Policeman's Progress Read Online Free PDF Page A

Rising Sun early in the evening.
    It was now well past ten o’clock and there was no sign of them. The possibility of Thor and the woman getting up to some funny business together never crossed Jackie’s mind. Though generally as cunning as they come, he could be quite naive over some things. So obsessed was he with Geordie Armstrong that he refused to think of any other possibilities. Thor was above suspicion – his right hand, his prop and salvation when it came to running the clubs. Under the unobtrusive but firm guidance of the Dane, his businesses had crept from one sleazy joint three years ago to the present booming expansion. Stott had never given Thor’s love life a passing thought and certainly hadn’t thought of Laura being attracted by the handsome Scandinavian.
    His present ill-temper was mainly due to Laura’s pointed coolness over the past weeks. Today, for instance, she hardly said a damned word all the way to Teesside , he thought angrily. He laid the blame at Geordie’s feet. Why the hell isn’t she here! He paid her bills; he had a right to have her with him.
    He gulped another beer, getting madder every moment. She should be here, the bitch … she’s due to sing in half an hour, anyway.
    Perhaps she’s persuaded Thor to take her straight home to her flat, he suddenly thought – so that she could avoid his company.
    He lurched to his feet and slouched to the phone. He rang her number, but got no reply. Throwing the receiver petulantly back into its cradle, he stumped out to the fridge to get another bottle.
    On the way back, he put his eye to the peephole in the wall. Everything seemed to be going all right, though there were few patrons on this particular Sunday night. He had found – or rather, Thor had advised – that it was not worth keeping the Mississippi open on a Sunday, so Joe Blunt, who slept aboard as caretaker, usually had the night off to do his weekly pub crawl. As he took his eye away, there was a knocking on the outer door. He cursed, it couldn’t be Laura; she had her own key. The banging continued, and in a rising foul temper, he went to answer it.
    Joe Blunt stood there, muffled up to his squashed nose in a shapeless overcoat and hairy scarf, a flat cap pulled down to his crumpled ears.
    â€˜What the hell do you want?’
    Joe’s voice penetrated the wrappings.
    â€˜Got a bit ’o news ’bout Geordie.’
    Jackie stood aside to let his old retainer in.
    â€˜Bit bloody late to come bringing chit-chat, ain’t it?’
    Joe pulled off his coat and followed Jackie into the disordered room. He eyed the beer wistfully.
    â€˜Get a glass, then – you know where they are.’
    When he was refuelled, Joe began to talk.
    â€˜Jus’ now, I was in the Lambton Arms in Gallowgate. I was having a penn’orth in the lav, when I hears some fellers come in. They was a bit cut and jawing nineteen to the dozen – I could hear ’em under the door.’
    â€˜Get to the bloody point!’
    But Joe was launched into his story and like a runaway steamroller, nothing could shift him from his path.
    â€˜One of ’em was saying as how he’d treat the others to another round of doubles – “flush, I am,” he says – “got a lovely little racket fiddling the tables with one o’ Jackie’s boys.” – “Oo’s that then?” says another feller. “Geordie Armstrong,” says the first one’
    Jackie Stott was all ears now. His head stuck out and his face got redder. ‘Who was it, Joe? Who the hell was it?’ He was almost shouting.
    Joe ground along imperturbably. ‘I couldn’t recognize the voice, so I gets me gear on quick and nips after ’em. Had a job, mind, but I just gets a glimpse of ’em as they got back to the Select Bar.’
    â€˜Who was it, man?’ yelled Jackie, his patience gone.
    â€˜Archie Lee –