The Crooked Beat (10 page)

I left the History Centre with several photocopies. I’d read the articles in depth later. Gerard Branning had played me like a professional. He’d wanted me to find out about Reg Holborn’s death. He was still sharp. The Hull Daily Mail’s coverage of Holborn’s death stated he lived on Winchester Close, a small estate of bungalows in East Hull. My dad had told me Rovers had once owned the land, before deciding to build the original Craven Park a couple of miles closer to the city centre on Holderness Road. I knew the area well. My dad had been landlord at the Barham Pub, which stood at the top of estate. Before heading there, I tried calling Neil Farr. I wanted to speak to him again, but I was told he was in a meeting. I knew I was being lied to, but there was no point pushing my luck.

I hadn’t been back to the area I’d spent most of my childhood in for years. The small row of shops had changed. What had once been a large playing field behind the pub was now sheltered housing for the elderly. The estate was enclosed and easy to navigate. Holborn’s house was easy to spot. I could see the damage the fire had done. I pulled out my mobile and started to call the number on the estate agent’s board. I stopped and put my mobile away before the call was answered. I had a better idea. I parked up and approached the house. No curtains were up, so I peered in. There wasn’t much to see, but it got me the attention I wanted.

‘Can I help you?’

Holborn’s neighbour was a woman in her sixties. She was holding a trowel in her hand and had appeared from the back of her bungalow. Her front garden was immaculate. I pointed to the estate agent’s board. ‘I was thinking about having a look around for my dad. It’s the kind of place he’d be interested in.’ I gave her my best smile and told her I’d just been looking through the window. ‘There was a fire?’

She nodded. ‘A terrible business.’

‘What happened?’

‘It seems Reg dropped a cigarette on the chair he was sat in. By the time the fire brigade arrived, it was too late.’ She shrugged. ‘Most of us around here are elderly, you see. We’re not built for dragging people out of houses. Reg was more or less infirm, so the poor man never stood a chance.’

I sympathised with her before turning away and taking a deep breath. I’d thought I’d come to terms with Debbie’s death, but stories like this brought it back all too vividly, leaving me wondering if I could ever put it fully behind me.

I snapped back into our conversation when she spoke. ‘He kept himself to himself, but I knew he had other health problems. It can’t have helped.’

‘I suppose not.’ Reading the newspaper reports in The History Centre had fixed Holborn into a particular time frame for me. I couldn’t picture him as an old man with failing health.

‘His children don’t live in Hull,’ she said. ‘One’s down in London and the other one works abroad. It’s the way of the world, I suppose. My two aren’t much different. They both moved away for work, too. Lucky if they call me more than once a month. Do you have children?’

I shook my head. ‘No children.’

She looked at me again, taking my face in. ‘I knew you were familiar to me. You’re Jimmy’s lad, aren’t you?’

There was no point lying. I said I was. She was confused, so I told her what I was really doing here. I gave her one of my cards. She might have blown my cover, but I was pleased my dad was still remembered around here.

She walked across the driveway to me. ‘The really strange thing about all of this is that I never saw him smoke a cigarette in his life.’

Neil Farr still hadn’t returned my call. I knew there was a library close by. My parents had taken me there as a child. Pulling up outside of it, it was clear not much had changed here, either. I went inside and got the information I needed from the telephone directory. Neil Farr lived in the exclusive village of Swanland. It was situated outside of Hull on the edge of the Yorkshire Wolds. I headed straight there. It was a twenty minute journey, but Hull felt a million miles away. I drove slowly past the village pond, looking for the address I needed. There was a large 4x4 BMW parked outside of it. The private registration plate made it clear that it belonged to Farr. It was the same car I’d seen outside Kath Millfield’s office. I parked at the end of the cul-de-sac, well away from his house and headed back towards it. I walked slowly down his drive, giving him every opportunity to spot me. He didn’t, so I hammered loudly on the front door. I told the woman who answered that I needed to speak to her husband. It was a quiet village, not the kind of place where dishevelled people like me turned up to ask questions. She shut the door on me. Eventually Neil Farr reopened it and stood in front of me.

‘What do you want?’ he said. ‘This is my home. You can’t do this.’

