Friday Feeling (5/8) By Nick Quantrill

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

The two men carried on playing pool, refusing to acknowledge his presence as the game moved towards being a 'black-ball' situation. Coleman lent over the table and swiftly picking up the black ball, deposited it in one of the middle pockets. 'You,' he said pointing to Melton's opponent, 'fuck off.' The man tensed and upended his cue. 'If you so much as even think about it, you'll be in serious trouble.' The man stared back at Coleman for a couple of seconds before throwing the cue on to the table and walking away. 'Good. I'm glad we got that sorted. We need to have a chat, Craig.'

Maynard zipped his coat up, and pushing his way past the first of the night revellers and workers making their way home, he walked away from The Mission and back towards the station. Coxon confirmed what he had suspected; Eddie Young had set the robbery up. Working in one of the roughest areas of the city had its advantages for him. He knew whose door to knock on when he wanted something doing. Although Coxon was holding back on offering a name, Maynard knew that he had some information. It would be a war of attrition. If he levered enough pressure, Coxon would eventually reveal the information that he had.

The 'carrot and stick' approach was very much part of the routine. Coxon could wait. At least he was making some progress.

Coleman removed the cue from out of Melton's hand and placed it on the pool table. 'I'm looking into a spate of car crimes in the Willerby area, Craig. Your name keeps cropping up. Anything you'd like to share with me?' 'I don't know nothing. I'm an East Hull lad, me. I wouldn't even be able to find my way about Willerby, even if I wanted to.' Melton fed the coins on the side of the table into the slot and released the balls. 'Come on, Craig. How stupid do you think we are? We've got a description that fits. It'll soon fall in to place.

It'd be better if you admit to it now before I'm forced to waste even more of my time on you.'

Melton was removing the frame from the set of balls, admiring their symmetry as he pulled on his cigarette. He looked up at Coleman and moved to the other end of the table to make his break. As the balls scattered around the table, Melton stood upright and looked at Coleman. 'I don't know any thing about it. Now why don't you just fuck off out of it?' Coleman picked up the spare cue and backed Melton into the corner of the booth. He smiled, turned away and potted the black ball in one swift movement. Throwing the cue back onto the table, he shouted his goodbyes as he made his way towards the exit.

Friday 6.30pm Maynard rubbed his eyes and stared up his computer. He needed to make notes on what Coxon had told him while it was still fresh in his mind. Coleman entered the room and placed a cup of coffee on his desk. 'Sorry, I didn't see you come in.' 'Don't worry. I'm just going to make a few notes and then I'm pushing off for the weekend.' 'Me too.' 'I've just spoken to Coxon. He definitely knows something about the robbery, but he's not giving it up just yet.'

Continued... Next Page (6/8)

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