“Nothing at all. It was so busy in here that night. I’ve been working here almost a year, and I’ve never seen it that crazy before. Everybody was using the snow as an excuse to go on a pub crawl.”
“Makes sense,” Zane said. Vanessa Wells seemed like an honest girl and had probably given him all the information he was going to get. Unfortunately, it was pretty much the same information that had been passed along by Scotland Yard. “Well, I guess that's all—”
He was about to get up when Vanessa touched him on the arm. She leaned toward him and whispered softly, “There is one more thing you can put in your little article. The police spent a lot of time asking me about another one of the customers I waited on that night.”
Zane sat up straight, his internal alarm system going off. “And who was that?”
“He was sitting right over there,” she said, pointing toward the other end of the room. “All by his self he was. Never spoke and wouldn’t hardly look me in the eye. Not that I wanted him to.”
“Surely you get people in here like that all the time. Why were the police focused on him?”
“Well, as I said, things were crazy. But one thing I realized later, when they started asking questions, is that this creep had left about the same time as the man with the beard. Whether it was before or after I don’t know. What I do know is that I was cleaning his table when the man came in screaming about someone being shot.”
“Did he pay by credit card?”
Vanessa laughed. “You sound just like that detective I talked to. No, he just left his money on the table and disappeared.”
“Did the police look at the glass he was drinking out of? He might have left some prints.”
“They asked me which one it was, but I told them I put the glass down with a bunch of others at the end of the bar. I don’t guess it matters, though. The detective let it slip out that this was a professional killer and likely had gloves on.”
“Probably so.” Zane sat back for a moment as if lost in thought, and then leaned forward and asked, “What did this man look like?”
“Scared the devil out of me, he did. Was the meanest looking thing I’d seen in a long time. Never smiled and always looked annoyed when I asked him something.”
“I mean, what was his appearance?”
“Very tall, with short, blond hair. I told the cops he looked like he was from up in Norway or Sweden. And even though he had a coat on, he looked like one of those men that would have muscles popping out everywhere.” Vanessa reached over and grabbed Zane’s arm. “But that’s not really what made him stand out. What set him apart was this long scar that ran up the whole side of his face.” She traced her finger up the line of her right jaw and past her eye.
“Interesting. And you’re sure the scar was on the right side of the face?”
“Positive.”
“And did you tell the police about that?”
“I did,” said Vanessa.
Zane felt a surge of adrenaline. His gut told him that the man with the scar was the killer. And if he could find him, he might find out who was behind the murder of Ian Higgs.
CHAPTER SIX
The Whitehorse Tavern was one of the few central London pubs situated directly on the bank of the Thames. Nestled on the south side of the river near the Millennium Bridge, the building itself was nondescript and contemporary, with large glass windows running the entire length of the exterior.
Upon arriving, Zane noted that the interior was completely full. One of the servers invited him to take advantage of the outside seating, so he selected a table at the corner of the building, just a few feet away from the river. A large heat lamp stood next to the table and would provide more than enough warmth in the falling temperatures.
After sitting down, Zane realized the outside location was actually preferable, as it gave him a full view of the interior through the glass windows. Had he been seated inside, there would’ve been too many blind spots for his taste. The outside table also afforded him the opportunity to watch both approaches along the boardwalk.
Amanda Higgs was not due to arrive for another fifteen minutes, so he ordered a pint of winter ale and used the opportunity to observe the crowd inside. There were probably two dozen people crushed around the bar, and then perhaps that same number sitting at tables. The crowd was mostly young and professional, with a few tourists sprinkled in. Despite the sheer number of revelers, the operative was able to log the faces of almost every patron present. If there were any subsequent arrivals, he would be able to spot them.
About ten minutes later, just as he was finishing cataloging the people inside, Zane saw a person he believed to be Amanda Higgs approaching from the east along the boardwalk. As she drew closer, Zane realized that her pictures didn’t do her justice. She had long, straight blond hair and big, beautiful blue eyes. She was wearing a stylish black trench coat, skinny jeans, and flats.
She paused at the entrance to the pub, the look on her face indicating she was a little intimidated by the large crowd inside. Zane stood up and was about to wave to get her attention when she caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. Immediately, a smile broke over her face as she recognized the operative from the description she had been given.
“Hi, I’m Amanda Higgs,” she said, extending her hand as she approached. “And you must be—?”
“Nice to meet you,” Zane interrupted, preventing her from using his name in public. They shook hands, and he gestured across the table. “Please, have a seat.”
“Thank you.” She set her purse on the table and scooted her chair closer to the large heat lamp.
“I apologize for the Arctic seating,” he said. “The inside was a bit crowded.”
“No, this is fine. There is no way in the world I’d be able to hear you in there anyway.”
“Are you hard of hearing?”
“Let’s just say I use my iPod a bit much.”
Zane was about to speak again when the server appeared at the table and placed a menu in front of Amanda. “Hello there. Can I get you something to drink while you look over the menu?”
“Sure,” she said, glancing at the glass of beer in Zane’s hand. “I’ll have a house merlot, please.”
“Merlot. Fantastic. Coming right up.”
Zane waited until the server was out of earshot before continuing. “Thanks for coming here to meet with me, Amanda. First of all, I’m so very sorry about your father.”
“Thanks. It’s tough, you know? Dad was not that old. And what was really tough was that our relationship had gotten so much better recently. We were closer than ever before.”
“I can’t even imagine the pain you must be in right now.”
“Well, to be honest I just feel like I’m in a fog right now. It’s been tough, but I haven’t really had time to grieve yet.”
“Which is totally understandable,” said Zane.
“Actually, I should thank you. Coming here to help find Dad’s killer is like therapy for me. I’ve never been a wallflower, Mr.—”
“Call me Zane.”
“I’m not like most girls… Zane,” she replied, blushing a bit. “I like to fix things. I have my emotional moments like all women do, but if there is a problem out there that needs to be solved, then that’s what I tend to focus on first. Some would say it’s a coping mechanism. I just think it’s a part of my personality.”
The server arrived and set the glass of merlot on the table. “Will you be eating tonight?”
“I’m good,” Amanda said. “Just the drink will do for now. Thank you, though.”
As the server gathered the menus, Zane took another sip of his ale and looked across the river. St. Paul’s Cathedral towered majestically above the surrounding rooftops. Spotlights were trained on the venerable gray dome, making it glow against the backdrop of the night. Zane had forgotten how beautiful London was in the evening.