‘You didn’t return my call.’

‘I don’t return many calls.’

‘I need to talk to you.’

He took a step back. ‘How did you find me?’

I told him professional people were invariably listed in the telephone directory. I didn’t know why, but it was a lesson I’d learnt over the years.

He shouted to his wife that he was popping out before turning back to me. ‘The pub’s only a short walk away.’

I followed a step behind him. We didn’t speak until we reached the bar of The Swan and Cygnet, the local village pub. He told me I was buying. I passed him half a pint of bitter and we found a quiet corner.

He took a sip and placed his drink down. ‘You’ve got my attention, Mr Geraghty. What do you want?’

I leaned across to the table to make sure I had his full attention. I’d tried to get the logic straight in my mind as I drove to his house. I knew there was a link between Don and Kath Millfield because they’d had an affair, but Roger Millfield was adamant he didn’t want me involved in investigating his wife’s alleged infidelity any further. And Don was equally adamant that I should leave it alone, saying he was now taking care of it, despite being hospitalised. It didn’t make much sense, but Coleman had suggested that Don had enemies from his days with the police. I had to do something, as I’d made a promise to Sarah. Maybe there wasn’t a direct line between them, but I had to follow things, wherever they took me. I had too many questions and not enough answers. Farr had made it clear he was fond of Kath Millfield. Maybe he’d throw me something. ‘You met Roger when you were training?’ I said.

‘When I was networking, really. It was encouraged. You need a book of contacts in every line of business. You know that as well as I do. I’m a solicitor, he’s an accountant. It made sense.’

‘Do you get on with him?’

‘I suppose I must have to start with.’

‘What changed?’

‘Kath.’ He looked resigned to telling me the truth now he knew I wasn’t going to let it drop. ‘You’ll only hear it somewhere else if I don’t tell you, but Kath and I had a relationship many, many years ago.’

‘Before she met Roger?’

‘She left me for him.’

I tapped my fingers on the top of the table. I didn’t want to antagonise him. I wanted him to continue talking. ‘Roger made a move on her?’

‘He was always the sort to take what he wanted.’

‘You don’t like Roger very much, do you?’

‘I’d have thought that was pretty obvious. It wasn’t just the situation with Kath, though. You learn to move on and start again. It enabled us to be the best of friends.’

I thought about asking what his wife made of it all, but he continued to talk.

‘It was all about him. He became arrogant very quickly. Once he finished his training, he changed, almost overnight. He quickly climbed the ladder, but for me, there are ways of doing things and there’s no difference between your private life and your personal life. Not in my book. You treat people properly. I’ve always considered myself to be an honest man and I’ve always tried to do my best for my clients.’

I glanced at the menu above the bar to give him a moment to gather his thoughts. I realised I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten all day. I turned my attention back to him. ‘Roger has never shared my ethics,’ Farr said. ‘His bottom-line is profit, pure and simple. He’s not particularly concerned about who he acts for, if you follow me.’

‘Like George Sutherland?’

He didn’t seem surprised by my mention of the name. In fact, he smiled. ‘Roger has acted for him for a number of years, even though Kath begged him not to. Roger wouldn’t listen to her, though.’

‘Why would Kath be so bothered about what her husband did at work?’

‘George Sutherland has a grip on Roger. He always has done.’

‘Why?’

‘He goes back even further than I do with Kath. I think they were brought up on the same street. Kath knows exactly what the man is.’

I went back to my flat and showered. I turned the water to cold, as I often found the shock of the ice-cold blast cleared my mind. It allowed me to start again. Only this time when I’d finished, the problems were still there. A non-smoker dying in a house fire from a dropped cigarette didn’t sit right with me, especially when he was ex-police like Don. I heated up the last tin of tomato soup in my cupboard and stared out of the window as I ate. I didn’t believe in coincidences. I was also puzzled by Roger Millfield's willingness to act for George Sutherland, given what I now knew.

