Dark Briggate Blues Read Online Free Page A

eyes widened. ‘That must be exciting.’
    ‘It has its moments.’ He drained the rest of the shandy. ‘It’s been a pleasure to meet you.’
    Outside, he lit a cigarette and strolled back to the car. She’d been cool. Not a hint of surprise or anger. A good enough actress to be in pictures. And Hart … he was daring. Taking his girlfriend to the pub on Saturday evening, his wife on Sunday. Maybe the man liked danger.
    ***
    By Monday the sun had gone. It was chilly enough to take the overcoat from the wardrobe. He set off early and parked in town, but didn’t go straight to the office. Instead he cut through the splendour of Country Arcade, then into the market on the other side of Vicar Lane. Up the stairs, looking down at all the stalls and the market clock, he entered the small cafe that catered to the workers.
    It smelt of grease and stale smoke, condensation running down the windows, the air heavy with steam. He ordered a cup of tea and sat down next to a middle-aged man engrossed in the Daily Express , a cigarette dangling from his lips.
    ‘Who do you fancy at Sandown?’ the man asked without looking up.
    ‘I haven’t a clue.’ Markham took a ten-shilling note from his pocket. ‘Whatever you fancy, have a bet on it.’
    The money disappeared into a fist.
    ‘What do you need?’ Harsh light glistened on Ted Collins’ bald head. He adjusted his glasses and sat back. Collins was a civilian chief clerk for the police, working out of Millgarth station just down the road. For a fee he was happy to provide confidential information. Pay enough and damning records or evidence could disappear without trace. It was a good little earner, enough to feed the man’s losing habit on the horses and provide well for his wife and three children.
    ‘Frederick Hart. He owns Hart Ford. Wife Joanna, née Wilson.’
    Collins said nothing, picking at a tooth with his thumbnail.
    ‘How much do you need to know?’
    ‘Any criminal records, rumours.’
    The man considered the request.
    ‘Ten bob more,’ he said, and Markham passed it over. ‘Kardomah, half past twelve.’ He turned back to the newspaper.
    ***
    The Kardomah stood on Briggate, a fixture that seemed rooted since the beginning of time. Soot had turned the red bricks almost black, rubbing off on clothes as people brushed passed. The ground floor was overwhelmed with the heady smells of tea and fresh coffee. Up the stairs was the tea room. Markham took a table by the window and glanced out at the traffic.
    ‘Don’t often see you in here for you dinner, Mr Markham.’
    He looked up to see Joyce, the waitress, poised with a pencil and pad in her hands. Their paths regularly crossed on the way to work. She looked smart in the black and white uniform, a cheery smile on her lips.
    ‘I’m meeting someone.’
    ‘Do you want to wait, luv?’
    ‘No, it’s fine,’ he told her. ‘I’ll just have a cup of coffee and a ham sandwich.’
    ‘I’ve seen that ham.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I’d not bother if I were you.’
    ‘Cheese?’
    ‘Can’t go wrong with that,’ she agreed. ‘I’ll pop them out to you in a minute.’
    ‘Thanks, Joyce.’
    Half past came and went and Collins didn’t appear. He ate the sandwich and sipped at the coffee, smoking the last cigarette in the packet. The man finally arrived at quarter to, bustling through the room, his mac flapping as he moved. He settled on the chair with a sigh.
    ‘Had something urgent come up,’ he said. There was no apology; Collins wasn’t the kind of man who ever said sorry. ‘Tea,’ he ordered as Joyce hovered. ‘Nothing to eat.’ As she left he passed a piece of paper across the table. ‘That’s what I found.’
    Markham studied the note. Hart had been arrested once for drunk and disorderly in ’ 46 . Joanna’s past was more interesting. She’d accumulated six fines for her own drunk and disorderlies. The last was six years ago, probably just before her marriage. It looked as if a wedding ring