The Butcher Beyond by Sally Spencer

Author:Sally Spencer [Sally Spencer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2013-06-11T04:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

The Miners’ Welfare and Social Club was located on the edge of the village, framed by a slag heap on one side and the pit winding gear on the other. When Rutter and Paniatowski arrived, it was already full of pit men swilling back pints of best bitter in a futile effort to wash the taste of thick black coal dust from their throats.

The bar steward saw the two police officers the moment they entered the door, and made a bee-line for them.

‘This is a members-only club,’ he said in a voice which indicated that he felt under no obligation to be welcoming to strangers. ‘An’ even if it wasn’t, we still wouldn’t serve ladies in the bar.’

Paniatowski smiled sweetly at him. ‘Lucky for me I’m not a lady then, isn’t it?’ she asked, producing her warrant card.

The steward instinctively glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘We’re well within our rights to be servin’ alcohol at this time of day,’ he said, having satisfied himself that – on this occasion at least – they really were.

‘We’re not here looking for trouble,’ Rutter assured him. ‘We just want to talk to one of your members – a man called Jim Stoddard.’

The bar steward hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘He’s over there – at the far end of the bar.’

Rutter and Paniatowski strode over to where the miner was standing. ‘Could we have a quick word, Mr Stoddard?’ Rutter asked.

Stoddard turned slowly round towards them. His face was not old, Paniatowski thought, but it was certainly battered. His nose was slightly off kilter, as it had once been broken. A broad blue scar ran above his right eyebrow. And though his skin was pink from a recent vigorous scrubbing, there was still a hint of the all-pervasive dust in his wrinkles.

‘What can I do for you?’ he asked.

‘We’re police officers,’ Rutter said.

‘Well, I know that,’ Stoddard said. ‘It’s stamped all over you. An’ even if it wasn’t, my hearing’s not quite so gone that I couldn’t hear you talkin’ to the bar steward. So what do you want? To ask me about Pete Medwin?’

‘That’s right.’

Stoddard nodded thoughtfully. ‘A great loss,’ he said, and there was an intensity to his voice which gave new meaning to the old platitude.

‘You used to be his best friend, didn’t you?’ Rutter asked.

‘I still am his best friend – or, at least, I was until he got himself killed,’ Stoddard said, with unexpected ferocity. ‘Whatever led you to think that I wouldn’t be?’

‘Well, I suppose …’ Rutter began.

‘Did you think that I’d have had to say goodbye to our friendship when he went up in the world? That once he’d started wearin’ a suit an’ tie to work, he’d forget all his old mates?’

‘No, not that exactly—’ Rutter continued, digging himself further into the hole.

‘Of course that’s what we thought,’ Paniatowski interrupted. ‘Why wouldn’t we? There’s not one man in a hundred who can resist the temptation to turn his back on his roots once he’s started to get on in life.

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