For a brief moment Henry’s feet got completely stuck in something on the sticky carpet and he thought he might not make it across the floor. He had to stop and roll his shoes out of whatever it was. Very sticky.
With his face a picture to behold, he carried on up to the bar.
The man behind it could have been aged somewhere between forty and sixty, but many years of serious drinking and smoking had taken its toll on his complexion and his pock-marked face, bulbous red nose, veined face and watery bloodshot eyes told the story, as did his rasping voice.
‘Can I do for you guys?’ he asked his new customers. He took a deep drag on his fag and blew a thick cloud up amongst the rows of cleanish glasses that hung above the bar.
‘I’m looking for Freddy Cromer,’ Henry said, wafting a path through the haze of smoke.
The barman regarded him. ‘Who might you be?’
Henry revealed his warrant card and county badge. ‘A cop.’
The barman remained unimpressed. ‘Don’t know him.’
Henry said, ‘He’s a regular, apparently.’
The barman shrugged, replaced the cigarette between his lips, inhaled and exhaled again.
‘What’s this? Licensee-customer confidentiality?’
‘No. Just don’t know the guy. Can I get you a drink?’
‘Can I get you the local authority?’
‘Already had ’em. Didn’t make much difference.’
‘Excuse me.’ Janine eased Henry gently aside and stepped into the breach. ‘I’m Janine Cromer. Freddy’s my uncle. Terry Cromer is my dad.’ She allowed those names to permeate the barman’s smoke-addled grey matter, knowing they carried great weight. ‘Was Freddy in here last night? Simple question.’
‘Yes,’ he answered instantly, a changed man.
Janine waited for more information and when it didn’t come, she opened her palms in a gesture designed to encourage him.
‘Yes, he was here.’
‘Times? Was he drunk? When did he leave? Who was he with?’
‘Uh. . landed about seven, left at midnight. He’d had a few and was alone,’ the barman blurted. ‘Just normal, I’d say.’
‘He left here in one piece?’
‘No one messes with him,’ the barman said. ‘He gets left alone, he leaves others alone. That’s how it works with him.’
‘I assume you actually spoke to him?’ Janine said.
‘Only to get him drinks. Other than that he just sat in his usual place — over in that corner by the drums.’ He pointed to the spot by the stage.
‘How did he seem?’ Henry asked.
The barman shrugged. ‘Like I said, just usual.’
‘Did anyone else talk to him?’
‘Not that I recall. Y’know, we were pretty busy last night, Christmas Eve and all that.’
‘Yeah — the place looks well festive,’ Henry said. The barman shot him a look.
‘OK,’ Janine said, ‘let’s go. There’s other places he could’ve gone to.’ She took Henry’s arm. Henry nodded at the barman but refrained from threatening the local authority again. Like the man said, it probably wouldn’t be much use.
Outside it was chilly. Snowflakes wafted gently down from the heavens.
‘White Christmas,’ Henry said, catching a few flakes in his hand, hoping it wouldn’t be too heavy a snowfall otherwise the journey to Kendleton would be a nightmare. They walked over to his car and got in.
‘Right,’ Janine said stiffly, turning to him. ‘Can you now tell me why you’re interested in Freddy’s disappearance? It isn’t a job for a detective superintendent, is it?’
‘It could be,’ Henry said defiantly.
‘Only if he’s gone missing in suspicious circumstances — or, God forbid, turns up dead in suspicious circumstances. At the moment none of those things apply. So — were you just being nosy, or is there another reason?’
‘Well, I’d be a poor cop if I didn’t take the chance to look into the house of a big bad gangster, wouldn’t I?’
Janine uttered an exasperated gush of breath. ‘I bloody thought so.’
‘Actually,’ Henry began — just as his mobile phone started to ring. He took it out and answered it. ‘Jerry. . you still not gone home?’
‘No — too engrossed,’ Jerry Tope said. ‘Just had the FIM on again. . are you still in Belthorn?’ Henry said yes, as good as. ‘In that case you might want to get to the A amp;E department at Royal Blackburn Hospital. Shit’s hit the fan. . there’s an ARV on the way. . and Freddy Cromer’s turned up saying he’s just escaped from a kidnapper. He’s also waving a kitchen knife about and has taken a nurse hostage.’
EIGHT
Sending up a satisfying shower of dust and grit in his wake, Henry gunned the Audi off the club car park and accelerated towards the hospital, which was less than two miles away. In fact, on the journey down from Belthorn, they had been within sight of the huge complex for a substantial part of the way, as it was situated high on a hill, overlooking Blackburn.
As he drove, he reached across to the glove compartment, flicked it open and fumbled in it for his personal radio.
‘What’s going on?’ Janine demanded, gripping her seat belt tightly.
Thumbing the PR on with his left hand and steering with his right, Henry said, ‘Freddy’s at A amp;E, causing a rumpus.’
‘Shit,’ Janine uttered.
‘And he’s got a knife.’ Henry tabbed through the PR to tune it to Blackburn division’s radio channel, announcing that he was on his way to the disturbance, ETA four minutes. Then he asked for an update.
‘Unclear at the moment,’ the operator told him. ‘No patrols have arrived there yet, but a treble-nine came from the hospital staff saying that a patient had gone berserk and was holding a nurse hostage.’ At that, Henry glanced at Janine, who screwed up her face in agony. ‘And he’s got a knife to her throat, but we don’t have much more than that at the moment, other than it’s supposed to be Freddy Cromer who was reported missing earlier. Apparently he’s a nut job.’
Henry groaned inwardly at the last phrase. Not that it was off the mark, but it was perhaps a little non-PC — and Freddy’s niece was sitting alongside him, listening in.
‘Who is attending?’
‘An ARV and two section patrols. I’m trying to get supervision up there too, but I know they’re busy in custody.’
‘OK. I’ll take charge,’ Henry said as a flush of adrenalin hit his system. To himself he muttered, And doesn’t this day just keep giving. .
He braked at the red lights, sneaked carefully through them, then stood on the gas. The car almost lifted off and it felt good. He looked at Janine again.
She said, ‘A nut job?’
‘It’s a medical term.’
She glowered at him, unimpressed. ‘Doesn’t give him much of a chance in the eyes of the cops then, does it? Already labelled.’
Henry glared back. ‘Sometimes it’s best to go in prepared.’ He spoke into the PR. ‘If any patrol gets there ahead of me, tell them to take extreme care. Cromer is prone to serious violence and is very unpredictable. Understood?’ He looked at her again. ‘A label plus ingredients.’
The operator relayed this over the air, but said to Henry, ‘You could well be first on the scene. Other patrols are some distance away.’
‘Roger,’ Henry said, imagining them having to be torn away from their Christmas puddings.
They had reached the point where Shadsworth Road levelled out and Blackburn Royal Hospital was visible across to their right, illuminated by lights in the car parks and spotlights, angled up to the buildings, as well as by the lights showing from the windows.
Less than a minute later Henry pulled in close to the ambulance bays outside A amp;E. He jumped out and dashed to the boot, in which he kept his equipment, including a lightweight Teflon stab vest which he slid on underneath his zip-up jacket.
With Janine at his heels he ran through the A amp;E entrance and skidded to a halt at the reception desk. The place was busy and he shouldered his way to the front of the queue, saying ‘Police’ to the harassed-looking woman on duty there.