Once I was finished eating, I headed out to Niall’s bar launch. It was busier than I expected it to be. I recognised some of the faces. Niall had obviously been on the phone to his old mates and they’d come out in force for him. The night was drawing in, so I got to see the bar lighting at full effect. Niall knew people in the trades. A lot of them weren’t busy, so he’d persuaded them to do the work for a decent price. The spirit bottles behind the bar twinkled under the spotlights. It was great. I was proud of the way he’d met the challenge of getting the place on its feet. I squeezed my way through the crowd, stopping to shake hands with Niall’s rugby mates, who’d also come out in force for him. It was great to see people smiling and enjoying themselves. I saw Sarah. I nodded to her and smiled. We’d talk later on. I was tempted to take a drink for myself, but I still had things to do. Connor was helping out behind the bar. That was pleasing. I spotted Niall fiddling with his mobile by the toilets. I guided him towards the kitchen door, closing it behind us. It was eerily quiet in contrast to the buzz around the bar. I pulled up two chairs and told him to sit down.

‘Ruth doesn’t believe my story about being mugged,’ he said.

I tried not to laugh. ‘It wasn’t the best story in the world.’ His face was better already, the bruising fading.

‘She’s making me sleep in the spare room until I tell her the truth.’

I felt bad for nearly laughing. ‘I’m doing my best.’

He looked like he was going to say something before he simply nodded.

‘It’s nice to see Connor here,’ I said.

‘I think his mother has had a word with him.’

‘He’s a kid trying to find his way. It was hard enough for us to do, wasn’t it?’

‘It wasn’t that hard, I’m sure.’

‘Different world now.’

Niall rubbed his face. ‘I suppose it is.’

‘He’s told me about his plan to be a nightclub promoter.’

‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’

I don’t think my brother had ever sounded more like our dad than he had at that moment. ‘You’ve got to let him try. If he fails, so what? What’s he lost?’

‘Time.’

‘Time?’

‘Time that could be spent on a proper career, building something worthwhile.’

‘Like working on the caravans?’ I regretted saying it as soon as it left my mouth. Niall stood up and paced the room. I said I hadn’t meant it like that.

 ‘You think I’ve wasted my life?’

I shook my head. ‘I mean you can’t put all your eggs in one basket these days, can you? No one’s going to work their entire life in one job.’

‘It’s you who needs a job, not me.’

‘I haven’t got a clue about pulling pints. You saw how shit I was at it in Dad’s pub.’

Niall couldn’t keep a smile off his face. ‘That’s true.’ He walked back to his chair and sat down.

‘I’ve got a problem,’ I said.

‘What kind of problem?’

I took a breath and told him. ‘What would you do if you knew something a friend didn’t? Something important.’

He shrugged. ‘Depends on what you knew and who the friend was.’

‘It’s a close friend.’

‘Sarah?’

I nodded. There was no point in pretending. It felt like I’d re-established myself with her again of late. I’d missed her company. I had no idea where what had happened to Don was going to take us, but holding secrets back did no one any good.

‘Going to tell me, then?’ Niall said.

I checked we were alone before speaking. ‘I know Don had an affair when Sarah’s mother was still alive.’

‘And Sarah’s got no idea?’

‘None at all.’

‘How did you find out?’

‘It doesn’t really matter.’

He blew out his cheeks and shrugged. ‘I really don’t know what to say. But I’ll tell you this. If you don’t make the decision and do something about it, someone else will find out and tell her. If you know, it’ll come out. It always happens and that will make the situation twice as bad for you.’

Niall went back to work. I spotted Sarah and made my way over to her. I knew what he’d said was right, even if I didn’t want to acknowledge it.

‘Where have you been?’ she said.

I nodded to the front door. We went outside, leaving the noise behind us. Chanterlands Avenue ran parallel to Princes Avenue. The latter was the livelier and more developed. It had reinvented itself with countless bars and restaurants. The street we were on was playing catch-up. None of it was my scene, but I knew you got peaks and troughs in this type of industry. Places and areas came and went in popularity. If Niall offered quality, people would stay loyal. It was the same as in any business. Maybe I’d learned a thing or two from the partnership with Don. There was a bus shelter a little further along. I told her we should sit in there. It’d shut out the noise of the traffic.

‘It’s like being teenagers,’ I said as we huddled up close together against the cold night.