Hard Fall: A gripping, noir detective thriller (Thomas Blume series of Hard-Boiled Mysteries, Book 1) by P.T. Reade

irritation.
     
    “Look,” he said, taking on a tone that I’m sure might have startled some of the kids he used to teach.  I had a headache developing so it did nothing more to me than make me want to punch him in the mouth.
     
    “Henry Atkinson tried pinning this on me when the whole sordid affair originally occurred. And yes, I was cleared of all charges but it didn’t matter. As a result of getting mixed up in it, I lost my job, my name was dragged through the newspapers, and my life was effectively ruined. I don’t know what the hell you people are looking for — maybe some new clue buried under a rock you bulldozed in the first investigation — but you won’t find it here! Jack Ellington left my classroom in a decent mood that day. I remember because he was giggling with his friends as he left. Laughing. He left my room without a scratch on his head.”
     
    Yes, he was pissing me off. But the hell of it was that as I watched his face, I became sure of something. Something only a cop could be sure of: he hadn’t been involved. It was more than just a gut reaction. I could see it in his face, in his expressions.
     
    Stephen Harlowe was innocent. I was back to square one without a primary suspect. Just like the cops who took on the case before me. My mind wandered toward thoughts of a drink, and I had to snap it back into focus. I needed a different angle on all this and one man was going to provide it.
     

EIGHT
     
    We all have our demons.
     
    After some checking and double-checking, I was able to find the name of the bus driver. Billy Bennett, now out of work and taking up a lot of time and real estate in the seedier pubs of Whitechapel.
     
    I found him easily enough, as he had something of a reputation for staking his claim at one pub in particular on Thursday afternoons after he collected his disability money. When I stepped into the place through the low doorway, it felt like I was returning home. I’d been in several places like this over the last few months, and they started to feel familiar. Cheap drinks, sticky floors, and darkened shadows that made you feel lost and safe at the same time.
     
    My target was big. No other way to describe him. He sat hunched at the bar, stabbing at a mobile phone and mumbling in frustration. His large frame, squashed face, and bald head giving him a hostile air. He looked like you’d expect a bus driver to look after a few too many road accidents. He was overweight, fidgety, and always looked at people as if he was wondering how much cash they had in their pockets or what they might look like naked.
     
    “Billy Bennett?” I asked, slowly taking up the seat next to him. As I did, I signaled the bartender down, indicating that I wanted a drink. It was a slip-up, plain and simple. It was like muscle reflex. I was in a bar. I should drink. It was basic.
     
    “I am,” Billy said, not bothering to turn all the way around. He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “Who wants to know?” His voice was slow and stumbling. I wondered if it was from the booze or some prior head trauma. Looking at the guy, I decided both were likely.
     
    “A concerned citizen,” I said sarcastically. The bartender sat my drink down in front of me, and I sipped from it automatically. God, it tasted great.
     
    “Concerned about what?” Billy asked, finally looking away from his phone and turning his attention to me. As he faced me, a sense of familiarity struck me hard. Suddenly I was sure that I had met this man before. I knew him from somewhere…
     
    His eyes seemed distant and unfocused though; if we had met before, he certainly didn’t remember, so I decided to keep my mouth shut. I continued talking to him as I tried to place where I knew him from. “You once drove a bus for the city schools, is that correct?” I asked.
     
    Billy cut his eyes at me and took a gulp of his beer. I did the same. It went down smooth. The smoke inside was both desperate and yearning all