This is Hull and East Riding -- Hull author *Nick Quantrill's* latest book *The Crooked Beat* is published on September 2 by Caffeine Nights. In this exclusive promotion, you can read the first five chapters here for free. And don't miss your chance to win a copy of The Crooked Beat signed by Nick. Details after the chapters below.When Joe Geraghty's brother finds himself in financial trouble, it's only natural that he turns to the Private Investigator for help. But when it relates to a missing consignment of smuggled cigarettes, it's not so easily sorted. Drawn into the murky world of local and international criminals around the busy port of Hull, Geraghty knows the only way to save his brother is to take on the debt himself. As he attempts to find a way out of the situation, the secrets and conspiracies he uncovers are so deeply buried in the past, he knows he's facing people willing to do whatever it takes to keep them that way.
*CHAPTER ONE* Niall only called me Joseph when he was in trouble. My brother didn't need to ask me twice. I put my mobile in my pocket and picked up my car keys. I was still working out of the office space rented by Ridley & Son, Private Investigators in the Old Town of Hull. I wasn't Don Ridley's son, but it didn't make the decision to close any easier. The lease still had a month to run, so it was a base for the time being. After that, I had no idea. I was now a former Private Investigator. Niall rented a lock-up on a housing estate. It was out to the east of the city, but I made good time by weaving through the rat-runs I knew. I parked up outside and made my way in. The lock-up was basic with four concrete walls, a bare floor and a light bulb with no shade dangling from the ceiling. My brother was making furniture for friends and family. The lock-up was effectively a small workshop. After working in the caravan industry for so many years, he had the joinery skills. It had gone unspoken, but I knew it had kept him occupied during the long days before he'd decided to go into business with some of his mates. Starting again in his mid-forties was brave, but I wasn't far behind that and had nothing. I took a step back and knocked on the door so he knew I was there. He stopped work on the wardrobe he was putting together. 'Thanks for coming so quickly.' 'Not a problem.' I looked at what he was working on. He was a craftsman, that much was clear. It was obvious to me that he took a lot of pleasure from his work. 'Already got a buyer lined up for it,' he said, following my gaze. My brother only spoke in his own time. He had something to say, but I would have to wait for him to get to the point. He nodded at the framed rugby league shirts and photographs in the corner. I walked over and carefully flicked through them. 'I thought we'd make a feature of Dad's stuff in the bar.' 'Good idea.' Our dad, Jimmy Geraghty, had played for Hull Kingston Rovers before retiring to become a publican. He'd been one of the club's finest ever fullbacks. It was a neat way of squaring the circle. 'We can put some of your stuff in, too, if you like?' 'I haven't got much to give you.' Injury had finished my rugby career early. Niall had always been content to watch. He never missed a game. He'd travelled all over with our dad to see them before continuing the tradition with his son, Connor, though Connor had stopped going once he'd hit his teenage years, preferring the football with his mates. Niall threw the rag into the corner and cleared his throat. 'I've done something stupid.' 'It can't be that bad.' 'Want to bet?' I stood alongside him. 'Nothing we can't sort out.' 'Not this time.' 'Why not?' I passed him over one of the deckchairs he stored at the back of the lock-up. We both sat down. 'Remember when I was doing the security work on the docks a couple of months ago?' I nodded. He'd got the work through an agency. 'One of the lads there needed some storage space and I helped him out.' 'Storage space?' 'Ted's still got the lock-up next door, but he hasn't been using it, so I borrowed it off him and gave him a few quid.' I didn't like where this was heading. 'What did you need to store?' 'Cigarettes.' 'Cigarettes?' 'I was looking after them for someone.' I understood what he was saying. Smuggled cigarettes. 'How many?' 'A thousand cartons.' 'How much money are we talking about?' Niall shrugged. 'Thousands, I suppose.' I didn't know what to say. However much we were talking about, it was serious. 'I need to put food on the table,' he said. 'I know.' I wasn't judging my brother. I took a breath, the decision made. 'We'll tell your mate that the space is no longer available. No harm done. We'll go and see him together if that makes it easier.' Niall shook his head. 'I can't back out of it now.' 'Why not?' 'Someone's stolen them.'
*•* I made it clear to Niall that if I was to help him, I had to know everything. We walked across to Ted's lock-up. I stopped for a moment and glanced up at the four tower blocks which surrounded us. Maybe someone had seen what had happened, but there was no way of knowing. There were too many doors to knock on and it wouldn't change anything. Ted's lock-up was exactly the same as Niall's. 'I've replaced the lock,' Niall said. 'Same model. I don't want Ted to know what's happened. No point worrying him. He won't even notice.' I'd met Ted. He was an old man looking to make a bit of money. He didn't need to be involved. The lock was heavy duty. I knew they weren't always effective and appearances were deceptive, but weighing it in my hand, it would have been more than enough to put off an opportunistic thief. 'Who did the cigarettes belong to?' I asked. 'I don't know.' He paused. 'My contact is Terry Gillespie, a mate from security on the docks.' 'Where does he live?' Niall only knew the street, so we returned to his garage. He had a stack of old telephone directories. I made a note of the address we needed. We joined the early evening traffic on the ring road heading for King George Dock. Lorry after lorry lined up to board the commercial ferries which taxied between Hull and continental Europe. To me, it was still the heartbeat of the city, our reason for existing. I parked up outside Gillespie's house. Niall said he hadn't visited it before. It was the same as any other on the street. I knocked on the door. Gillespie wasn't thrilled to see us. I put my foot in the doorframe to stop him shutting us out. He relented and we followed him into his living room. 'Lucky to catch me,' he said. 'I'm on my days off now.' I looked around the room. The place was a mess. Aside from the dated and tatty decor, takeaway cartons and dirty plates littered the settee and chairs. 'You staring at?' Gillespie asked me. 'You might want to think about washing up once in a while.' Gillespie spoke to Niall. 'Who is he?' 'My brother,' he said. 'A Private Investigator.' Gillespie laughed. 'Seriously?' I told Gillespie to sit down. 'I want to know about the cigarettes.' 'It's none of your business.' I walked over to the window and took a deep breath. I'd taken an instant dislike to the man. 'You've involved my brother in your grubby world, so it is my problem.' 'You come into my house, turn your nose up at it, and expect me to help you?' I shrugged. 'Like I care what you think.' I walked across the room to him. 'But you need to understand I'm the only person who's going to help you at the moment.' Gillespie spoke. 'The cigs were in your lock-up, Niall. You're the one who messed up.' 'Your problem, too,' I said. 'Do you think this is going to go away? You know how many cigarettes were in the lock-up, so you can do the sums.' I didn't want to say it in front of Niall, but Gillespie wasn't giving me a choice. 'You're not walking away from this.' The room went quiet. I couldn't look at Niall. Gillespie understood what I was saying, though. 'Tell me what happened. From the start.' Gillespie knew what was good for him and started to speak. 'I've worked on the docks for years. These things go on.' 'I'm sure they do.' 'I was asked if I could help store these cigarettes which were coming in. That was all. The problem was that they were coming in the following day and I didn't have anywhere to store them myself.' 'So you thought you'd drag Niall into it?' 'He didn't need dragging into anything.' 'How were they were smuggled into the country?' 'No idea.' I let it go. I wasn't too bothered about the mechanics of the situation. What was done was done. 'Who else knows?' I asked him. 'No one.' He knew what I was working up to. 'Someone turned a blind eye at the docks? Who was it?' 'I can't tell you that.' 'You don't have a choice. If anyone comes looking for Niall, I won't hesitate to point them in your direction. And I promise whatever happens to him will be twice as bad for you.' Gillespie took my point. 'The only one I knew about was Peter Hill.' 'Who's he?' 'Customs guy.' 'Where will I find him?' 'He lives somewhere off Sutton Road.' I made a note of the address. That was all he had for me. I nodded to Niall that we were done here for now. I picked up a beer-mat, scribbled my mobile number down and threw it at Gillespie. 'We'll be speaking again soon.' I certainly wasn't finished with him.
