Detective Inspector Skelgill Boxset 2 by Bruce Beckham

Author:Bruce Beckham [Beckham, Bruce]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lucius
Published: 2020-07-15T22:00:00+00:00

17. THE YAT

‘Such an atmospheric pub – so steeped in history.’

Skelgill looks about as though this is something that has not previously occurred to him. Having intercepted Dr Agnetha Walker near the M6 motorway junction for Penrith and the A66 – the midpoint of her route home from Haresfell – he has driven her protesting to The Yat at Gatewath, just a couple of miles thence. Now they find seats in the crowded, beamed bar room, at a small round table beside the hearth. An early evening fire crackles merrily as it explores a lattice of freshly laid logs. Burnished brasses and polished horseshoes are nailed along the soot-blackened oak lintel.

‘Aye – happen it is – old coaching inn – dates from the sixteen hundreds.’

Skelgill, rather uncharacteristically, does not seem inclined to take the credit for this small aspect of his local heritage; instead he appears somewhat distracted – and perhaps his companion’s next remark touches upon his preoccupation.

‘I think we are attracting some interest.’

The landlady, a striking tanned blonde wearing a revealing bodice top, has now materialised and is scrutinising them quizzically. Skelgill raises a hand in acknowledgement, and her expression softens to a smile. She calls out through the chatter that she will bring a menu – my darlin’ – but Skelgill points to the specials board, as if to indicate it will suffice. She inclines her head and yields to the presence of a leering drinker who dangles an empty jug, and tantalises his thirst by hauling pruriently on a handpump. Skelgill averts his gaze.

‘You must be well used to that, Annie.’

In this ambiguous reply, Skelgill wraps a compliment with what might be a more pragmatic reference to her day job. She seems content to interpret it as the former, and indeed turns the tables with a teasing jibe of her own.

‘Dan – I sense competition for your attention.’

Skelgill again glances towards the bar – and sure enough the landlady has an eye in their direction. He shrugs and shifts his chair so that he cannot so easily be diverted.

‘When folk know you’re in the police, they’re always curious about what you’re up to.’

Dr Agnetha Walker responds with a small knowing grin, as though she does not entirely accept this explanation as valid under the circumstances. However, she folds her delicate fingers around her drink – a suitably slimline vodka and tonic – and assumes a business like manner.

‘And what are you up to this evening, Inspector?’

Her tone implies an inclination to subvert whatever are his good intentions. But Skelgill does not play along. He sits back and cradles his pint, and it takes him a moment to formulate a reply.

‘I thought we might fix a date to finish the pike expedition – this weekend, maybe – but you must be feeling I’m like a bit of a Jonah.’

‘What on earth do you mean?’

Skelgill takes a sip of his beer and grimaces as if it is bitter – which it is, by its trades description.

‘Every time I come near Haresfell there’s a new calamity.

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