Harry placed a hand on his companion’s back and, nodding towards the table where the only other women in the place were sitting, said, ‘Go and sit with your pals, darlin’. I’ll send a bottle over in a minute.’
When she’d gone, Harry turned and looked at Rob for the first time, a slow grin lifting his thin lips.
‘Robert . . .’ he rasped, using Rob’s full name as he had done throughout the six months they had been padded up together. ‘As handsome as ever, ya little fucker.’
Rob grinned as he felt the tension slipping off his shoulders. Harry had always looked ancient, but he appeared to have aged twenty years in the three since they had last met, with his watery, faded blue eyes, and the wrinkles cutting grooves in his deeply tanned face. Age clearly hadn’t robbed him of his strength, though, and Rob forced himself not to grimace when Harry pumped his hand with a vice-like grip.
‘Good to see you,’ Harry said, releasing Rob’s hand at last – and nearly breaking his shoulder when he clapped a gnarled hand down on it. ‘What took you so long?’
‘I’ve been meaning to get in touch for ages,’ Rob lied, surreptitiously cradling his hand when Harry steered him over to the bar. ‘But you know how it is . . . life got in the way.’
‘More like you’ve been too busy slinging your cock around to remember your old Uncle Harry, eh?’ The man gave a leery grin and clicked his fingers at the barman, who jumped to attention. ‘What you having?’
‘Er, whatever you’re having,’ Rob said. ‘But I’ll get it.’
‘Don’t insult me,’ Harry said, pulling a thick wad of twenties out of his pocket and slapping several down on the bar top. ‘Two fat Hens,’ he told the barman. ‘And a bottle of red for the ladies.’
‘Is that your wife?’ Rob asked, glancing over at the woman Harry had arrived with and wondering how the man had managed to pull her. Not only was she was much closer to Rob’s age than his, she was also surprisingly attractive – way too attractive for an ugly old bugger like Harry.
‘Mistress,’ Harry said, his eyes glittering as he, too, looked over at her. ‘Not bad, eh?’ He winked at Rob and jabbed him in the ribs with a rock-hard elbow before scooping up one of the glasses the barman had placed on the bar and throwing the double measure into his mouth. ‘Same again,’ he said, slamming the empty glass down. ‘And keep ’em coming,’ he added, before jerking his head at Rob and heading over to a table in a quiet corner.
Following, with his own as-yet untouched drink in his hand, Rob sat down.
‘So what brings you all the way out here on a shit night like this?’ Harry asked, his faded eyes still as sharp as a tack as he peered into Rob’s.
‘Like I said, I need a favour,’ Rob started.
Harry held up a hand to silence him when the barman came over with a bottle of Hennessy. Gesturing for the man put it down and go, Harry took a pack of tobacco out of his pocket and rolled a cigarette.
‘Go on, then,’ he said, looking at Rob again after lighting up. ‘You said you ain’t after money, so what is it? Drugs? Passport? Driving licence . . .?’
Shocked to hear how easily the items rolled off Harry’s tongue, as if he’d have no problem supplying any or all of them, Rob said, ‘I, um, wanted to sound you out about some people who got murdered.’
‘Murdered?’ Harry raised a bushy grey eyebrow. ‘Pals of yours, were they?’
‘No, I didn’t actually know them,’ Rob admitted. ‘It was a while back, and they lived not far from here, so I was hoping you might know something about it.’
‘Journalist, are you?’ Harry asked. ‘Or a private dick?’
‘No, nothing like that,’ Rob said, catching the glint of suspicion in the old man’s eyes. ‘I’m actually looking into it for a friend.’
‘Who got snuffed?’ Harry asked, taking a deep drag on his roll-up.
‘It was a couple,’ Rob told him. ‘Woman and her boyfriend. They got shot in her bedroom.’
He took out his phone and brought up the article he’d googled after reading it on Suzie’s laptop. Harry quickly read it and passed the phone back.
‘Do you know them?’ Rob asked.
‘Not personally,’ Harry said guardedly. ‘What are they to this friend of yours?’
Rob gave him the edited version that he’d rehearsed on the way over, leaving Suzie out of it and making himself out to be a friend of Josie’s who was trying to help her to get her life back on track. Harry listened in silence, and was frowning by the time he’d finished.
‘So let me get this straight,’ he said. ‘You think this Josie bird’s fella offed Devon Prince and his bird, and you’re trying to find out if he’s banged up so you can tell her she’s safe to stop running?’
‘Exactly,’ Rob said.
‘And this kid of hers, is she white or black?’
‘White,’ Rob said, taking a swig of his drink.
‘Well, she deffo ain’t the killer’s daughter, then,’ Harry said. ‘’Cos he’s black as night.’
‘You know him?’ Rob’s heart leapt.
‘Never said that,’ Harry said, the guarded look coming back into his eyes. ‘Tell me more about this Josie bird.’ He changed the subject. ‘What’s she look like?’
Rob gave him a brief description, and Harry pursed his lips. ‘Interesting. And how old’s the kid?’
‘Fifteen,’ Rob said. ‘Why? Do you know them?’
Harry shook his head. ‘Nope.’
‘Are you sure?’ Rob asked, convinced he had seen a spark of recognition in Harry’s eyes when he’d described Josie.
‘I’m sure,’ Harry said, downing his second drink and twisting the lid off the bottle to refill both their glasses. ‘I thought I recognized the names for a minute, but it can’t be the ones I’m thinking of, ’cos that Holly died when she was
