The Late Greats by Nick Quantrill

around the room. I sat down and mulled over what my brother had said. We’d left the pub making promises to meet up again as soon as possible, and I wanted to keep my promise to him. It was time to move forward and look to the future.
    I looked over the paperwork I had. I was nowhere near finding Tasker and all I’d done was upset people. I knew I should apologise to Sarah, but looking at my watch it was too late to call. It would have to wait until tomorrow. I’d drop into the office first thing in the morning and get it over with. It would be a start. Maybe Don would be there, too. I thought about calling Julia, but realised it would be a stupid thing to do. I had nothing to tell her, and I had Major’s warning to think about. First and foremost, she was a journalist. I warmed up a frozen lasagne and promised myself yet again I’d start to eat more healthily. It was supposed to be part of the new me. I had too much to think about. Eating wasn’t helping. Night was beginning to draw in. A thought struck me. If I was Tasker, I’d wait for darkness before attempting to return. I found my car keys and left.
     
    There was no light on in Tasker’s flat. I remembered which one it was from my visit with Major. I drove past and parked up about a hundred yards away, just in case anyone recognised my car. I walked back to the flats. The area was quiet, but the show at the New Theatre would be emptying soon. I pressed the buzzer to Tasker’s flat. No answer. I took a step back and looked up. Lights were on, so plenty of people were in. I pressed the buzzer again and waited. Nothing. I thought about trying his neighbours, but decided against. I saw someone walking down the stairs towards the door. I walked quickly back to my car.
    The studio was next on my list. Again, I parked well away and walked. As I got closer, I could see the door was open, the wind gently moving it backwards and forwards. Probably a late night session for the engineer. I walked in, remembering the lay-out from my last visit. There was no noise. I was on my guard in case I ran into a burglar. I slowly walked into the main room. It was too dark to see anything. I fumbled for the light switch, believing I was ready for whatever I was going to see. But I hadn’t expected to see Greg Tasker’s body lying on the floor.
     
    I waited outside for the police. It didn’t take long for them to arrive. I watched a man in his early fifties, tall with grey hair and the unmistakable air of authority, walk across to me.
    ‘Mr Geraghty, I assume?’ He flashed his identification card at me. ‘DI Robinson – Major Incident Team, Humberside Police.’
    ‘Call me Joe’ I said.
    ‘I only call my friends by their first name.’
    I smiled. I’d heard the routine before.
    ‘I’ll get to the point for you, Mr Geraghty. This is a police matter now and what I won’t be needing is a Private Investigator running around thinking he’s Philip Marlowe.’
    ‘I’m more of a Sam Spade man myself.’ He wasn’t laughing. ‘Just doing my job’ I said.
    ‘Where have I heard that before?’ Robinson stood up and walked a couple of yards away from me. He stopped and turned back. ‘I want to know everything you know.’
    ‘About?’ I wasn’t feeling particularly helpful.
    ‘About how long you’ve known Tasker was missing would be a start.’
    I hesitated before telling Robinson what I knew.
    ‘You didn’t think of giving us a call?’ Robinson said. ‘Given the circumstances? We have people who deal with this sort of thing. Specialists.’
    I explained about Kane Major. ‘We thought we could handle it’ I said.
    ‘You thought you could handle it, Mr Geraghty?’ Robinson laughed and moved closer. ‘I’d hardly say you’ve handled it.’
    It was like being back at school. There was nothing to say. He was right.
    ‘And it’s people like me, the professionals, who have to sweep the mess up’ he continued, pointing at the studio. ‘It’s people like me who