jack’s keeping, I make my way back indoors. I’m not entirely certain where he’s going, though seeing Beth and Faith in the chopper with him, I can make an educated guess.
I hope it works out well, though it’s difficult to envisage any happy ending there.
On the other hand, my own tangled affairs show more promise. Jenna’s going to be okay, Fuller’s in the process of getting his just deserts. All I need to do now is settle the question of who or what this Gregory is.
I get back to my apartment just as Jenna’s waking up. Megan is checking her observations and making notes on a clipboard. Both look my way when I enter.
“Did you find her?” Megan asks.
“Sure. No harm done.” I’m feeling generous.
“Still, it was my fault…”
“What happened?” Jenna glances from me to the doctor. “Who are you talking about?”
I drop a light kiss on her mouth. “Can we concentrate on you for now? I brought your phone back.”
She takes the device and sets it aside. “Thanks. I thought that thug probably smashed it. It cost me eight hundred quid…”
I’m relieved at her apparent lack of interest in checking her emails and texts. Not the actions of someone feeling guilty or trying to hide anything.
“I should phone Molly. She’ll need to manage on her own for a day or two, but—”
“And the rest. You’re not lifting a finger for at least a fortnight.” I consider taking the phone back for a while.
“Oh, no. Not possible. Molly can run the bar, but someone needs to be on the premises overnight. It’s the law. I need to be there…”
“I’ll see to it.” I have a relief manager in mind. Moses has worked in bars before, though usually as a bouncer, it has to be said. Still, he’s an ideal choice for a night watchman. I’ll get that sorted today.
Jenna settles back against her pillows. I think I detect a flicker of relief. Maybe I won’t need to tie her to the bed, after all.
At least, not to make her stay put.
“I’d better get on. I’ll call in to see Molly, check how she’s doing. Any messages?”
“Just, tell her ‘thank you’.”
I nod and kiss her again. “Take it easy. I’ll see you later.”
I pullup opposite the front door of the Hope and Anchor and check my watch. Just after three in the afternoon. The pub should be quiet right now. The lunchtime rush, such as it is, will be dying off and the after-work session not due to warm up for another two or three hours. A good opportunity to check the place out and have a word with Molly.
I enter the tap room. Sure enough, there are only two customers, seated at opposite ends of the bar, each nursing a pint glass. Molly’s polishing the hand pumps but pauses to greet me.
“Mr Savage.” She offers me a polite nod. “How’s the lass?”
“Doing well,” I reply. “She’ll be a week or two before she’s back, though. I’m going to send someone over to help.”
“Someone?” She glares at me over her glasses. “What sort of a someone?”
“A temporary manager,” I clarify. “Just until—”
“Yer wastin’ yer money, lad.” She returns to polishing the pumps, sparing me one final disparaging scowl.
I hitch my hip on a bar-stool. “You think?”
