Badge of Loyalty by Jude Tresswell

, anyway. Slim, early twenties, brown hair and jeans. Can’t do much with that. Can you come up with sumthin’ better?” asked Angells. He took his pen out of an inside pocket , ready to take some notes , but the barman wasn’t about to be rushed, or fazed, by Angells’ refusal to be side-tracked. Angells was left handed, and it was that hand that had gone to his pocket. “Nice wedding ring , too, Inspector,” he said, noting the broad gold band on Angells’ third finger. “Look , Inspector,” he explained good-naturedly, “I’d like to say that working in a gay bar six days a week gives me GESP—gay extrasensory perception—but I can’t. Ted over there—” He pointed to one of the bar staff , who waved in their direction and smiled. “He told me. You’re quite out about it, right? Though you don’t come in here.” “Sussed,” said Angells, acknowledging Ted’s wave and realising that he might have to take this slowly. At least he’d been offered a drink. “The body… Or would you like to see the weddin’ pictures first?” Hopefully not , as there weren’t any. The barman smiled. “I’m all yours,” he said , and told the DI as much as he was able. Angells spent the rest of his shift preparing for the meeting that would take place the next morning. By the time he’d collated all the reports , which the DCs were feeding him at a rate to cause indigestion in the strongest stomach, stuck pins onto boards to represent surveillance cameras and sightings of the man seen arguing with the victim, filled in the DCI an