Unlucky For Some by Jill McGown

forms of address, and she wouldn’t even know that she’d said it.
    Jack paid for his beer, wishing he could think of something to say that would keep her from going back to Baker. Other people had small talk, but he didn’t. He spoke when he had something to say, and he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to say except things that he couldn’t say. Like how much he admired her, going on a course and taking on this pub on her own when her husband ran out on her before they’d been in the pub six months. Like how much he enjoyed her company, or at least had enjoyed it before Baker came here and she suddenly had eyes for no one else. Not that she’d ever had eyes for him, not really. They were friendly—he had hit it off with Stephen when he was a boy, and was as close to the Hallidays as anyone was. But not the way he wanted to be. He wanted to say all that, and he wanted to tell her how much he would give to have her call him my love and mean it. But he couldn’t.
    She was back with Baker now, as he had known she would be as soon as her bar duties had been discharged. Stephen had confirmed that she fancied him. He hadn’t really needed to hear Stephen say it, but he had hoped that it was just jealousy that was making him imagine that she looked at Baker the way she did. Evidently not.
    He supposed it really was jealousy that made him dislike Baker as much as he did, but he couldn’t be sure of that. Everyone else seemed to get on with him, but Jack didn’t like him and he didn’t trust him, and it seemed that Stephen felt the same way. If Grace got involved with him, she’d regret it, he was sure of that. A man like Baker would take whatever was on offer, and then he’d be off, without a qualm. He and his wife had split up over the South Coast murders business, because it was much more important to him than she was. Grace would do well to remember that.
    Jack sipped his drink at the bar, and tried to ignore the animated chat from their table. Stephen had said that Baker wasn’t interested in her, and he certainly didn’t seem to be making any sort of a play for her. In fact, he barely included her in what he was saying, to the point of ill manners, it seemed to Jack. So he probably didn’t have designs on her.
    But the way she had reacted to Baker underlined just how little chance Jack stood with her. He wondered whether or not to do what he had come to do, and decided that he would. From his inside pocket, he pulled out the long, thin envelope, and left it on the shelf under the bar for Grace to find when she cleared up in the morning.
             
    Innes Passage ran from Murchison Place to Waring Road, which formed a T-junction with Stansfield Road, dead ahead of the alley. The last twenty yards or so of the alleyway formed the side wall of the nightclub, and Tom and Judy became aware of the dull beat of the disco as they walked toward the snow-filled night. As they exited the alley, they stopped for a moment to get the lay of the land. Across Waring Road, to the right, was the car park, with exits onto Stansfield Road, which stretched straight ahead of them, and Waring Road itself.
    “Did Tony Baker have a view of the alleyway when he was in his car?” asked Judy.
    “No, he didn’t. He was parked right over there.” Tom pointed to the far corner. “I had a quick look in his car in case the murder weapon was in there,” he said, with a smile. “You can’t be too careful.”
    “Did you think it might be?”
    Tom wasn’t entirely sure. He had no reason to suspect Tony Baker, but there was something about his story that he didn’t like. He couldn’t put his finger on it. So he had walked him to his car, and, on the pretext of being interested in buying one like it, had even got him to open the boot.
    “No,” he said. “Not really. But he knew her. And we’ve only his word for it that he was in his car on his own during that time, so we can’t rule him out, can we?”
    “But you