Death in July Read Free Page A

their homes and financially comfortable.
    A quiet, affluent area.
    That image was shattered somewhat as Sam neared Geoffrey's home. Loitering outside the deceased man's detached stone cottage was a group of teenagers, none of them looking older than sixteen. They were shouting, pushing each other around exuberantly, jumping up and down on the low wall fronting the cottage. One or two stared at Sam as he drove past.
    He continued to the end of the road, where Newgate Ex-Servicemen's Club stood on the corner of the junction. Sam pulled into the car park, got out of his Capri and locked up. Walking around to the club entrance, he glanced back up Eastern Green Road, estimating Geoffrey's cottage to be no more than ten minutes walk away.
    Sam's path into the club was blocked by a doddery old gentleman insisting it was a private establishment. Resisting a smile, Sam explained he was an old family friend of Geoffrey Compton and was in Newgate for his upcoming funeral. Would the members mind if he spent some time with them reminiscing over their recently departed friend? Sam emphasised he had the permission of Geoffrey's son to be there. Technically, he wasn't lying. Benjamin had told Sam to do whatever he needed to get to the truth.
    The elderly doorman told Sam to wait and went inside the club. Minutes later, he re-appeared and waved Sam through. The main room was large, cool and sparsely-populated. A lengthy bar ran along the far wall, tables and chairs were dotted about the place, and a pool table stood unused in the corner. The dozen or so patrons scattered about the room took little notice of Sam as he headed for the bar. Only the hefty-looking barman paid him much attention. Leaning casually on a pump, hand towel draped over his shoulder, he watched Sam approach. When he spoke, his low voice boomed across the quiet room.
    'So, you're here for Geoffrey's funeral, are you?'
    'That's right,' replied Sam. 'I've got some spare time, so I thought I'd come and meet some of his friends.'
    The barman eyed him suspiciously.
    'Where and when's the funeral, then?'
    The question was sharp and fast, designed to catch Sam out. He had come prepared.
    'This Saturday,' he answered. 'Up at St Monicas church, I believe.'
    The barman grunted.
    'Well, I don't want you upsetting anybody,' he said begrudgingly. 'Do you want a drink while you're here?'
    'I'll have a whisky. So, who knew Geoffrey well in here?'
    The barman laughed as he reached up to the optics.
    'Everybody knew Geoffrey. He'd been coming here so long he was part of the furniture.'
    A glass of whisky was put in front of Sam.
    'See that chap sitting in the corner?' the barman said, pointing over Sam's shoulder. 'That's Harry. He was probably closest to Geoffrey.'
    Sam paid for his drink and headed for the corner. Harry was an old man in a tweed jacket and grey slacks. On the table in front of him was a pint of ale, a newspaper and a flat cap. He was currently engrossed in the paper.
    Sam stood next to his chair.
    'Harry?' he said. 'Do you mind if I sit down?'
    Harry ignored him, his eyes glued to the racing page. Sam coughed.
    'Harry?'
    'He can't hear you!' the barman shouted. 'Tell him to turn his hearing aid on!'
    Sam rolled his eyes and sat down opposite the old man. He studied Harry a while, trying to imagine what life must have been like for Geoffrey Compton. Stuck at home most of the time. Looking forward to meeting up here with his friends. Sam supposed these places were a lifeline for such people.
    Sam tapped on Harry's newspaper. The old boy looked up in surprise. Sam put a finger to his ear.
    'Turn it up,' he mouthed.
    Harry nodded and began fiddling with his earpiece. Suddenly, whining feedback filled the air.
    'Bloody thing!' he complained.
    Sam smiled.
    'Can you hear me now?' he asked.
    'Yes, young man,' frowned Harry, 'but, please, there's no need to shout.'
     
    ***
     
    'I probably knew him longer than anyone here. About forty years, I would say.'
    Harry supped heartily