Ashes by Now Read Free Page A

that morning, all of that was yet to come.
    I arrived at eight-thirty sharp. New suit. Clean white shirt neatly ironed by the loving wife. Tie done up tight, and black lace-up shoes polished brightly.
    I reported to the detective inspector. He seemed about as interested in me as I was in nuclear physics, and sent me to introduce myself to the detective sergeant. If anything he was even less interested, and told me to go to the canteen to find another DC to talk to. He was eating double egg, sausage, beans, tinned tomatoes, chips and a fried slice. If anything he was the least interested of the lot. He sneered at my suit and made me buy him a cup of tea.
    When he’d finished his breakfast, he looked at his watch. ‘I’ll show you round the manor when I’ve had my tea,’ he said. ‘I know a boozer that needs checking out. Guv’nor should be bottling up in a few minutes. He’ll be glad to buy us a pint or two.’
    The DC took out an unmarked car that stank of last night’s Chinese takeout, and we drove through the back streets of Brixton to a little pub close to a council estate. The draymen were delivering, and we walked round the back, through a door and into the saloon bar. There was a dour-looking geezer behind the bar, leaning on the counter drinking a cup of coffee. As soon as he saw us he took down two pint glasses. ‘Lenny,’ he said, by way of greeting.
    The DC’s name was Leonard Millar, with an ‘a’.
    â€˜Tom,’ said Lenny. ‘This fashion plate is Nick Sharman. Detective constable of this parish. He’s the replacement for Sammy Plant. You’ll be seeing something of him over the foreseeable future, I have no doubt.’
    â€˜A pleasure,’ said Tom, and stuck out his mitten.
    I took it and shook it, and agreed that indeed it was a pleasure.
    â€˜What’s your poison, Nick? Don’t mind if I call you that?’ said Tom.
    â€˜No,’ I replied. ‘A pint of lager would be good.’
    I wasn’t that used to drinking so early, but I’d soon learn.
    Tom pulled two pints, and Lenny and I dragged a pair of stools up to the bar. Lenny said, ‘What kind of weekend did you have, Tom?’
    â€˜Quiet,’ replied Tom.
    â€˜Anything known about that blag at Safeways last week?’
    â€˜Not a word, Lenny.’
    â€˜If you hear anything – no matter what.’
    â€˜You’ll be the first to know.’
    â€˜Good,’ said Lenny, and turned to me. He was about thirty-five. Going to seed fast. Too many early-morning fry-ups, followed by a few pints probably. He was shorter than me, and fat, with a chin that almost hid the knot of his greasy tie. ‘Got any fags, Nick?’ he asked.
    I took out a packet of Silk Cut and put them on the bar. They helped themselves. I took one myself, and Tom lit all three with an ancient Ronson petrol lighter.
    Just then the draymen came in, and Tom busied himself pulling them a pint of best bitter each. Lenny sank half his lager with one swallow and said, ‘Good bloke, Tom. Well worth cultivating. Knows a lot of what goes on round here. Treat him right and he’ll do the same to you. This place never closes.’
    â€˜Don’t the punters know he’s on our side?’
    â€˜They know we come in here. But if the punters stayed out of every pub in Brixton that makes us welcome, most would have been out of business years ago. No. It’s a game, Nick. You must know that. You’ve been in the job long enough. We protect our sources, and they protect us. We don’t take liberties. Nothing’s ever said. If the info doesn’t pan out, we don’t come back with baseball bats. That’s not the way it works. Learn that, and you’ll not go far wrong.’
    The pair of us sat in the bar until opening time, and through till the three o’clock bell went, and Lenny told me something about the DS and the DI I’d be working