The Crooked Beat by Nick Quantrill

adding nothing further. I wasn’t going to give him anything, either. He would have spoken with Don’s neighbour, too. It was a stalemate.
    ‘Are you going to tell me anything?’ I asked Coleman.
    ‘I haven’t spoken to Don yet, so I haven’t got anything to tell you.’
    I finished my drink and stood up. ‘See you later, then.’
    He followed me out of the canteen. At the top of the stairs he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. ‘Go careful, Joe.’
     
    I put Coleman’s warning to one side and called Terry Gillespie as I walked back to my car. He told me he couldn’t talk. I told him he didn’t have a choice. I suggested he made himself available. I was heading to his house and I expected him to be there. It took me fifteen minutes to make the journey.
    ‘You can’t do this,’ he said, opening his front door to me. ‘I’ve got a job to do.’
    I brushed past him and went into his living room. We didn’t sit down. ‘Haven’t we all?’ I said. ‘And don’t give me any of that shit.’
    ‘What do you want?’
    ‘We’re going to talk about George Sutherland. They were his cigarettes.’
    Gillespie smiled. ‘Hardly a surprise, is it?’
    He’d known all along. He’d tried to play me for a fool to get himself off the hook, but it wasn’t relevant now. ‘I told Sutherland that he should consider it my debt.’ I didn’t mention the price tag. All twenty thousand pounds of it.
    He laughed. ‘Why the fuck would you do that?’
    ‘For my brother.’
    Gillespie shrugged. ‘No skin off my nose.’
    I leaned forward and grabbed him. ‘Don’t think you’re walking away from this unless I say so.’
    ‘Why would I care?’
    I relented and released him. ‘Niall said you used to work on the docks, back in the day.’
    ‘Used to be a bobber, hauling the baskets of fish in off the boats. Loved that work, I did. It was honest work. Not like sitting on your arse all day, watching things come and go. But that’s progress, I suppose.’
    I walked over to the mantelpiece and picked up a leaflet for Sutherland’s pub. It was advertising erotic dancers and gentleman’s evenings. ‘What’s Sutherland up to?’ I asked him.
    ‘How would I know?’
    ‘You were seen arguing in his pub.’
    If he was surprised by what I knew, he hid it well. ‘I argue in a lot places.’
    ‘And you thought you’d drag my brother into your shit?’
    ‘He’s a big boy. He makes his own decision.’
    I was starting to lose my patience with him. ‘Don’t fuck me about,’ I warned him. ‘I’m doing you a favour here.’
    He didn’t speak. I was wasting my time here. It was making more sense to me, though. Erotic dancers and gentleman’s evenings. I finally got the subtext. No wonder Sarah had felt so uncomfortable in the place. Gillespie was most likely paying for sex in there. Or rather he wasn’t paying. Sutherland had a grip on him. There was a debt to be paid. I was sure of it. He’d lied to me about his involvement, pretending he didn’t recognise the photograph of Carl Palmer. He wasn’t going to be any help to me. I balled up the leaflet and threw it at him.
     
    Before driving away from Gillespie’s house, I called Sarah and agreed to collect her from the hospital when she’d finished visiting Don. I had some time to kill. I wanted to get a feel for Kath Millfield’s routines and habits. I headed for her office and parked up on the street. I had yesterday’s newspaper on the floor of my car to help pass the time. I saw the assistant I’d spoken to leave the office for the day, so I figured Kath Millfield wouldn’t be far behind. The city centre slowly emptied, the shops and offices depositing workers back onto the streets. I didn’t have to wait long. Neil Farr stepped out of a car and walked across the road to knock on the front door of the office. A couple of minutes later, Kath Millfield appeared, kissed him on the cheek and locked up. I watched as they both got into Farr’s car. I