Free Dark Briggate Blues by Chris Nickson Page B

out to the lawn and a bathtub that backed up whenever it rained heavily. She opened the windows to air it and he kissed her goodbye.
    At home he put Sarah Vaughan on the gramophone as he worked through more of Carter’s papers. He had the information. Now, how could he use it?
    Midnight came and he still didn’t have an answer. All around him the city had gone to sleep.
    ***
    The morning brought a chilling rain that was too heavy for the windscreen wipers. He dashed the few yards from car to office and was still soaked. Inside, he smoked and stared out of the window, watching runnels of water glide down the glass.
    He picked up the telephone on the first ring.
    ‘It’s Joanna Hart.’
    ‘What can I do for you, Mrs Hart? Have you heard from Carter?’
    ‘He rang me yesterday,’ she said. She sounded drawn. ‘I tried you but you were out.’
    ‘Has he made another offer?’
    She told him the figure. To Markham it seemed a fortune, but she treated it as an insult.
    ‘He wants to meet again to discuss it.’
    ‘What did you say?’
    ‘I’m trying to arrange Freddie’s funeral.’
    ‘Then don’t let him bully you.’
    ‘He was very insistent.’
    Markham stared at his bandaged fingers. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Men like that can be.’
    ‘What should I do?’ she asked
    ‘Let him stew. He might raise his price.’
    ‘OK,’ she agreed after a while.
    He’d no sooner set the receiver down than it rang again.
    ‘Have you heard about Billy Harper?’ Harry Dalton asked. He was the man who’d put Markham in touch with the burglar.
    ‘Billy Harper? No.’
    ‘He did a job for you last week, didn’t he?’
    ‘Yes.’ And he’d done it well, recovering the gun and taking the papers from Carter’s hotel room. ‘But I haven’t seen him since Saturday.’
    ‘Someone gave him a hell of a beating last night. He’s in the Infirmary. Broke his jaw and messed up his hands. He’ll survive but he’s in a bad way.’
    ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘Don’t know if he’ll ever work again. Do you know who did it, Dan? The last thing he did was for you.’
    ‘I’ll try to find out.’
    ‘You do that. Billy has plenty of friends who’ll be looking for revenge.’
    He lit another cigarette and stared out at the rain again. It was beginning to seem like war.
    The post plopped onto the mat. Just bills. Never anything worthwhile.

CHAPTER NINE
    Markham walked into the hush of the bank. People talked in whispers, as if they were in church. The woodwork and brass all gleamed. He waited in the queue, mackintosh dripping rain on the parquet floor.
    The cashier took his cheque and walked away. Two minutes later she returned.
    ‘I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t honour this.’
    ‘What?’ He was loud enough for people to turn. ‘It’s only twenty pounds. There’s plenty in my account.’
    She glanced down, embarrassed.
    ‘Would you like to see the manager, sir?’
    ***
    He had to wait half an hour. Finally the manager invited him into the office. Mr Atkinson, the nameplate on the desk read. A spare, ascetic man, almost bald, eyes hidden behind heavy glasses. He opened a file and looked at the papers inside.
    ‘I believe you’re an enquiry agent, Mr Markham.’ Atkinson said finally. He pronounced the words as if they were something distasteful.
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘Aren’t you a little young for that?’
    ‘What does that have to do with anything?’ he asked angrily. ‘I want to know why there isn’t enough in my account to cash a cheque.’
    Atkinson held up his hand.
    ‘I merely mentioned it because my experience has shown that the young tend to be rather irresponsible with money.’
    ‘My account’s in the black.’
    Atkinson tapped the folder
    ‘No, it isn’t, Mrs Markham. You have three pounds and ten shillings in it.’
    He started to rise.
    ‘What?’ That wasn’t possible.
    Atkinson held up a piece of paper.
    ‘In black and white, Mr Markham.’ He held up a piece of paper. ‘You took out four