*•* We didn't speak as we drove west towards the bar. Niall wanted to put a couple of hours' work in. The opening night was only three days away. I also knew it was his way of zoning the problem out. The visit to Gillespie had left me thinking and acting like a PI again. That had been the way Niall had introduced me. I was worried I quite liked it. We drove past the new Craven Park. Building work was ongoing as the ground expanded. The club had played there for over twenty years now, but it wasn't the same to me. The old Craven Park was the place I'd made my memories, both as a player and as a supporter. Now the site housed a supermarket. Seemingly, it was progress. 'I'm not cut out for this kind of thing,' my brother eventually said. 'I'm a family man.' I wondered if that meant I wasn't a family man? That I'd never be a family man? Was I the opposite of Niall? Were the two things mutually exclusive? All I knew was that you play the hand you're dealt. You either deal with it or you fall to pieces. I turned onto Hedon Road. We both stared at the docks as we sped past. The last few lorries boarded the ferries with their cargo. Hull Prison stood on the other side of the road. I knew he was making the connection to the situation he was in. I got down to business. 'What do you know about Gillespie?' 'Not a lot.' It was going to be hard work. I started with the easy question. 'Does he live alone?' 'His wife died a couple of years ago.' 'Kids?' 'Doesn't see much of them.' 'Has he always worked on the docks?' 'He used to have a proper job on them, but it went years ago.' It sounded about right. 'Got a lot of mates on there, then?' 'He knows everyone.' We pulled up at the traffic lights on Myton Bridge. 'Do you think he's capable of taking the cigarettes and ripping you off?' 'He wouldn't.' I didn't need to spell it out. Someone had stolen them. 'He's top of my list.' Niall stared out of the window. 'He took me under his wing and showed me the ropes.' He turned back to me. 'He was a mate.' I put the car in gear and drove. We passed the marina and its moored yachts. The stupidity of one the city centre's jewels being separated from the rest of the city centre by Castle Street, a fast moving dual carriageway, never failed to amaze me. A handful of people were out walking, admiring the boats. 'People aren't always what they seem,' I said. 'We're skint,' he said. 'The redundancy is all but gone on the bar and Ruth is out working all hours.' 'How's she's doing?' I asked. 'She's solid. ' He paused for a moment. 'She's carrying us along.' 'How about Connor?' 'He's at that funny age, isn't he? Thinks he's a man, but he's really still a boy. She tells me it'll pass.' 'I thought he was helping to get the bar sorted?' 'Not really. Reckons he's out working already. All I know is that he's out all hours but I still can't actually tell you what he does.' He shrugged. 'What does a nightclub promoter do? You tell me.' I didn't have an answer. The world had changed. Niall knew that more than most. 'I don't want him to end up like me. I've tried to speak to him, but there's no way of getting through to him. His mate, Milo, has been filling his head with all these daft ideas. He needs to think properly about his future.' 'He's still a kid.' 'He's twenty, Joe.' 'Exactly.' We both laughed. 'It reminds me of you and dad,' Niall said. 'You drove him crazy.' 'I had no idea what I wanted to do at twenty, that's for sure.' 'Dad wanted you out there, working.' 'I did work.' 'Not a proper job, though. Not the kind of job he wanted you to have.' Our dad hadn't foreseen the industry being slowly ripped out of the city. I drove down North Road, past what remained of Boothferry Park, the former home of Hull City. The land had been bulldozed and new houses were being built. Even the six magnificent floodlights had now gone. I turned on to Spring Bank West, heading towards Chanterlands Avenue and the bar. 'Why didn't you tell me what was going on?' We'd pulled up at the level crossing as it went down. 'You've got enough on your plate.' He looked away again, staring out of the window. 'Besides, it's not something to brag about, is it?' 'I could have helped.' 'I thought I could handle it.' 'I assume Ruth doesn't know?' 'No.' The train passed and the level crossing went back up. I took a left onto Chanterlands Avenue and thought again about Gillespie. I didn't like the man, but more than that, he struck me as exactly the kind of person who would see my brother as an easy target. I pulled up outside the bar. Niall got out of the car and turned back to me before he closed the door. 'I'm really not cut out for this kind of thing, Joe.'
*•* I'd taken a telephone call the previous day from Roger Millfield, a local accountant, asking for a meeting. He'd asked if I could spare him half an hour. It was the least I could do. When Don and I had the partnership, we'd done a lot of bread and butter work for professional firms. It had often been tedious, but it had kept us ticking over. It was also a chance to put the thought of Niall's problem to one side for a short while. His office was on High Street. The area had changed over time. Where once the city's wealth was built on the goods housed in the warehouses which lined the area, they now housed the innovative design companies, government funded projects and one-man start-ups which would hopefully propel the city forward. His receptionist told me to take a seat. I flicked through the local newspaper as I waited. Millfield was a self-made man who had started at the bottom of his profession and worked his way up. I respected that. He was pushing sixty and probably not too far off retirement. He appeared and held his hand out to me. 'Nice to see you, Joe.' I shook it before following him through to his office. He had a photograph of his daughter, Rebecca, taking pride of place on his desk. I asked after her. 'She's just finished her exams and qualified, so I want to bring her on here. One day, she'll take over. I've never known someone pass all their exams at such a young age.' I knew she was in her mid-twenties. I was impressed. 'Can you pass on my congratulations?' He said he would. 'I hear you and Don aren't working together now.' 'That's right.' 'Are you freelancing?' To my mind, I was now a former Private Investigator. One chapter of my life had closed and another one was about to open. What that would be, I had no idea. But for all of my desire to start again, I had my brother's problem to think about. If I put aside the fact it was personal, it wasn't so far removed from my previous life. Millfield must have sensed my reluctance to answer. 'I've got a job I need doing,' he said. I didn't dismiss it out of hand. I needed to earn some money, too. 'Could be matrimony.' I'd done this kind of work for him before. He made no apologies for the fact he took care of his clients. If an important client was thinking about selling their business, they'd often want to make sure things were solid at home, that there were no surprises waiting. It was a horrible line of work, but you couldn't always pick and choose. As a consequence, he'd used his contacts with solicitors to get us work delivering warrants and court orders. I knew I owed the man. 'Which client?' He shook his head and pointed to the photograph on his desk. His wife, Kath. 'Are you sure?' I said. He nodded. 'I've answered several dead telephone calls now. I know something's not right.' 'What do you want me to do?' 'I was assuming you would tell me that, Joe.' I stood up. 'I'll be in touch.' I was back in work.
