‘Old folk’s bingo evening. They can get a bit rowdy. Some of them are terrors on those zimmer frames, you know.’
‘Right.’
‘They don’t usually injure each other too much. But I’ll give you a shout if I need any help chucking them out.’
The landlord began to edge away, snuffling a bit, as if to suggest that he really needed to find a man-sized tissue or he was going to do something disagreeable. Cooper listened to the noise for a while as he sipped his drink. There wasn’t a great deal else to do, expect to study his own distorted reflection in the bottles hanging upside down in the optics behind the bar. There wasn’t even a jukebox in here. He could see one through the other side, in the” public bar. But judging by the colour of the walls in there, he knew the room would stink like a smoker’s armpit.
‘Did you know a young man called Neil Granger?’ said Cooper.
‘Yes, I heard about him. He used to come in here with the others.’
The others?’
‘His family. Friends. You know.’
‘You heard he was killed?’
‘Yes, very sad.’
‘He was in here on the Friday evening, a few hours before he died,’ said Cooper.
‘Yes, that would be right.’
‘Did he seem any different from usual?’
‘Not at all. Though he left a bit earlier than the others.’
‘There was a rehearsal that night.’
‘Yes,’ said the landlord cautiously.
‘Just a minute - is that what’s going on up there tonight?’
‘Happen.’
‘What do they call it?’
‘The Border Rats.’
274
‘What sort of thing is that? It sounds very noisy.’
They’re a bit secretive about it. Nobody’s supposed to know until they do the performance.’
‘Oh? And when is that?’
‘Next weekend. May Day bank holiday.’
‘I saw the Reverend Alton come in.’
‘Did he?’ said the landlord, surprised. ‘Well, now.’
‘And little Jake Oxley.’
‘Yes, he’ll be with his dad and his brothers.’
‘Can I go up and see what they’re doing?’
‘No, I’m sorry. Like I say, it’s all confidential. They’ve booked a private room, and that’s that. I can’t let anyone in/
‘You know I’m a police officer?’
‘Yes, I know that,’ said the landlord, and began to polish some more glasses. ‘Did you want another drink?’
In one of the bottles lined up on the optics, Cooper glimpsed a twisted shape that appeared over the shoulder of his own reflection. It looked like a head and face, but the strange thing was that it seemed to be black and shiny, and the only features he could make out clearly were the eyes. He waited, hoping the person would move into his field of vision. But instead it vanished into the distortion caused by the curve of the bottle, and then it was gone. Cooper turned, but was too late to see anyone. From the direction of the reflection and the background he had been able to see in the bottle, he guessed the person must have been standing right over by the door that said ‘Toilets’.
He walked over and looked at the door that led upstairs. There was a sign on the handle, and the door didn’t move when he turned the handle carefully.
Cooper looked at his watch. He was due at Fran Oxley’s in five minutes, and he daren’t be late. He couldn’t risk losing the first chance he’d had to talk to one of the Oxleys. Pity. He would have liked to hang around a bit longer.
He was halfway across the road to Waterloo Terrace when the noise hit him. Cooper stopped in amazement and turned to look at the pub. It was the first time he had heard the screaming.
Neil Granger had been rehearsing for something the night before he’d been killed. And Emma Renshaw had been a member of the same group two years ago, according to her parents. But what was it all about?
275
Cooper hesitated, remembering that Diane Fry was in the Black Country with Gavin Murfin. Then he rang her mobile number anyway.
‘Diane, what was the play that Neil Granger was supposed to be rehearsing for?’
‘Something called The Border Rats/ she said.
