The Crooked Beat Read Online Free PDF

the footpath was a large car park which served a range of electrical and furniture shops. We parked between two other cars. The shops were still open for another couple of hours, so people were busy going about their business. We wouldn’t be noticed. The man we were waiting for eventually appeared and stood where instructed. We watched and waited. I was pretty certain he was by himself. He wasn’t nervous. He was casually waiting for me to make myself known to him. I had no intention of doing that. I waited until he relaxed and started to walk about on the spot to keep warm.
    I glanced at Sarah. She was holding a small digital camera in her hand. ‘Now, I reckon.’
    She quickly took a couple of shots and passed me the camera.
    I scrolled through the photographs. ‘Perfect.’ I passed the camera back, started the car and joined the steady stream of the traffic leaving the shops.
     
    Before I headed to Niall’s bar, we returned to Sarah’s house and she printed me off a photograph of the man. The light at the bar was still on. Niall had been working hard. I guessed it would be opening on schedule. I walked over to the far corner and looked at the display of our dad’s rugby league memorabilia. The shirts made for a great feature. Someone had sourced copies of newspaper articles and framed them. He’d played at Wembley in the mid-sixties. Hull KR’s first ever appearance in the Challenge Cup Final. I was lost in thought and didn’t hear Niall walk up and stand next to me.
    ‘Alright?’ he said.
    I fingered the photograph in my pocket. ‘You’re doing a great job.’
    I turned to look at him. He’d been beaten. He’d cleaned his face up, but I could see the swelling and the cuts. We stared at each other. ‘What happened?’ I said.
    ‘It doesn’t matter.’
    ‘Of course it matters.’
    ‘It was obvious someone was going to catch up with me sooner or later.’
    ‘What did he say?’
    ‘He wanted the money.’
    I took the photograph out and showed it to him. ‘Was it him?’
    Niall nodded his confirmation.
    I told him how I’d got it. ‘Any idea who he is?’
    He shook his head. ‘No idea.’
    I’d asked Sarah to find out what she could. He had to be known.
    ‘Could do without this,’ Niall said. ‘The bar opens in a couple of nights' time. I’ll look a mess.’
    There was nothing I could say to that. The bruises would fade, but he’d have to wait it out.
    ‘I’m going to call it a night,’ he said.
    ‘Do you want a lift home?’
    ‘Wouldn’t say no.’
    We locked up and left. We drove across the city in silence until I pulled up outside his house.
    ‘Do you want to come in, Joe?’
    I looked at his face and thought of Ruth sitting inside, waiting. He had a lot of explaining to do. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
     
    Although I’d asked Sarah to do what she could identify the man, I couldn’t let it go. I had to do something. He’d attacked my brother and I was worried my nephew was going to be next. I headed for Terry Gillespie’s house. I hadn’t paid much attention when I’d first visited. It was a standard council terraced house. His front garden was overgrown and in need of some work. I knocked loudly on his door. No answer. All the windows were closed and the lights were off. I knocked again and shouted through the letterbox. Eventually, one of his neighbours came out.
    ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ he said.
    I wasn’t going to back down. ‘Looking for Terry.’
    ‘Try the pub.’ He pointed down the road.
    I knew where he meant. I nodded and thanked him.
    I found Terry Gillespie standing by himself at the bar, watching the football on the big screen. I ordered a drink and joined him. He’d received the same treatment as Niall. His nose had been broken and his left eye had closed over. Dried blood marked his face. I stood alongside him.
    ‘My ribs are killing me,’ he said.
    It was superficial damage. Enough to hurt, but not enough to do him serious