*CHAPTER TWO*
I needed to speak to everyone who knew the cigarettes were being kept in the lock-up. It didn't seem to extend beyond Terry Gillespie and Peter Hill. They would be who I focused on. It was a starting point, but no more. I was going to need help. I headed straight to Sarah's house. She was Don's daughter, but she bore no grudge over the way things had finished, even though she had good reason to. As usual, I had to park a couple of streets away. The area was dense terracing, often two cars to every house. We'd ridden out a rough period between us, but our relationship was healing. I was pleased. Sarah was the nearest thing I had to a friend. She let me in and we went through to her kitchen and sat down at the table. 'How's your dad doing?' I asked her. 'He's alright.' 'Still thinking about a life in the sun in Spain?' Sarah smiled. 'Talking about it, but he'll never go. It's not him. He'll go and stay with his sister for a bit and hate it. It might be cold and wet, but Hull's in his blood. He can't leave it behind.' 'Sounds about right.' That was the Don I knew. He wasn't one for being far from home. 'Do you want to eat?' I declined. I wasn't hungry, but it was a nice gesture. Just like the old days. I watched her eat. I was too distracted to concentrate on the television while I waited. She finished and put her plate down. 'Niall's done something stupid,' I said. 'Poor Ruth.' I shook my head. 'Not like that.' She got on well with Niall's wife. It was easy to. My brother had chosen well. I liked her a lot. We'd had some good nights out together over the years. I knew Niall would never do anything to jeopardise that part of his life. He wasn't that stupid. 'I need your help,' I said. I'd made a mess of things with Sarah in the past, but I trusted her. I'd made a promise to Don that I wouldn't put her in danger again. I had no idea where this was going to lead us, but I knew it wasn't going to be pleasant. I felt bad, but I couldn't do this alone. 'I thought you'd never ask.' Sarah had always made it clear she made her own decisions. She was nobody's fool and no pushover. 'What do you need me to do?' she said. I told her about the cigarettes. And the fact they were missing. 'What are we going to do about it?' she asked me. I smiled this time. Partners. 'I want you to look into Terry Gillespie for me.' I had plans myself for Peter Hill.
*•* I waited until the morning and set my plan into action. Peter Hill was the link to the missing cigarettes, so I needed to speak to him. I didn't want to door-step him, though. It wouldn't do anyone any good, especially when I saw two young children waving him off as he left for the day. He was driving a blue Vauxhall Astra which was easy to follow. He pulled out of his cul-de-sac on to Sutton Road, heading towards the docks. The overnight ferries from Holland and Belgium would be in, and as well as the commercial freight, tourists would be spilling off, eager to head west to places like York and Leeds, spending their money elsewhere. There was a bus between us, but I kept him in sight. The bus turned right at the Holderness Road traffic lights. I tucked in behind him. The rush hour traffic was starting to build as commuters headed for the city centre. I stayed behind Hill as we crossed the Preston Road junction. It was now or never. I flashed my headlights repeatedly at him. He got the message, indicated and pulled over. I came to a stop behind him. He was already getting out of his car. He was in his early thirties, but already had the start of a middle-aged spread around his middle. 'Is it my brake light again, mate?' he asked me. 'No.' He looked confused. 'What's the problem, then?' 'I didn't want to knock on your front door.' He took a step back, the colour draining from his face. 'I'm not going to hurt you. I need to talk to you about the cigarettes and Terry Gillespie.' 'I don't know what you're talking about.' I ignored the lie. 'I need to talk to you.' He relented, knowing he had no choice. He was probably expecting someone far worse than me to come knocking. 'I'm at due at work in ten minutes.' 'Fair enough.' 'I'll give you a call?' I shook my head. 'What time's your lunch?' 'I usually work through it.' 'Not today.' 'One o'clock,' he eventually said. I named the Asda on Mount Pleasant, a couple of miles away. It was the nearest place I could think of. 'I'll be in the cafe.' He started to walk back to his car. I called after him. 'By the way, your brake light isn't working.'
Niall was hard at work when I arrived at the bar. He pointed to the corner he was earmarking for our dad's Hull KR shirts. 'Perfect,' I said. Niall stopped working. 'I didn't sleep last night.' I took a breath. There wasn't much I could say to help. I knew how tough it was on him. 'Where's Connor?' 'In bed somewhere.' 'Right.' 'He'll be at a mate's house or his girlfriend's place.' Niall picked up his paintbrush. 'But he's certainly not where he should be.' 'Tried ringing him?' 'He knows where I am.' I changed the subject and asked about the cigarettes. 'Any word?' 'Nothing.' 'It makes me nervous.' Niall smiled. 'It makes you nervous?' 'Fair point.' 'Six months ago, I had a normal job and was looking forward to booking a holiday. These days, I'm scared of my own shadow.' I wasn't sure what to say to that. I told him I'd caught up with Peter Hill. 'What did he have to say?' 'I'm meeting him later to talk properly.' 'Do you want me to come along?' 'Don't worry about it,' I wanted to talk to Hill alone. 'What do you know about him?' Niall stopped painting. 'Not a lot, really. I used to see him about the place. That's all.' 'Did you ever see him talking to Gillespie?' 'I don't think so.' 'I need you to think harder.' Niall shook his head 'It wasn't for my ears. I only said Gillespie could use my lock-up because he was desperate. I didn't get involved in the details.'
