Friday Feeling (4/8) By Nick Quantrill

(1/8), (2/8), (3/8), (4/8), (5/8), (6/8), (7/8), (8/8).

Maynard nodded. 'And big businesses are screwing people like this guy out of business. I'm sure most people will think he's done well if he gets to walk away with a small nest egg for all his troubles throughout the years.' 'That's fair enough, but there's still been a crime committed here, one way or another.' Coleman was chewing on the end of his pen. 'It's a difficult one. Although it's supposed to be black and white, it's these kinds of incidents that make you wish the law was a little greyer and open to more interpretation. Do you know what I mean?

'Maybe it'd be a good idea to talk to a few people, see if anybody knows anything about Young. Give the situation a poke, so to speak. I've got to go and see McCormack now to update him on what I've been doing. I'll catch up with you later.' Maynard picked up his mobile phone and scrolled through the list of names. If anybody would have any information, it was likely to be Pete Coxon. Maynard phoned his number and arranged to meet him in The Mission on Posterngate, a ten-minute walk from the station.

Coleman returned to his desk. His brief meeting with DI McCormack confirmed that he was going nowhere in a hurry. Literally and metaphorically, he thought. McCormack had made it explicitly clear that he expected some progress on the car crime. He wanted to hold his head up high at the forthcoming management team meeting. A further session of data crunching and following up leads produced one recurring name, Craig Melton, a car thief with an impressive string of offences to his name. He decided that he'd have to ask him a few questions. If nothing else, it gave him the opportunity to get out of the office for some fresh air. He wouldn't be called into court at this time of the day.

Friday 5.30pm The Mission had initially been a seafarer's refuge before becoming one of the first buildings in the city centre to be gentrified by the pub trade. It was also a convenient place to meet as it contained several small booths in its quieter area, perfect for private conversations. The busier bar area was starting to fill up with boisterous office workers who had just completed the nine to five grind for the week. It's lucky for some, Maynard thought as he bought the drinks and headed for the booth that Coxon had secured. With his dirty weasel like face and downtrodden air, Coxon was a man Maynard was beginning to despise, but needs must.

Coleman pulled out of the car park and headed towards Holderness Road. He knew that it would be in the pubs at the top of this long artery that led from the Eastern edge of the city all the way into the city centre that he'd find Craig Melton. Coleman parked his car down a quiet side street and buttoned up his overcoat as the late-afternoon chill began to bite. He entered the lounge of the pub and scanned the room. The pub enjoyed a reputation as a no go place for non-regulars, and was hardly renowned for extending a warm welcome to the local police.

Many of the drinkers stared at Coleman and conversation levels audibly dipped as he made his way towards the corner of the room where he had spotted Melton, dressed in a dirty looking shellsuit.

Continued... Next Page (5/8)

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