Leeds, November 1957
1957 had been a good year. Plenty of divorce business. The bloom had gone off too many marriages, it seemed; whole bouquets of them shedding their petals. It had kept him busy from January until the middle of October. Now, halfway through November, things were winding down. The petrol rationing that had been in force during the Suez Crisis was a memory. People were thinking ahead to 25 December. Families keeping the peace until Christmas was over. Holding a truce. And that was fine. It would pick up again in the New Year.
Dan Markham sat reading the morning paper, going through every article to tease out the time until dinner. For the last four days no one had come into the office needing his services, and for once the emptiness felt welcome. After so many hectic months he was ready to relax.
He lifted his head as he heard the clump of footsteps on the stairs. A familiar, heavy tread, the ominous, unmistakable sound of a copper. Markham waited as the door opened. Close, he thought when he saw the face; it was an ex-copper. Detective Sergeant Baker, just plain Mr Baker now. He’d retired from the force a year before. But he was dressed exactly the way he always had, an old mackintosh, belted and buttoned up, the trilby pushed down on his head, with a white shirt and striped tie. As portly as ever, maybe even rounder than before, a little more flesh to his jowls. He was carrying a large brown paper bag. Sighing, he settled on the empty chair.
‘This is a surprise,’ Markham said. They’d ended up working together on a case in 1954. Back then Baker made no secret of his contempt for enquiry agents. The man had been wounded by a bullet and never fully recovered. About the only useful thing to come from it was the uneasy truce the two of them had found. Not friends, but able to rub along together.
‘I thought I’d see if you were staying on the straight and narrow.’ Baker took off his hat and placed it on the edge of the desk.
‘I’m getting by. Enjoying your retirement?’
The man frowned.
‘My missus kept going on at me to retire as soon as I could, what with that injury from the shooting, so I had myself invalided out. Now she’s on at me to do something and not be under her feet all the time.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Women. Never bloody satisfied.’
‘You could find something.’ He knew Baker had a sharp mind. He was still young enough. And he was honest.
‘I daresay,’ he agreed. ‘It got me thinking, any road. You’re on your own here. People tell me you’re busy these days. You could use some help. I have plenty of experience.’
Markham smiled. It was the damndest job application he’d ever heard.
‘I make enough to support myself. There’s not enough to pay two people.’
‘Ah, you might be wrong there, lad.’ Baker stared squarely at him. ‘I’ve had a quiet word round the stations. They all know me. They’d pass stuff on. Missing persons, little things they don’t have the time to deal with properly. Think on. It could more than double your business. Get you out of this divorce
