Read Online Golden Mile to Murder by Sally Spencer - Free Book Online Page B

of lurid pink tubes wrapped in cellophane, and felt the sticky-sweet taste of childhood gently oozing into his mouth.
    â€˜Take some sticks home for the kids?’ suggested the shopkeeper, a middle-aged man with a slight cast in his left eye.
    In point of fact, I was almost on the point of buyin’ one or two sticks for myself, Woodend thought.
    But aloud, he said, ‘A couple of years ago I might have, but I’m sure my daughter thinks she’s far too grown-up for that kind of thing now.’
    The man with the squint shrugged his shoulders fatalistically. ‘You’re not very brown,’ he commented. ‘Just startin’ your holiday, are you?’
    He’d never have been asked the question if it had been the promenade at Brighton he’d been wandering along, Woodend thought. That was the difference between the North and the South – southerners minded their own business, but in the North they regarded
everybody’s
business as their own.
    â€˜I’m not on holiday at all, as it happens,’ he said. ‘I’m workin’.’
    A southerner, even if it he
had
raised the first question, would have let the matter rest there, but the rock seller said, ‘Oh aye, an’ what kind of business are you in?’
    â€˜I’m a bobby,’ Woodend told him. ‘From Whitebridge.’
    â€˜The big city, hey? Well, there can only be one reason you’re down here, can’t there?’
    â€˜Can there? An’ what might that be?’
    â€˜You’re here to find out who killed poor Mr Davies, aren’t you?’
    Poor
Mr Davies, Woodend repeated to himself. ‘Did you know Inspector Davies at all?’ he asked.
    â€˜Not what you might call well – but well enough. I had a break-in a couple of years back – I’d been stupid enough to leave some cash in the shop overnight – an’ it was Inspector Davies, Sergeant Davies as he was then, who investigated it.’
    â€˜What was your impression of him?’
    â€˜Very favourable. He was my kind of bobby.’
    â€˜An’ what kind of bobby is that?’
    â€˜He seemed serious about his job. Like he really cared about catchin’ the feller who’d robbed me. Like he wouldn’t sleep at night if he didn’t get a result. You don’t mind payin’ your taxes when you know the money’s goin’ to make up the wages of people like Mr Davies.’
    â€˜An’ did he actually catch the robber?’
    â€˜He did. Got him for a string of other burglaries along the front as well. Of course, the bugger denied it – well, they always do, don’t they? – but Mr Davies assured me he was the man, right enough.’ He sighed. ‘It’s a pity they have to promote men like him, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Why do you say that?’ Woodend wondered.
    â€˜Well, they lose touch with the ordinary people, don’t they? After the robbery, Sergeant Davies often used to drop round to check that everythin’ was all right, an’ have a bit of a chat. But that stopped once he got made up. I don’t want to suggest he got snobbish or anythin’,’ the shopkeeper added hastily, ‘I just think he was so busy with his new responsibilities that he didn’t have the time to stop an’ talk any more.’
    â€˜So you hadn’t seen him recently?’
    â€˜Not to speak to.’
    â€˜But you did
see
him,’ Woodend persisted.
    â€˜Just walkin’ past, like. He’d wave to me, but he’d never come over.’
    â€˜An’ how often would that be?’
    â€˜Difficult to say for sure. There was a long while after he got promoted when we didn’t see him round here
at all
, but lately he seemed to have been poppin’ up every other day.’
    â€˜Is that right?’ Woodend said thoughtfully.
    Tommy Bolton was having THE DREAM again. That was what he always thought of it as when he