A Genuine Mistake by Ted Tayler (miss read books txt) 📗

club that only catered for men had had its day. But how many working men’s clubs are still in business? Very few of the traditional variety. Times have changed. As an ex-copper, I know how valuable they were for obtaining information. I knew where certain people would be on any given night. I could drop by the Constitutional Club and find Billy Jenkins with a pint of Watney’s Red Barrel in one hand and three darts with feathered flights in the other. A quick chat as he waited his turn at the oche, keeping as far away from the smoke from his Capstan Full Strength as I could, and I was on my way. If he gave me a useful tip, Billy found a pint behind the bar later, courtesy of the Salisbury Constabulary.”

“My Dad worked that way too, guv,” said Neil. “Terry hated the big family pubs that they built on the housing estates. They did away with the public bar, the snug, and the lounge. Everyone piled in together in one large room. The world and his wife could listen in to your conversation, and he had no chance of spending a quiet five minutes with a source without someone spotting them. The villains put the squeeze on the informants, and the sources dried up; sometimes, they got closed down permanently. No, Dad was sorry to see the corner pub and those small clubs disappear.”

“It is what it is,” said Gus. “There’s no way that way of life will ever come back. As for the club that Neil’s going to tomorrow evening, they have two snooker tables and a bar,” said Gus. “Barrett and Hogan went there together regularly at times during their early twenties and less frequently when Hogan’s family came along. These days it’s Sean and Byron Hogan who will be well known in the club. After finishing work at the firm his father built, Sean plays a few frames for fun, while Byron makes his name as a professional.”

“The practice they put in at home must have paid off,” said Luke.

“Every time I picked up a stick, it would remind me of the day my father got shot,” said Blessing.

“A cue, not a stick, Blessing,” said Gus, “but it’s a fair comment. Gerry always played snooker once he added the games room to his home. The boys took to the game when they grew tall enough to reach the table. We’ll learn how his death has affected them when we interview them.”

“Byron Hogan is in Turkey this week, Blessing,” said Neil. “Do you think we’ll get a chance to fly out to interview him?”

“I think we’ll concentrate on Sean Hogan first and ask him when his brother returns to this country. I want to talk to Rachel Cummins first, anyway. What’s the plan, Luke?”

“Tomorrow morning, guv,” said Luke. “After nine o’clock. Ms Cummins’s first fitness class isn’t until the afternoon. Then she’s at a gym in Bradford in the evening.”

“Call her and say I’ll be at her home on Trowle Common at nine-thirty,” said Gus. “I’ll drive here, collect one of you, and drive over.”

Five faces looked from one to the other.

Who would get the short straw?

  CHAPTER 5

“I haven’t decided who’s coming with me yet,” said Gus. “I need to reassess our strategy. Nothing is happening with this investigation. I thought by giving Nick Barrett enough rope, he might hang himself or at least reveal something damning about his best friend.”

“Nothing works to fit the timeframe, does it, guv?” said Alex. “Hogan and Barrett were at school together…”

“And Bristol University,” said Neil. “They took it in turns to drive there in term time and stayed in the city in the evenings enjoying student life.”

“After graduating, they flew to Australia together,” said Gus, “and backpacked from Darwin to Sydney, via Alice Springs and Uluru.”

“If one or both of them did something that made them a target, why did it take thirty years before someone sought them out?” said Luke.

“We can’t dismiss the gap year entirely,” said Gus. “But, again, if a jealous boyfriend discovered that Gerry Hogan slept with his girlfriend, fiancée, or wife thirty years before, it’s a long time to hold a grudge.”

“Maybe he slept with one of each, guv,” said Neil. “They all chipped in for a hitman.”

“Thank you, Neil,” said Gus.

“Unless they had only just discovered it happened, guv,” suggested Blessing. “What if it was a couple who were married for the past thirty years and things turned sour? Perhaps during the bust-up, the wife admitted she had cheated. The husband could have lost everything after the divorce, turned to the bottle for comfort, and started searching for the bloke his ex-wife had mentioned. He blamed Gerry Hogan for his miserable existence.”

“What books do you read, Blessing?” asked Lydia. “That’s a bit Mills and Boon, isn’t it?”

“It’s the only way I could bridge the gap between events in Australia and the murder six years ago,” said Blessing.

“So, we do need to find out more on these liaisons that Gerry Hogan had, guv,” said Neil.

“Good luck with that,” said Gus. “We can’t ask Gerry Hogan. Nick Barrett doesn’t have a clue, and the chances of the hostels they stayed at having records that go back that far are slim.”

“There may be a way we can find the pieces of one of your jigsaws, guv,” said Blessing.

“The famous jigsaws,” laughed Neil.

“Go on, Blessing,” said Gus. “Listen and learn, Neil.”

“I’m not saying it would be easy, guv,” said Blessing. “You say Nick Barrett knows nothing about the girls in question. That’s not entirely true. What was he doing while Gerry was chatting up one of these girls earlier in the evening?”

“Sat in a bar somewhere, getting drunk,” said Gus. Then he caught onto Blessing’s train of thought. “Barrett told us