*•* I was sure Gillespie knew more about the missing cigarettes than he'd told me. He could easily have stolen them and left Niall to take the rap. Regardless, he was the best lead I had and there was still some time before my meeting with Peter Hill. I called Sarah. She was free and willing to help. If Gillespie was involved, he had to make a move. And he'd confirmed to me he wasn't working today. It was worth taking a chance. I picked up Sarah from her house and we drove across the city. I parked up away from Gillespie's house so he wouldn't see us, but close enough for us to see any movement. It was a fishing expedition, but I needed to do something. Sarah took me through what she'd found out about him. 'He's got a record.' 'How did he end up working in security?' She shrugged. 'It was a long time ago and he's not been in trouble since. We're talking decades ago.' 'Right.' Maybe his conviction was spent. I knew a lot of young men grew out of crime, that it was nothing more than youthful stupidity. But it didn't feel right. It said something about the man's character. We stared at his house until Sarah took an envelope out her bag. 'I'll give him a knock.' It was a trick we'd worked in the past. If one of us was unknown to our target, we'd knock on the door claiming to have a letter or delivery. If our target answered the door, we'd deliberately give a false name. If they didn't answer the door, we had a ready-made and plausible reason to be knocking on their neighbour's door. And that was often when we got some useful information. I watched as Sarah talked to Gillespie's neighbour before returning to the car. 'We'll find him at the shops,' she said. 'Right.' I knew the layout of the area. The square of shops also contained a bookies and a pub. It was a short drive away. We discussed a plan as we drove. The best we could do was that Sarah would walk about until she spotted him. I parked up in the centre of the shops. It didn't take her long to find him. He was watching the horse racing. Sarah went into the newsagent and got us chocolate, drinks and a newspaper. We only had to wait thirty minutes. Gillespie came outside and lit a cigarette. Five minutes later a taxi collected him. Sarah told me to follow. It was becoming a habit. I hung back as best I could without losing sight of him. The taxi dropped Gillespie off at a pub on Hedon Road. It was set slightly back from the dual carriageway. From the outside it was run-down and in poor condition. I looked up at the shabby paintwork around the window frames and the weathered bricks. The net curtains were grey. No wonder the place was largely ignored by potential customers. 'You can't go in,' Sarah said. I nodded. We both knew it belonged to George Sutherland. He was a name from my past. I'd previously worked for his wife. She'd tired of his affairs over the years. It had been a simple job. I'd followed him discreetly for a couple of weeks. It had been one of my easiest jobs. He'd used a cheap chain hotel on the edge of the city centre, the woman an employee of his. It did mean I wasn't going to be welcome. On paper, Sutherland was a legitimate businessman, but the man had given off an unpleasant vibe. I recognised his black heart. I'd quickly learned he'd worked for Frank Salford in the past. Salford had been one of an exclusive group of criminals who'd exercised a grip on organised crime in the city. He'd died a couple of years ago. Cancer, rather than violence. Our paths had crossed and I wasn't upset to learn he'd suffered before dying. I hadn't dug any deeper into Sutherland than that. I'd simply passed over the photographic evidence to his wife and left it at that. 'Gillespie didn't see me at the shops,' Sarah said. 'He had his back to me.' Before I had chance to reply, she was out of the car and walking towards the entrance. I had to wait it out. There was little to look at. The pub stood in isolation. Most of the industry which had once surrounded it was long gone. The Fenner and Humbrol factories had once employed hundreds. A new office complex was in the process of being built on the Humbrol site and a haulage firm had opened next to it. Further along, the greasy spoon was still there, a throwback to past days. I grew increasingly impatient waiting for Sarah to reappear. Nothing much happened. I saw a handful of drinkers come and go. They were all like Gillespie. It didn't appear personal hygiene was a priority for any of them. A sign in the window let me know the place was more than a pub. It offered bed and breakfast and hot meals. The £20 per night including meals meant it was definitely aiming to appeal to the less picky traveller. Sarah walked out of the pub and got back into my car. I turned to her. 'How did it go?' 'Let's say it's not a forward-thinking kind of place. I don't think women are a regular feature in there. I feel like I need a shower.' 'Doesn't surprise me.' Sarah changed the subject back to Gillespie. 'He was meeting people in there.' 'Friends?' 'I wouldn't say so.' It was interesting but it didn't necessarily mean anything. It went towards building a picture, though. I started the car and pulled away.
*•* As we drove away, I explained to Sarah that I had a meeting lined up with Peter Hill and that it needed to be alone. 'He's nervous enough as it is,' I said, explaining that he was the inside man at Customs. 'Another face might push him too far.' 'Makes sense,' she said. I could tell she wasn't happy about it, but I also needed her to find out what she could about Roger Millfield and his wife. I needed to keep on top of things in that respect. I dropped her in the city centre at the office and agreed to head straight there once I'd spoken to Hill. I found Peter Hill waiting for me in the corner of the supermarket cafe, well away from the shoppers. It was as close as we were going to get privacy. I went straight over to him. 'You're late,' he said. 'I've got to get back to work.' 'Did you get your brake light sorted?' He looked at me like I was mad. 'I've been at work.' I told him to follow me out to my car. 'Why?' I leaned in closer to him. The place was busy with shoppers taking a break. Families, pensioners and children. 'I'm not talking to you in here.' 'I don't know who you are.' 'Niall's brother.' He relaxed and followed me to my car and got in the passenger seat. 'We need to get a few things straight about the missing cigarettes,' I told him. He stared out of the window. 'I'm very sorry to hear about what's happened, but this isn't my fault. It's your brother's problem to sort out.' I put him straight and told him he was involved and every bit as liable. He was scared, but I wasn't too bothered by that. The sooner he came around to my way of thinking, the better. I could see a tear forming in the corner of his eye. 'This wasn't supposed to happen,' he said. 'But it has, so you're going to have to deal with it.' I relented a little. 'Start at the beginning,' I told him. 'I'm the only friend you've got at the moment.' 'I was under pressure, alright? My wife worked for the council, but she lost her job. You know how it is?' 'Tell me how it is.' 'I'm skint. That's how it is. I owe money on my credit cards, I owe money on my mortgage and the kids need new things for school. This bloke approached me and suggested I could earn a bit extra if I turned a blind eye to a few things at work. Nothing serious, I was told. I needed the cash, so I didn't say no to the idea at first.' 'Terry Gillespie?' He was surprised that I knew the name, but nodded his agreement. 'What did he want you to do?' 'I had to make sure a consignment of DVDs got through with no problems. It was only a small thing, nothing too serious. That's all it was.' 'And you did it?' 'I'm not proud of the fact. I told him it was a one-off. I wasn't prepared to do it again.' 'But he came back wanting more?' 'He passed me on to the people he was working for. Bad people. I was told if I didn't follow the instructions I was given, I'd lose my job. And that was just for starters. They wanted some cigarettes bringing through this time.' I couldn't believe the man's naivety. 'Have you mentioned my brother to anyone?' He shook his head. 'I wouldn't do that.' I stared until he looked away. I was sure he'd got the message. 'What about the police? Why didn't you go to them?' 'How could I? I was stupid, but they made it very clear what would happen if I did. They sent me photos of my kids running around in the school playground.' Hill had my attention. 'If they can get to them at school, they can get to them anywhere.' I felt bad hearing his story, but I needed the details. 'Tell me about the cigarettes.' 'They smuggled them in through big coffee tins. They're just the right size. Some of them were emptied out and the cartons were packed in with sweetcorn, so it'd feel and sound right if they were inspected. It was all catering supplies. All I know was that it was something that they'd been planning for a while. Months, probably. But things changed. I was told they were arriving and I had to deal with them. I tried to explain it wasn't my job to sort it out. My job was to look the other way, but they needed somewhere to store them. I didn't have a choice in the matter. I went back to Gillespie. He said he knew someone with a lock-up. It was the best we could do at short notice. It was only going to be for a couple of days.' 'Right.' 'You can't tell anyone about this.' 'Who do they belong to?' I asked. He told me he didn't know. He was genuinely scared. I knew he was nothing more than a family man who was in over his head, but I couldn't afford to let him off the hook. 'Don't lie to me,' I said. 'I need to know who they belonged to.' 'I don't know.' I sat back in my chair. 'You've got to give me something. It's the only way I can help.' I hated the look of gratitude on his face as I spoke. I wasn't doing this for him. 'They gave me a mobile. It's pay-as-you-go, so I have to top it up. The man who's in charge calls me, but I don't know his name. He withholds his number, so I can't call him. I have to wait for him to contact me.' I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, unsure of my next move. 'And you've got no idea who he is?' Hill shook his head. 'I only see his workers, Tom and Jerry. I'm sure that's not their real names.' I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice as I agreed with him. I knew pay-as-you-go meant the mobile would be untraceable. It would all be cash and false addresses. Even so, I asked to see it. Hill rummaged about in his pocket and passed it over. I scrolled through the list of calls. All withheld numbers. There was nothing. 'One of the men sent me a text message,' Hill said. I worked out how to access them and found the one I wanted. It was dated a few days before the cigarettes were stolen from the lock-up. The message told Hill that he should be ready. His guests would be arriving the following morning. Guests obviously meant the cigarettes. It made sense, but sending a text message was a basic error. I transferred the number it had come from into my mobile and told him to go back to work.
