the table made her jump. Her companion tutted, his heavy hand resting on her thigh. The floppy-haired man’s shot had not gone as planned. She saw the lean one’s face crease into a smile.
‘Kevin has been a silly boy,’ he whispered. ‘Nobbled his opponent last week in the regional snooker finals. A pretty thing like you won’t be interested in such … matters.’ He paused to light a cigarette. ‘It’s only a game, but people take it very seriously. Especially where money is involved.’
‘Of course,’ she agreed, beginning to understand the situation; his money.
‘The other poor bugger had to play with broken fingers.’
She noticed beads of sweat on Curtain’s brow. The lean man was on the black.
‘So, we’re going to test just how good laddy here will be, under the same handicap.’
The final ball cannoned across the table and disappeared in an instant in the corner pocket, as though sucked down.
‘Right.’ Her companion got up slowly, groaning as though with back pain, and moved towards the table. She watched fear take hold of the defeated Kevin.
‘Pumpy … please ,’ he pleaded. ‘Pumpy …’
‘Now, Kev, let’s not be a baby about this.’ He had something in the palm of his hand. ‘Stick or ball?’
‘Pumpy … please.’
‘OK, never mind, let’s do it this way. Heads, stick; tails, ball.’ Moving into the light of the table, Pumpy tossed the coin he was holding. Seeing him properly now, she was struck by the sheer bulk of the man. He was enormous. ‘So, what’ve we got?’
‘Tails,’ Kevin whimpered.
She watched the lean man’s face erupt into a broad grin. His eyes were hidden behind tinted glasses, which somehow made him even more intimidating. ‘Robert’s favourite. Isn’t it, Robbo?’ Pumpy said, while Robert just continued smiling and toyed with something that looked like a sock.
‘Ever seen Scum ?’ said the big man, addressing her. ‘It’s a film about a bunch of horrible little toerags at odds with the British penal system.’
She nodded, not that he could see her, but then he didn’t need to. Almost everyone of her generation had seen it. She knew what was coming, and gripped the seat tightly.
‘No, Pumpy, no!’ Kevin backed into two heavies who had been lurking in the shadows.
‘Raymond, help Kev place his right hand on the table, please.’ A tall, crop-haired man stepped forward, as Robert knotted the sock, now laden with snooker balls. ‘And you, young lady, come with me.’
She heard a sickening crack before the gangster pulled the door shut behind him. Poor Kevin wouldn’t be playing snooker again for a very long time.
‘Now then, what can I do for you, my lovely Louise?’
No longer disguised by the darkness of the snooker hall, the full brunt of Pumpy’s pockmarked ugliness caused an involuntary shudder in her.
Thursday (8)
It was too good to be true. Mullett being arrested for drunk and disorderly behaviour would’ve made Frost’s year, but the Rimmington station commander had been pulling his leg. All that had really happened, he soon explained, was that an area car had found Denton’s own commander wandering the streets alone, lost and looking for a taxi. The officer had kindly driven him home. No, the real reason Kelsey wanted to speak to Frost was Baskin.
‘I didn’t take the call, I was … off duty this morning.’
‘Of course. Forgive me, Frost. My condolences. It must’ve been a very difficult time.’
‘Not a problem,’ Frost replied, wondering how well known his affairs were in the county, ‘but I did visit Baskin in Denton General this afternoon.’
‘And?’
‘He’s in the dark. Thinks it was some would-be stripper—’
‘And what do you think?’ Kelsey cut in.
‘We’re talking about Harry Baskin,’ Frost said, stalling, not really wishing to tell a man he didn’t know, albeit it a senior policeman, his budding theories. ‘Club owner, late fifties, been lord of the manor for the past twenty
‘Kevin has been a silly boy,’ he whispered. ‘Nobbled his opponent last week in the regional snooker finals. A pretty thing like you won’t be interested in such … matters.’ He paused to light a cigarette. ‘It’s only a game, but people take it very seriously. Especially where money is involved.’
‘Of course,’ she agreed, beginning to understand the situation; his money.
‘The other poor bugger had to play with broken fingers.’
She noticed beads of sweat on Curtain’s brow. The lean man was on the black.
‘So, we’re going to test just how good laddy here will be, under the same handicap.’
The final ball cannoned across the table and disappeared in an instant in the corner pocket, as though sucked down.
‘Right.’ Her companion got up slowly, groaning as though with back pain, and moved towards the table. She watched fear take hold of the defeated Kevin.
‘Pumpy … please ,’ he pleaded. ‘Pumpy …’
‘Now, Kev, let’s not be a baby about this.’ He had something in the palm of his hand. ‘Stick or ball?’
‘Pumpy … please.’
‘OK, never mind, let’s do it this way. Heads, stick; tails, ball.’ Moving into the light of the table, Pumpy tossed the coin he was holding. Seeing him properly now, she was struck by the sheer bulk of the man. He was enormous. ‘So, what’ve we got?’
‘Tails,’ Kevin whimpered.
She watched the lean man’s face erupt into a broad grin. His eyes were hidden behind tinted glasses, which somehow made him even more intimidating. ‘Robert’s favourite. Isn’t it, Robbo?’ Pumpy said, while Robert just continued smiling and toyed with something that looked like a sock.
‘Ever seen Scum ?’ said the big man, addressing her. ‘It’s a film about a bunch of horrible little toerags at odds with the British penal system.’
She nodded, not that he could see her, but then he didn’t need to. Almost everyone of her generation had seen it. She knew what was coming, and gripped the seat tightly.
‘No, Pumpy, no!’ Kevin backed into two heavies who had been lurking in the shadows.
‘Raymond, help Kev place his right hand on the table, please.’ A tall, crop-haired man stepped forward, as Robert knotted the sock, now laden with snooker balls. ‘And you, young lady, come with me.’
She heard a sickening crack before the gangster pulled the door shut behind him. Poor Kevin wouldn’t be playing snooker again for a very long time.
‘Now then, what can I do for you, my lovely Louise?’
No longer disguised by the darkness of the snooker hall, the full brunt of Pumpy’s pockmarked ugliness caused an involuntary shudder in her.
Thursday (8)
It was too good to be true. Mullett being arrested for drunk and disorderly behaviour would’ve made Frost’s year, but the Rimmington station commander had been pulling his leg. All that had really happened, he soon explained, was that an area car had found Denton’s own commander wandering the streets alone, lost and looking for a taxi. The officer had kindly driven him home. No, the real reason Kelsey wanted to speak to Frost was Baskin.
‘I didn’t take the call, I was … off duty this morning.’
‘Of course. Forgive me, Frost. My condolences. It must’ve been a very difficult time.’
‘Not a problem,’ Frost replied, wondering how well known his affairs were in the county, ‘but I did visit Baskin in Denton General this afternoon.’
‘And?’
‘He’s in the dark. Thinks it was some would-be stripper—’
‘And what do you think?’ Kelsey cut in.
‘We’re talking about Harry Baskin,’ Frost said, stalling, not really wishing to tell a man he didn’t know, albeit it a senior policeman, his budding theories. ‘Club owner, late fifties, been lord of the manor for the past twenty
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