The Ardmore Inheritance by Rob Wyllie (reading the story of the .txt) 📕

'Don't move you two,' he barked at Maggie and Jimmy. 'And call 999.' He strode purposefully towards the group of fans, thrusting his card out in front of him as he reached them.

'Ok, I'm the police,' he shouted, 'so boys, let's just calm it down a bit, shall we?'

The man with the glass spun his head around to face him, still with the jagged edge pushed into the other man's face.

'Sod off cop, I've got unfinished business here,' he snarled.

Frank gave him a sardonic look. 'Aye, well you just finish it off and you'll be looking at fifteen or twenty years. That's a lot of games you'll miss. Mind you, maybe that's no bad thing, given how crap you're playing at the moment.'

The man, still looking at Frank, pushed the glass forward and twisted it, this time drawing blood. He heard the other man give a gasp of pain as he raised a hand up towards the wound.

'Look, last warning pal,' Frank said, his voice remaining calm and steady. 'Put the glass down and we can just forget all about this. Because otherwise, you're in the deepest of deep shit. Last chance. Come on, put the glass down.'

'He's going to pay for what he's done, understand?' the man said, but this time there was an uncertainty in his voice.

'That sounds like a line from a bad movie,' Frank said, laughing. 'Come on pal, no woman's worth doing fifteen years for. And there's plenty more fish in the sea, you just need to look around this place. Lovely women as far as the eye can see.'

After he said it, he realised he could have chosen his words more carefully. But quite by accident it had the desired effect.

'What are you saying about my missus?' he screamed, now thrusting the glass in Frank's direction. The other man, seizing his opportunity, sprinted towards the door, dripping blood across the floor. 'She's a darling, she is.'

Not enough of a darling to stay faithful, was the first thought that sprang to mind, but this time he decided to keep his counsel. In any case, it was a bit hard to speak with a glass shoved against your throat.

'Look come on pal, this is your last chance,' Frank croaked. 'Put the glass down and I won't even take your name. And remember, my mates from Paddington Green nick will be swarming through that door in a minute, and they won't be so accommodating. So come on, put it down.'

Frank didn't see his brother approaching them from across the bar. All he was conscious of was something crashing into him, something that left him sprawled on his back on the floor and about four metres from where he had just stood. Dazed, he pushed himself up to see Jimmy face-to-face with the hooligan, his fists poised in front of him like an old-school Victorian prize boxer.

'Well come on pal, if you're hard enough,' he was saying, his tone menacing. 'Fancy it, do you? Well do you?'

◆◆◆

'If you're hard enough?' Frank laughed. 'Did I actually hear you say that? Who do you think you are, Clint Eastwood or something?'

'Well cheers mate,' Jimmy said, giving him an indignant look. 'What about thanks for saving my life brother? I think that would be a bit more appropriate. And what about my rugby tackle? A beauty, wasn't it? Took you right out, clean as a whistle.'

'Yes it was and it did,' Frank conceded, 'and thanks.' He tried not to make it sound too grudging.

The uniforms had now turned up and were taking statements from the Arsenal contingent, who all claimed to have seen nothing and were complaining loudly that they would miss the kick-off if the police didn't get a move on. The wronged husband was in handcuffs and was facing a charge of assaulting a police officer, if Frank could be bothered to fill in the paperwork. And Maggie was pulling on her coat, anxious to get back to her little boy, now that it was clear that both friends had emerged unscathed from their encounters.

Frank swore under his breath, as he realised his plans were wrecked for another bloody week. In his pocket, he felt his phone vibrate. Slipping it out, he saw it was a text from Eleanor Campbell.

Good news :-) finally worked out how to track down Geordie. Way cool. Bad news :-( it can't be done. Will (try to) explain when you're back in the office x

He had no idea what she meant, but maybe the evening hadn't been such a disaster after all. And at least he was going to see Maggie Bainbridge again soon. In fact barely fifteen hours from now by his uncertain calculation.

Chapter 19

They didn't normally frequent the Old King's Head in working hours, but Frank had arranged the meeting there so naturally they went along with it. This time, it wouldn't be just the three of them either, as today they were being joined by Yash Patel of the Chronicle. Maggie and Jimmy had bumped into him a few times on previous cases and shared the same opinion of him. Really nice guy, but in spite of the reverence for older generations that was such a credit to his culture, he would sell his own granny for a story. Probably already had, several times over, Jimmy had once commented. All they knew was that his presence had something to do with Frank's Brian Pollock affair, and that what he wanted them to do was slightly dodgy. On entering the familiar establishment, they were pleased to find that not only were Frank and Patel already there, but the drinks were already on the table, Maggie suspecting they would have been taken care of on a Chronicle expense account.

'Hi guys,' Frank said raising his glass. 'You know Yash, don't you? I assumed a large chardonnay and a Doom Bar by the way, hope that's ok.'

Maggie gave him a knowing smile in acknowledgement of the events of the previous evening