*•* It felt strange to be back in the office we'd shared as Ridley & Son. Sarah was sitting in what had been her usual place. I found myself doing the same. We had a desk and chair each, but that was it. Don had arranged for all our case files to be held in storage. The office felt twice as large without the rest of the furniture. I stared at the carpet and could see the marks the now-removed filing cabinets had left. The walls were bare. The framed prints we'd displayed had all been bought for next to nothing in the nearby indoor market, but the room felt wrong without them there. It was like there was no trace of the company ever existing. Within a couple of weeks, another business would be in – accountants, IT support, solicitors – it could be anything. Time moved on. 'How did it go?' Sarah asked me. 'You first,' I said. She passed me a folder full of print-outs. 'Have a look at this.' I waved it away. 'The highlights will be fine.' 'Kath Millfield's an interesting character. Married to Roger for almost thirty years. She's now head of a charity which works with children to improve their literacy skills outside of school. It seems like she started it as something to occupy herself when her husband was working long hours and it just snowballed. She came from nothing as a child, brought up in a rough part of Hull with few opportunities. You know the drill. She worked hard to improve herself and the charity became a big success. Inspirational, you might say.' 'I wouldn't disagree.' Sarah smiled. 'That's not what you wanted to know about her.' 'Not really.' 'It seems there are plenty of people who don't like her.' She pointed to her laptop, which was switched on and displaying a photograph of Kath Millfield. 'She's in her mid-fifties, but she's still glamorous and likes people to know it. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that men are threatened by women with beauty and brains.' I feigned mock outrage. Sarah slapped me on the arm before continuing. 'But seriously, you don't achieve what she has without ruffling a few feathers.' 'How so?' 'I don't think she's got many friends in the world of education.' 'No?' 'Think about it. She's more or less accusing the schools of not doing their jobs properly. She's well liked in the local media, and she knows how to play the game, but she has plenty of detractors.' I entered Kath Millfield into Google and flicked through the photographs it brought up of her. The majority had been taken at social and charity functions. One man constantly appeared alongside the Millfields. I pointed to the man and asked Sarah if she knew him. 'Neil Farr,' she said. 'Who's he?' 'A local solicitor.' 'Right.' It was all useful background. I clicked off the Internet. 'Your turn,' Sarah said. I repeated what Peter Hill had told me. I was beginning to feel guilty about the way I'd spoken to him. 'Heavy stuff,' she said. I knew it was never going to be pleasant, but hearing Hill's story had brought it home to me. Niall had a serious problem, and that meant I had, too. I was dealing with organised criminals. 'I've got the telephone number of one of the people threatening Hill.' 'What are you going to do?' she asked me. 'I'm not sure.' 'You've no idea who this guy is, or who he's working for?' 'None at all.' Sarah stood up. 'I'll tell you what you're going to do.' She picked up her bag and rummaged around inside it. She held out a SIM card to me and smiled.
*CHAPTER THREE* I put the old SIM into my mobile and entered the number. A man answered. 'Who's this?' I said. 'Who are you?' 'I asked first.' 'Don't waste my time.' Before he had chance to finish the call, I told him I had the cigarettes. I glanced at Sarah and waited for the man to say something. He eventually said I should give them back. 'We need to talk, then,' I said. 'Top of the path which leads to the Lord Line Building.' It was next to St Andrews Quay Retail Park which would be busy enough for our purposes. It was the best place I could think of quickly. Now derelict and long abandoned, it had once been a thriving office at the heart of the dock, sitting there proudly overseeing the fishing fleet and the River Humber. 'How will I recognise you?' he said. 'I'll recognise you.' I said he had half an hour to get there and terminated the call.
*•* We left Sarah's house and headed for the meeting. Next to the footpath was a large car park which served a range of electrical and furniture shops. We parked between two other cars. The shops were still open for another couple of hours, so people were busy going about their business. We wouldn't be noticed. The man we were waiting for eventually appeared and stood where instructed. We watched and waited. I was pretty certain he was by himself. He wasn't nervous. He was casually waiting for me to make myself known to him. I had no intention of doing that. I waited until he relaxed and started to walk about on the spot to keep warm. I glanced at Sarah. She was holding a small digital camera in her hand. 'Now, I reckon.' She quickly took a couple of shots and passed me the camera. I scrolled through the photographs. 'Perfect.' I passed the camera back, started the car and joined the steady stream of the traffic leaving the shops.
*•* Before I headed to Niall's bar, we returned to Sarah's house and she printed me off a photograph of the man. The light at the bar was still on. Niall had been working hard. I guessed it would be opening on schedule. I walked over to the far corner and looked at the display of our dad's rugby league memorabilia. The shirts made for a great feature. Someone had sourced copies of newspaper articles and framed them. He'd played at Wembley in the mid-sixties. Hull KR's first ever appearance in the Challenge Cup Final. I was lost in thought and didn't hear Niall walk up and stand next to me. 'Alright?' he said. I fingered the photograph in my pocket. 'You're doing a great job.' I turned to look at him. He'd been beaten. He'd cleaned his face up, but I could see the swelling and the cuts. We stared at each other. 'What happened?' I said. 'It doesn't matter.' 'Of course it matters.' 'It was obvious someone was going to catch up with me sooner or later.' 'What did he say?' 'He wanted the money.' I took the photograph out and showed it to him. 'Was it him?' Niall nodded his confirmation. I told him how I'd got it. 'Any idea who he is?' He shook his head. 'No idea.' I'd asked Sarah to find out what she could. He had to be known. 'Could do without this,' Niall said. 'The bar opens in a couple of nights' time. I'll look a mess.' There was nothing I could say to that. The bruises would fade, but he'd have to wait it out. 'I'm going to call it a night,' he said. 'Do you want a lift home?' 'Wouldn't say no.' We locked up and left. We drove across the city in silence until I pulled up outside his house. 'Do you want to come in, Joe?' I looked at his face and thought of Ruth sitting inside, waiting. He had a lot of explaining to do. 'I'll leave you to it.'
