Sinema: The Northumberland Massacre by Rod Glenn Read Free Book Online Page A

quickly, he said, “Little bit disorientated, I’m afraid.” There was a feigned slur to his words. “Missed dinner … I think that last JD went straight to my head.”
    “Well, you just make sure it doesn’t happen again. I wouldn’t want you scaring my girls now.” Her arms remained folded across her abundant bosom and her tone sustained an icy curtness, but she stepped aside and allowed him to pass.
    Brushing past her, he received an eye-watering whiff of an excessive use of Est é e Lauder . He started to walk away from the toilets, and then instantly realised his error. He spun and strode straight into the gents without so much as a glance in the landlady’s direction.
    Tess Runckle continued to watch the closed door to the cocks’ for a moment longer, a look of reservation etched in her face that caused the thick foundation to crease around her pursed lips.
     
    Opportunity Knocks.
    A run of mild, overcast days slipped by as he persisted with carefully bugging key areas of the village. The incident with Tess Runckle had shaken him, although he was loath to admit it, but it was a stark reminder of the risks he faced. He re-doubled his concentration and maintained patience and vigilance at all times. His only indulgence, to help pass the time, was to build on his earlier successes with Lisa, maintaining a healthy banter between the two of them. He would make a point to chat to her in the street or in the pub, always flirting, but never over-stepping the mark.
    Two blurred and eventful weeks had passed since his arrival when an opportunity arose quite out of the blue.
    Whitman was sat at the bar, sipping his fifth Jack and Coke of the night, and trying to ignore the smell of mould coming from Tam propping up his usual spot. He was staring at the packets of peanuts clipped to a board behind the bar, but his mind was running through hundreds of details on the residents, searching out the important ones that could be used to his advantage at a later date. The night had been slow, only a handful of patrons drifting in and out.
    Lisa appeared at his side, a couple of empty glasses in her hands. She winked as she scooped up an empty tumbler beside him. She was dressed in a thin white blouse that revealed the lines of her bra underneath and the usual shortest of short skirts.
    “Princess, you’re such a tease.”
    “You don’t know the half, babe,” she replied with a wicked giggle.
    Whitman’s smile broadened and, fishing further, said, “I bet it’s all just talk with you.”
    Lisa had turned to head back behind the bar, but that stopped her in her tracks. She turned to him, her expression mock-challenging. “I get off at eleven-thirty. Wanna find out?” There was a brief flicker of the tip of her tongue on her glistening lips.
    A tingling sensation like static electricity rippled through his loins. Fuck yes! were the first words that sprung to mind, but instead, he opted for a more laid back line. “How could I turn down a princess?”
    He caught Tam watching him as Lisa went back to work. The old timer had a strange look on his face, a mix of pity and antipathy. It was unexpected and out of place on the old man’s usual slack features.
    The old man turned away without comment and started rolling a cigarette with trembling, nicotine-stained fingers. As his swollen, arthritic joints worked to construct the smoke, he started humming a tune.
    It took Whitman a few bars before he recognised it. Devil in Disguise … Elvis.
     
    You look like an angel,
    Walk like an angel,
    Talk like an angel,
    But I got wise,
    You’re the devil in disguise …
     
    He had sunk another couple of whiskeys by the time Lisa appeared with her denim jacket and (fake) Louis Vuitton bag. “Ready to walk us home, Hannibal Letcher?”
    “You gotta love that razor-sharp wit,” Whitman retorted, taking her arm in his.
    Tam had long since shambled back to his pit and Big Joe offered a farewell wave as they walked out into the cool