Honeytrap: Part 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

and resolved to keep busy. Anything was better than slouching around feeling sorry for himself. Top of the list was to go round to Wilder’s – something he should have done last night – and check if Sylvie’s phone had been found. After that he’d go for a long walk and try to clear his head.
    Once he’d forced down breakfast, Harry grabbed his jacket and left the flat. On the first-floor landing he glanced along the corridor but there was no sign of life from the office. They were closed on a Sunday but Lorna occasionally came in to do the books. There were advantages and disadvantages to living over the job, he thought; the upside was that he was never late for work, the down that it wasn’t always easy to get away from it.
    Outside, a thin drizzly rain was falling. The street had that Sunday morning hush about it and even the usually bustling station was quiet. He walked round the corner to the bar, tried the door and found that it was locked. Checking the times, he saw that they didn’t open again until midday. He pressed his face against the window and peered inside, hoping that someone – maybe a cleaner – would be there. But the bar was empty. He rapped on the glass. Nobody came.
    Harry turned round and began walking north up the high street. He had no real destination in mind, at least not when he started off. It was only when he reached the three tall towers of the Mansfield Estate that he realised he was heading for the Lincoln Pool Hall in the hope of finding Danny Street. Ellen had made her feelings clear, but somehow he still couldn’t let go of it.
    The Lincoln was a low-slung two-storey building that doubled as a thieves’ den. It was a regular haunt of most of the local villains, drug dealers and other assorted lowlifes. The less savoury residents of the estate congregated there like bees round a honeypot. As he approached, Harry saw the white Daimler parked outside and knew that the man he wanted to see had to be inside.
    The smell hit him as soon as he walked through the door, a potent odour of male sweat, beer and dope. The place wasn’t busy, but a few tables were in use, the click of the balls resounding through the room. Danny was standing at the bar with a spaced-out redhead draped over his shoulder. Harry strolled over and gave him a nod. ‘Morning.’
    ‘Fuck off,’ Danny said.
    ‘Can I have a word?’
    ‘What don’t you understand about “fuck off”?’
    ‘It’s to do with Ellen Shaw.’
    Street sneered at him. ‘Give it a rest, man. I’ve already told her. There ain’t no deal. I’m not interested.’
    The redhead narrowed her eyes – they had a weird vacant expression – and stared at Harry. ‘You the filth? Is he the filth, Danny? He looks like the filth.’
    ‘As good as,’ Danny said.
    Harry had to find a way of finding out what was going on, and as Ellen wasn’t going to enlighten him the only person left was Street. ‘What’s the matter? Not up to the job?’
    Danny gave a snort. ‘What’s your fuckin’ game, man? Trying to set me up or what? I don’t do nothing illegal. I’m clean as the driven snow, me.’
    ‘Yeah, right.’
    ‘Tell him, Jodie,’ Danny said, nudging the girl.
    ‘He’s clean,’ she said obediently. ‘He’s as clean as …’ She wrapped a strand of long red hair around her fingers and gazed off into the middle distance as if searching for a suitable simile. When nothing came to her she began to make a humming sound, her body swaying in rhythm to an unknown song.
    Harry wondered what she’d taken, but not for long. He had more important things on his mind. ‘Not like you to renege on a deal.’
    ‘How many times do I have to tell you? There is no fuckin’ deal.’
    ‘That’s not what she thinks.’
    Danny glanced around, making sure there was no one within earshot before replying. ‘I don’t give a rat’s arse what she thinks. She wants a shooter, she can go someplace else to get it.’
    Harry drew in a breath. A gun!