*•* Although I'd asked Sarah to do what she could identify the man, I couldn't let it go. I had to do something. He'd attacked my brother and I was worried my nephew was going to be next. I headed for Terry Gillespie's house. I hadn't paid much attention when I'd first visited. It was a standard council terraced house. His front garden was overgrown and in need of some work. I knocked loudly on his door. No answer. All the windows were closed and the lights were off. I knocked again and shouted through the letterbox. Eventually, one of his neighbours came out. 'What do you think you're doing?' he said. I wasn't going to back down. 'Looking for Terry.' 'Try the pub.' He pointed down the road. I knew where he meant. I nodded and thanked him. I found Terry Gillespie standing by himself at the bar, watching the football on the big screen. I ordered a drink and joined him. He'd received the same treatment as Niall. His nose had been broken and his left eye had closed over. Dried blood marked his face. I stood alongside him. 'My ribs are killing me,' he said. It was superficial damage. Enough to hurt, but not enough to do him serious damage. 'Who did it?' 'It doesn't matter.' 'How many of them?' 'What does it matter?' 'I want to know.' He eventually answered. 'Just the one. You don't need an army to sort me out these days.' 'Who was it?' 'No idea.' 'You'd never seen him before?' 'Never.' 'What did he look like?' He described the man. It could have been any number of men in the city. He was lying to me. He knew exactly who'd worked him over. I'd been wrong in thinking that he'd taken the cigarettes from Niall's lock-up, but something wasn't right. Gillespie pushed his glass towards me. 'Getting them in or what? Bitter.' He gestured to his mate who had walked in. 'His is a lager.' I told him to find a table before ordering the drinks. I left the lager for his mate on the bar and walked across the room to him. I put the drinks on the table and sat down. 'What about the cigs?' he said. 'Found them yet?' 'Not yet.' He shrugged. 'They can keep beating me if they like. It won't change anything.' I watched as he sipped at the drink I'd bought him. He was right. He had nothing to lose. Niall and Peter Hill had plenty to lose. I showed him the photograph of the man I'd seen at St Andrews Quay. 'Does he look familiar?' He glanced at it before quickly turning away. He passed the photograph back. 'No idea.' I held it back out to him. 'Do you want to have another look?' 'No point.' 'I don't believe you.' He picked his drink up. 'Can't tell you what I don't know.' He was definitely rattled. I stood up and walked back to the bar. I showed the photograph to Gillespie's mate. 'Any ideas?' He glanced at it and nodded before shouting across to Gillespie. 'That's Alan Palmer's lad, isn't it? Carl?' He passed me the photograph back. 'Nasty piece of work, the pair of them, that's for sure.' I thanked them. Hull really was like a large village at times.
*•* I'd done what I could for now. I headed back to my flat. It was one of five in a converted house on Westbourne Avenue. I sat down for a moment in my living room in the hope I could make sense of what had happened during the day. My mobile vibrated. I took it out of my pocket and read the text message. Niall had told Ruth he'd been mugged. I doubted she believed him, but if that was the official line, I'd play along with it. I needed to eat, so I heated up a tin of soup. I found some bread to accompany it and sat back down. I needed to make some connections between what I knew. My concentration was broken by the noise of the buzzer to my flat. I put the soup down and walked over to the window. A car drove off, loud music escaping from its open windows. I couldn't see who was at the door, so I went into the kitchen and picked up a pan. It was the best I had to hand. I left my flat and walked down the stairs to the front door and carefully opened it. It was Connor. 'Can I come up?' he said. I relaxed and closed the door behind him. Back in my flat, I put the pan away and found two bottles of beer. 'Did your mate just drop you off?' I asked. 'That was Milo.' I'd fed him bottles of milk when he was a baby. Now I was feeding him bottles of beer. And it didn't feel all that long ago. Debbie and I had regularly looked after him so Niall and Ruth could enjoy a night out. Those had been happy days. We'd played along with the situation, wondering what it'd be like to have a child of our own. Her death in a house fire had put an end to that. 'I'm worried about Dad,' Connor said, drawing me back to the present. I swallowed a mouthful of lager. 'He's working hard. He'll have the bar ready in no time. Once it's open, he'll be fine.' 'What if nobody comes?' 'People always want a drink.' Niall was a proud man. I admired the fact he'd worked hard all his life and stuck at things. Loud factories and long hours hadn't bothered him. I knew he could make a success of anything. I asked Connor how the club promoting was going. Connor shrugged. 'They don't take me seriously.' 'Who?' 'Mum and Dad.' 'I'm sure they do.' 'Dad doesn't.' 'He's out of his comfort zone. Don't be too hard on him.' The world had changed. Hull was changing. I knew leisure and consumerism was where it was at. Maybe green technology would be the next big thing. I certainly didn't have any of the answers. 'I'm trying to get something off the ground in a club,' he said. 'Our own night. It's not easy.' 'With Milo?' 'He's got the contacts to get us started.' I couldn't be too hard on him. My dream had been to play for Hull KR, but like my dad, it hadn't have provided much of a living for either of us. It was never going to be a career. Not that I was given the chance to see how far I could push it. One bad tackle and it was all over. I passed Connor another beer and asked him the question that was on my mind. 'Why did you take the cigarettes?' He was peeling the sticker on the bottle, avoiding eye contact. 'That's why you've come here, isn't it?' The tiniest nod of his head. I waited for him to speak. I stared out of the window into the darkness. There was no way someone had stumbled on to the cigarettes by accident. I'd seen the lock. Terry Gillespie just wanted the easy money. And I didn't see Peter Hill having it in him to double-cross people. He was in over his head. It didn't leave many suspects. No one else knew the cigarettes were in the lock-up. It had to be someone close. It only left Connor. 'I heard Dad on the telephone talking about them,' he eventually said. 'I told Milo about them and he said we should sell them to get the club night up and running. I didn't think it through properly.' I swallowed a mouthful of beer. Sometimes the most stupid decisions are no more than that. Especially when you're young. 'You can't tell my dad.' I hadn't thought that far ahead. 'What did you do with them?' 'Milo said he knew someone who'd take them off our hands.' 'Who bought them?' 'I don't know. Milo sorted it.' 'Who is Milo?' I asked, more interested in him now. 'He's a mate. I met him out clubbing a while back. He's got some great ideas about what the city's nightlife needs. Everyone thinks he's the business.' 'And you wanted to be in the mix with him?' 'Something like that.' He didn't sound too clever to me. I was going to speak to speak to him. 'Where will I find him?' 'Don't tell my dad. Please. I'll sort it.' I put my drink down. 'How are you going to sort it, Connor?' He stood up. 'I shouldn't have come here. It's not your problem.' I stood up, too. 'If it concerns my family, it is my problem.' 'I'll get the money from somewhere.' He handed me his empty beer bottle. 'It's my mess to sort out, Uncle Joe.'
