The Late Greats by Nick Quantrill

him.’
    ‘Not good enough.’
    ‘I’ve got a criminal record.’ He looked away from me. ‘I didn’t want the hassle’ he repeated.
    ‘So you thought you’d leave it?’
    ‘It wasn’t just that’ he said. ‘I saw these blokes leaving, they didn’t look like good news, so I hung back, made sure they didn’t see me.’
    I rubbed my face. This changed things. ‘How did you know they weren’t good news?’ I asked.
    ‘I just got a vibe off them, like they weren’t to be messed with. I didn’t even know Greg was in there, he hadn’t told me he was coming back. I thought they might have been robbing the place.’
    ‘What happened after you saw them come out?’
    ‘They got into a car and drove away.’
    ‘What kind of car?’
    ‘I don’t know. It was too dark to see.’
    ‘Colour?’
    ‘I don’t know.’ He stared at me. ‘I thought I was talking to her about my story. For the newspaper.’
    ‘Once we’re done’ I said, staring back at him, weighing up whether or not he was holding something back. I decided he probably wasn’t. ‘Did you hear them speak?’ I asked him. ‘Were they local?’
    ‘I wasn’t close enough. They were arguing amongst themselves, though.’
    ‘What did they look like?’
    He hesitated, started to say something, but changed his mind. ‘It was too dark.’ He at least looked embarrassed by the lack of detail he’d remembered. ‘Just average.’
    ‘What did you do once they’d gone?’
    ‘I went into the studio, found Greg on the floor. I could tell he was dead straightaway. It was obvious, so I ran. I called the police once I’d had a drink and settled my nerves.’ He shrugged. ‘What choice did I have?’
    I nodded to Julia. It was her turn.
     
    Rusting gave us no more. I dropped Julia off at her hotel. Having a witness changed things, even if the witness hadn’t supposedly seen a great deal. I needed to know what the police were doing. I walked into the reception area of Queens Gardens Police Station. I didn’t like the place. It was dull and grey. Institutionalised. The desk sergeant told me DI Robinson wasn’t available. I stood my ground and insisted. A couple of youngsters waited in bolted down chairs. They soon got bored of staring at me and went back to whispering and laughing at each other. Eventually, Robinson’s assistant, the one I’d given my statement to, made herself available.
    ‘What can we do for you, Mr Geraghty?’ she said.
    ‘I understand you’ve got a witness.’
    She looked angry. She walked back to the reception desk, pressed the release button on the door. ‘In here.’
    I followed her down the corridor and into an empty interview room.
    ‘How do you know about the witness?’ she asked.
    ‘He’s spoken to the media. You can read all about it tomorrow.’
    If she wasn’t angry before, she was now.
    ‘He said he saw a couple of men leaving the studio right after Tasker was killed’ I said.
    We stared at each other. I chanced my arm. ‘What did he tell you?’ I asked.
    She sighed, like she’d heard it all before. ‘With respect, Mr Geraghty, I wouldn’t tell you the time if you asked me. But please be assured we’re looking into it. This isn’t a job for you.’
    She walked across the room to the door and opened it. We were finished.
    I followed her back to the reception area. ‘His family want his things back, anything you found on him.’
    She stopped walking. ‘I suggest you mind your own business.’
    ‘What about the money he took from his girlfriend’s till?’
    ‘What money?’
    I smiled. She shouldn’t have confirmed for me that it wasn’t on his person when they found him.
    She showed me to the door. ‘I’ll let DI Robinson know you dropped in.’
     
    I left my car where it was and walked to Tasker’s flat. This was my first sighting of it in daylight. It looked like any other nondescript new build block which had sprung up around the city centre in the last few years. Plenty of glass and cheap