Dead Silent by Shirley Wells

Author:Shirley Wells
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2011-08-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

If Dylan lived in Dawson’s Clough, he’d make sure his local was the Dog and Fox. It had everything he wanted from a pub—good beer, friendly and efficient barmaids, cleanliness, no TVs blasting out the latest so-called reality programs, or jukeboxes deafening customers with the current tuneless crap.

This evening he’d spotted one of Alan Roderick’s colleagues in there. Dylan recognised him from this morning’s brief visit to Taylor and Anderson’s, the haulage company that employed Roderick. The tattoo of a snake winding down his forearm was difficult to forget. Also, it looked out of a place on a man approaching retirement age.

Dylan walked round the bar to be closer to him. “Sorry, but don’t I know you?”

The chap looked at him and shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

“Ah, I’ve got. You work at Taylor’s, don’t you?” At the bloke’s surprise, Dylan explained, “I called at the yard looking for Alan and saw you there.”

“Is that a fact?”

Typical. Of all the blokes who must work at Taylor’s, Dylan had to pick the grumpy bastard. As the man’s glass was almost empty, Dylan downed his pint and banged the glass on the bar.

“The same again, please, love.” As if it was an afterthought, he added for his companion’s benefit, “Can I get you one?”

The chap hesitated as if torn between pride and manners. “That’d be good of you. Thank you.”

Buying a bloke a pint was the best way Dylan knew to break the ice. Over a beer, all sorts of friendships could be made and confidences betrayed.

When the drinks were poured, Dylan handed over a note. The barmaid looked at it and raised her eyes. “It’s a nice thought, but you can’t get two pints for a fiver these days.”

Smiling at his own stupidity, Dylan handed over another note. “Sorry, love, I was miles away.”

“I remember,” Dylan’s companion said, “when petrol went up to a pound a gallon. A gallon that is, not a litre.”

“I never knew the Ark ran on petrol, Malc?”

“Cheeky madam!”

The little joke raised a smile and Malc lifted his glass in a toast to Dylan. “Cheers. Oh, my name’s Malcolm, by the way. Everyone calls me Malc.”

“Pleased to meet you, Malc. I’m Dylan.”

The ice was broken and they could chat as friends. All for the price of a pint.

Malc must have passed his sixtieth birthday, but he looked wiry and fit. He was wearing black denims and a spotless white short-sleeved shirt, and Dylan guessed he’d turn up for work in equally clean clothes. A man with standards. One who wouldn’t suffer fools gladly.

“Known Alan long, have you?” he asked Dylan.

“No. I’ve only met him once. I’m up here from London looking into the disappearance of his stepdaughter. His wife’s daughter.”

“Young Sam. That was a funny do, wasn’t it?”

“Dreadful for the parents.” Dylan supped slowly on his beer. “What about you? Have you known him long?”

“Five years. Yes, about that.”

“Get on well, do you?”

“He’s all right. A bit moody at times, but he’s okay. I can’t complain because he volunteers for all the long-distance trips and I can’t abide those.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.