*•* Connor left. I watched him go before putting some music on low. I had to stop the police ruining Connor's life before it had even started. I stared at the wall in front of me. Things were a mess. I knew Connor wasn't a bad lad, but like most at his age, he'd gone off the rails a bit. It would break Niall's heart to know Connor had taken the cigarettes. I couldn't tell him. I tried to put it to the back of my mind and enjoy the music. My mobile vibrated. A text message from Sarah. Could I meet her at Hull Royal Infirmary? Don had been attacked. She was in the café waiting on news. I let the news sink in before slowly easing myself up. I'd drunk three bottles of beer without even realising, and that was enough these days to knock me slightly off-kilter. I found my coat and locked up. The cool air helped to clear my head straight as I walked to the hospital. Hull Royal Infirmary was my least favourite building in the city. The ever-present scaffolding on its front gave the impression it was about to fall down at any moment. I made my way up the stairs to the cafe. It was quiet at this time of night. Sarah was sitting in the corner, nursing a cup of tea. I made my way over to her and asked how Don was doing. 'They've moved him to a ward, so he's settled for the night.' 'What happened?' 'I don't really know. It seems his neighbour heard a lot noise, arguing, and knocked on his door. Whoever was in there ran straight out and fled. She called an ambulance and then me. That's all I've been able to find out. I can't speak to him until the morning.' There was nothing more we could do for now. 'Where's Lauren?' I asked. 'I got a friend to look after her. She's happy to wait until I get home.' 'Good.' I told her that Connor had taken the cigarettes. 'Does Niall know?' 'He can't know. It'd destroy him.' 'It's not healthy to keep secrets.' 'I haven't got a choice.' She nodded her head in agreement, complicit in my decision. 'If you think it's for the best.' I said it was. Sarah took a notebook out of her coat pocket. 'I've been working, too.' She passed me her notes. 'Here's some more on the Palmer family. I decided to have a dig around.' I skimmed through the notes. Sarah told me about Alan Palmer. 'He also worked with George Sutherland, back in the day.' 'Keeping it in the family.' 'When he wasn't in prison, obviously. Alan's got a history.' 'What about Carl?' 'He's not been to prison yet, but that's more through luck than judgement.' Witnesses changing their minds about what they'd seen. It was a familiar story. I passed her the notebook back. 'He's dangerous, then.' 'In a nutshell.' We sat in silence for a few moments before I told her there was nothing more we could do here for the time being. 'You should try and get some sleep. Keep things normal for Lauren.' Working for clients was one thing, but it's a different thing altogether when it happens on your own doorstep. At least Don wasn't in any immediate danger. I told her I'd walk her home. She was still shaken. 'I'll sleep on your settee tonight. *CHAPTER FOUR* I left Sarah's house early. My night's sleep on her settee had been uncomfortable and disjointed, not least because I was thinking about what had happened to Don. Sarah had woken me with a cup of coffee and toast. She didn't want Lauren to see me lying there. I understood what she was saying. Lauren was preparing to move up to senior school, so it was an important time for her. I'd quickly got myself dressed and on the move. As I walked back towards my flat to collect my car, I knew I had to help Don. I'd told Sarah that much. It was the least I could do. He'd gone the extra mile for me in the past. It was time for me to repay the favour.
*•* I couldn't lose sight of my other problems, though. My call to Connor went straight to voicemail. I told him to call me back immediately. By the time I'd reached my flat, he'd returned my call. Connor hadn't wanted to give me Milo's work address, but he knew he had no choice in the matter. He sounded resigned to giving me the details. I could find it out. All he would be doing was saving me time. And, as I pointed out to him, time was what we didn't have a lot of. Milo worked for his father's business, a public relations agency based on Priory Park. I negotiated my way through the maze of car dealerships which dominated the area and found the new-build offices at the back of the development. The reception area was light and airy, no doubt designed to put you at ease when you walked in. The walls were decorated with boards and posters promoting the developing green technology sector around the Humber. I could see similar boards promoting the new City Plan and City of Culture bid. Above the reception desk was the company logo and strapline. "Helping you to tell your story". It was nonsense. I didn't know what to make of it. The table in the middle of the room had trade magazines and brochures casually arranged on it. I leafed through them until a middle aged man appeared in front of me. He was casually dressed, yet smart enough to make it clear he was at work. Tricky to pull off the look, but he'd done it. It was something which eluded me. 'Can I help you?' he said. I put the magazine down. 'I'm looking for Milo.' 'Milo?' I nodded. He smiled at me, understanding. 'You mean Miles? I can never get used to my son being called that.' His eyes narrowed. 'It's usually only his friends who call him Milo.' 'I'm more a friend of a friend.' 'I see.' He was uncomfortable with the situation, but I was standing my ground. I was banking on the fact he didn't want a man dressed in jeans and an old jumper fouling up his reception area in front of clients. He eventually called out his son's name. Milo walked in, chewing gum, hands in his pockets. He was a clone of Connor with the same haircut, studded earring and tattoos creeping out from under his shirt sleeves. The smile on his face soon disappeared when he saw me. He was definitely scared of me. He told his dad he could handle it. We waited for him to leave. 'Take a walk with me,' I said. 'Can't we do it in here?' I shook my head. 'No we can't, Miles.' It was a cheap shot, but I wanted to bring him down a peg or two by using his proper name. He reluctantly followed me outside. The Humber Bridge stood behind us, simultaneously beautiful and brutal looking. I walked until we were out of sight. He needed to know I wasn't messing about. I grabbed him by the shirt and pinned him against the nearest wall. I told him who I was. 'Connor's uncle?' 'That's right.' 'It was a laugh that got out of hand, that's all. We didn't mean any harm by it.' 'How can you not mean harm by it? You stole the cigarettes.' The arrogance I'd seen when he'd sauntered into the reception area to meet me returned to his eyes now he knew I wasn't a direct threat to him. He smiled at me. 'You can hardly claim the moral high ground, can you? Whose cigarettes are they, really?' I released my grip and walked away. He was right. I wasn't really in a position to judge. I had to deal with the consequences of what had happened. It was as simple as that.
