‘Yeah, it’s clear,’ Reedy said.
‘Well, that’s good then,’ Harry said. ‘So, if you wouldn’t mind?’
Reedy didn’t respond, so Harry once again moved the beermat close to the man’s face, this time to touch the end of his nose.
With a huff, Reedy snatched the beermat from Harry’s hand and stuffed it into a pocket.
Harry stood up, with a nod to Matt to follow suit. Then, before they moved away from the table, Harry rested his right hand on Reedy’s shoulder, squeezed it just hard enough to make him flinch, and leaned in real close. ‘Thanks for your help,’ he said. ‘I’ll be making sure everyone knows how helpful you were.’
Reedy turned and Harry saw a faint crackle of fear at the corner of the man’s eyes, just visible at the edge of his sunglasses. If he’d managed to unsettle him, Harry thought, then at least there was a chance that he would pause on supplying the cannabis to kids, so that was something. And he might even flush Nick out from wherever he was holed up.
‘Come on then,’ Harry said, standing up, tapping Reedy on his shoulder in friendly fashion, ‘best we be off.’
Matt rose to his feet and followed Harry to the door, but before they got there, Harry said, ‘You see where that other one went?’
‘Toilets I think,’ Matt said.
Harry wasn’t so sure. ‘Seemed to suddenly need it didn’t he, after I mentioned Nick . . .’
Matt glanced over to the other side of the pub, to the toilets. ‘What are you thinking?’
Harry rubbed his forehead. He was tired. It was late. He needed to get some sleep. And he knew he wasn’t getting any soon. Then, through the windows in the pub door, he saw a flash of movement. It was someone running across the village green.
Harry pushed through the door and out into the fresh air. ‘Nick?’
The man turned mid-run and on sight of Harry almost tripped over.
‘Nick! Stop!’
Harry was running before he even realised he was moving. Then the sudden burst of movement caught up with him, with the sensation of his supper swilling around in his stomach, as his feet pounded on the ground.
Matt was on Harry’s heels and they made chase.
‘Where the hell is he going?’ Harry hissed out between hard, painful breaths.
Harry saw Nick disappear down a small lane, the darkness of the evening skulking in it. He followed, his lungs burning, legs feeling the pain of trying to run in shoes designed for a nice, casual stroll, not a race.
‘Footpath ahead,’ Matt said, ‘I’ll see if I can cut him off.’
With that, Matt skidded to a halt and took another path, which led down between two quaint little cottages.
Harry did his best to maintain his pace. Nick wasn’t getting away, but neither was he getting any closer.
The darkness of the lane closed in. Harry’s throat was burning now and he hacked up a glob of phlegm and spat. He felt sick, dizzy with the chase, but if Nick was running, then there had to be a reason for it and he wanted to find out exactly what that was.
Nick was only about twenty metres away and Harry watched the man, who looked skinny as a runner bean, leap over a style in the wall, and on into a field beyond.
Harry got to the style a few seconds later, decided against going for the jump, squeezed through, and continued on.
Sheep scattered and the moon was high now, though the night still wasn’t full dark.
Harry’s feet slipped and he only just managed to catch himself from losing his footing and ending up on his arse.
A shout from ahead and Harry saw Matt hammering his way across the field from another direction, and on seeing him, Nick changed route, heaving a right to head off the path and across the field.
‘Nick! It’s Matt! Stop running, you mad sod! We just need to talk! Stop!’
But Nick wasn’t going to stop, that much Harry was sure about, though he was slowing now, and he was gaining on him, which actually rather surprised him, considering how his own attempt at getting back into running as a keep fit activity was actually going.
Harry coughed, managed to dig just a little bit deeper, imagined that he was somehow managing to dump fuel into his muscles to burn, and that’s why they were on fire right now, because they were working hard, and Harry wasn’t going to stop, not this close, not a chance . . .
Nick tripped. Harry watched as the man cartwheeled through the air, arms and legs flailing, his voice letting out the cry of a frightened animal, then he slammed into the ground face first.
Harry and Nick arrived together, both sucking in great lungful’s of air.
‘Seriously, Nick,’ Matt said, leaning forwarded, his hands braced against his knees, ‘the hell did you think you were going, anyway?’
Nick tried to get up and flopped back down into the grass, but then Harry stepped in close and gave him a helping hand. The man struggled to both stand up and, at the same time, get away, but it was no good; Harry’s grip was of iron.
‘You can’t arrest me!’ Nick yelled. ‘I’ve not done nowt, I tell you! Nowt at all!’
Harry ignored the double negative. ‘I’m not arresting you,’ he said. ‘But if you run again, trust me, I bloody well will do!’
Again, Nick tried to pull away.
‘Matt?’ Harry managed to say, his breath not coming easy to him still.
Matt leaned in to help. ‘Come on, Nick,’ he said, ‘we just want to have a chat, that’s all, okay?’
‘I didn’t know he was dead! I didn’t! And I didn’t do it! I’m not lying! I’m not! You’ve got to believe me! He was dead when I got there!’
‘Come on,’ Harry said, a yawn cutting through his urge to throw up. He
