Taking Natasha by Terence Mitford

Author:Terence Mitford
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2021-02-25T16:00:22.084126+00:00

Chapter Eight

At the end of that unique day, the day he had handed in his notice to quit the job that had been his life for the past twenty-five years, Mason decided to check the Tilted Hat bar again. It would be the fifth time that week that he had stopped there on the off chance that Darren Pitt would be inside. According to his ex-partner, and the mother of the child he killed, it used to be his local. He would be there most nights from eight in the evening until late.

So every night since he took the case, Mason would stop there on his way home and walk through both the lounge bar and the pool bar checking every face hoping, that just once, Pitt would be careless enough to return.

He parked in the car park at the side of The Tilted Hat and rang Kathy, as he did every night, just to let her know he would soon be on his way home. So that night was no different. Except that as he approached and looked through the windows he thought it looked busier than usual. Maybe it’s quiz night or some promotion on prices.

The bar was in a community with high unemployment and therefore had more than its fair share of disaffected young men. And men with no jobs, no status, and no hope, accounted for a fair number of violent incidents in the area, usually fuelled by alcohol or drugs, or Both.

Mason had learned, over the years, how easily tensions could be raised in communities that felt they had been left behind and were being ignored by the politicians of all parties. So, he was mindful of this when carrying out investigations in the area, and although it was difficult finding anyone willing to talk to police, it was more likely if they were treated with respect. But he was always ready to change approach when necessary.

He squeezed past four guys standing in front of the main entrance, thanking them as he pushed open the heavy wooden door. Inside was busy and the din from the rough clientele was louder than on any of his previous visits. But there was enough room to thread his way through the busy lounge, if you could really call it that, and into the pool bar at the back, which is where, according to Miss Simpson, Pitt spent most of his time.

The bar was quieter than the lounge and had an atmosphere all of its own. Strangers easily stood out and, as the door swung shut, he felt several sets of eyes on him. He paused a moment, then set off, as he did each visit, on a slow walk towards the rear exit, studying each face as he went.

He had a photo of Pitt in his jacket pocket. He’d kept it there since he first took the case. He wanted to be sure he would recognise him when their paths eventually crossed. But he hadn’t looked at it for two weeks.

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