*•* I switched the SIM cards and called Carl Palmer's number. He answered immediately. 'I don't like being messed about.' 'Calm down, Carl.' I was willing to bet only a handful of people used the number and all their numbers were likely to be stored in the mobile's memory. My number would have stood out like a sore thumb to him. Silence. I let him chew over the fact I knew his name. He laughed. 'You're good. How did you get this number?' I ignored the question. 'I want them back,' he said. 'They're yours?' 'I want them back.' 'I want to speak to their real owner.' 'Have you got them to return?' 'Not yet. That's what I want to speak to their owner about.' Silence for a few moments. I waited for him to come back on the line. 'That can be arranged,' he said. I wanted to do it in public. 'There's a Starbucks in St Stephens. I'll be there at mid-day.' I hung up. I headed for Don's house. It wasn't much of a detour before heading to Starbucks. I had no master plan for the meeting with Palmer and his boss, so the sooner I got it over and done with, the better. I knocked on the door of Don's neighbour. A woman in her sixties answered. 'How is Don?' she asked. She didn't ask me in. 'He's on the mend.' 'Pleased to hear it.' I told her that I used to work with Don. Her eyes narrowed. 'In the police?' 'His more recent job.' It was clearly the wrong answer, as she took a step back into her house. I matched it and moved forward a little. 'Can you tell me what happened?' 'I've already spoken with the police.' 'I'm here to help Don.' She looked me up and down, like she was weighing up whether I was to be trusted or not. 'There's not much I can tell you. The man ran out as I shouted Don's name.' 'Did you get a good look at him?' 'I'm afraid not. He was too fast for me. I'd say he was in his thirties. Big and muscular, but rough looking with it.' 'Anything else?' 'I heard him shout he'd be back. That's why the police said they would step up their patrols.' She pointed to the bag in her hallway. 'But you can't trust them, can you? That's why I'm going to stay with a relative until they catch this man.' I told her I understood and thanked her for helping Don. She shouted after me as I walked away. 'The policeman left his card with me.' I waited while she went and found it. She reappeared and held it out to me. I read the details. Acting Detective Inspector Coleman. He'd been promoted since our paths had last crossed.
*•* Starbucks in the St Stephen's Shopping Centre was above the main row of shops, as if it was suspended in mid-air. I had a good view of people coming and going. More importantly to me, it was busy. I didn't know what I was getting into, so it had to be done in public. There were no seats free which had a decent view of the staircase, so I sat with my back to the entrance and waited. I watched as shoppers carried bags between stores. My concentration was broken by a hand gripping my shoulder. It squeezed hard but I didn't flinch. George Sutherland slipped into the seat opposite me. 'This is a surprise, isn't it?' he said. I couldn't help but smile. I'd been wrong about him. I'd considered him well under the radar, but there weren't many people in the city with the clout to smuggle in a quantity of cigarettes through the docks. Sutherland was obviously one of the small number who could. I remembered that his pub offered bed and breakfast. He could possibly justify importing the catering supplies which masked the cigarettes. I wasn't sure how it would work, but it made some sense to me. 'How's the wife?' I asked him. It was a cheap shot, but it was all I had. He laughed. 'No idea, but I owe you my thanks for that.' He pointed to the blonde a few tables away, flicking through a magazine. 'Worked out for the best, I reckon.' I smiled. 'At least your wife will get some well-deserved money.' 'Have a look around, Geraghty. There's a recession on. I'm a humble businessman trying to scratch a living. I'm sixty years old soon. I've got nothing to give her.' 'Right.' I didn't believe him. 'Ask my accountant. I believe you know Mr Millfield.' 'We're already acquainted.' I was surprised, but I didn't let it show. 'But we're not here to talk about that, are we? Seems like your brother has been a naughty boy.' 'Stupid, maybe.' 'Beside the point, really, given the circumstances.' 'Maybe you should have taken more care. If you trust someone like Gillespie to sort things out for you, maybe you should have kept the cigarettes somewhere else.' Sutherland sat back in his chair. A waitress placed a large cappuccino in front of him. He drank a mouthful of coffee. 'You might have a point there. I placed my trust in people and they let me down.' I thought about the beating my brother had been given. Sutherland must have known I was involved. He'd been playing with me, waiting for me to make a move. Maybe waiting to see if I could find the cigarettes for him. 'Gillespie is an idiot,' he said. 'I don't care for him. And I can't say I care much for your brother. If you want to play with the big boys, you're going to get hurt.' I was getting angry with him. 'You leave my brother alone.' Sutherland smiled again. 'I dare say you've spoken to Peter Hill, too. He's quite a useful man to know, so I'm sure I'll be dealing with him soon enough. Plenty of people need to make things up to me.' 'What do you want?' 'I want them back, obviously.' He paused. 'Or I want paying.' 'Unlucky on both counts.' He smiled again. 'That's not how it works.' 'I can't give you what I haven't got. They were stolen, but you already know that.' There was no way I was giving him Connor's name. 'Quite a coincidence.' 'Indeed.' 'I'll make it clear, then. I can't get insurance for my line of business, so I have to enforce my own rules.' He shuffled forward and leaned in close to me. 'Believe me, I'll enforce them. I'm not prepared to be out of pocket or let people down.' 'How much are we talking about?' 'Fifteen grand for the cigs.' He shrugged. 'Make it twenty for the inconvenience and my time sorting it out.' I laughed. 'I can't help you with that.' 'Don't be talking yourself down, Geraghty. You caught me out, didn't you?' His was talking about his wife. 'You didn't make any attempt to cover your tracks.' 'And you think the people who've stolen the cigarettes are master criminals?' 'I want you to leave my brother out of this.' Sutherland considered this. 'You want me to hold you responsible?' I nodded. It was the only way. I didn't care much about Terry Gillespie or Peter Hill. I only cared about Niall and Connor. He swallowed the last of his cappuccino. 'In that case, I'll be in touch.'
*•* I need a distraction to occupy my mind. I was going to have think carefully about my next move with Sutherland. Kath Millfield's literacy charity operated from an office on Wright Street. I'd checked her website. They operated an open door policy. People were encouraged to simply drop in to see the work they did and maybe volunteer their time. Roger Millfield would be expecting me to make progress, so I decided I wanted to see his wife when she was in her comfort zone. I wanted to get a feel for the woman. I fed the parking meter and walked in. Directly in front of me was a display board about their literacy work with children. It was impressive. At the bottom was a list of corporate sponsors. Her husband's firm was one of them. To the left, I could see the offices. They had glass fronts, so you could observe them at work. Kath Millfield was on the telephone. I looked again at the display boards. The charity certainly did important work around the city. The children on the photo were all smiles and laughter. One of Kath Millfield's employees walked across to join me. 'The children get so much out of the process. A lot of them aren't interested in reading when they start with us, but we place the emphasis on fun.' She smiled. 'It's about learning without the pressures of targets and exams.' 'It's certainly impressive,' I said. 'We're always eager for men to get involved. We always need positive male role-models.' Out of the corner of my eye I Reported by This is 14 hours ago.