One Night at the Perseverance Hotel

By T. R. Croke

Another town

 

Another murder

 

In this gripping British crime fiction novella, DCI Graham Vertue finds himself drawn into a dangerous murder investigation when he swaps the hustle and bustle of London in 1988 for rural Northumbria.

Cleaner, Vicky Thompson is found dead the morning after an epic bar fight at the Perseverance Hotel, a working-class favourite for its reggae weekends and easy access to weed.

With a tight-lipped local community and the London Met and Irish Garda holding back crucial information, Vertue must use all his skills to solve the case and scramble to prevent a deadly mission from being carried out.

 

A great short read for fans of the Inspector Frost mysteries.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.R. Croke
• Release date: Feb 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393923428

T. R. Croke

I became a writer after more than thirty years as a detective with the Irish police. The KATE BOWEN series is the work of my imagination, influenced and inspired by former cases and colleagues. Series prequel, THE TRINITY ENIGMA, is free. Click http://trcroke.com/News.aspx to join my reader group and I'll send you a free copy of the series starter, THE DEVIL’S LUCK.

Book preview

ONE NIGHT

AT THE

PERSEVERANCE

HOTEL

T. R. CROKE

Blue Door Publishing Ireland,

Fisherstown, Ballybrittas,

Laois, Ireland

Copyright © 2019 by T. R. Croke

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

Blue Door Publishing Ireland

Fisherstown, Ballybrittas,

Laois, Ireland.

www.trcroke.com

Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Book Layout © 2019 Lizzie Harwood

Cover Design by Design for Writers

One Night at the Perseverance Hotel/ T. R. CROKE—2nd ed

ISBN

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CONTENTS

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

England

1988

One

DCI GRAHAM VERTUE GAVE the empty bar at Broodmon’s Perseverance Hotel a cautious once over as he thrust open its swinging doors. He edged forward, picking his way across the sticky floor of the lengthy rectangular room. Digesting the wreckage, he grimaced at the functional dreariness of the place. A black and white poster on the bar’s end wall was the only interruption to its pervasive beige colour scheme. Solid no-nonsense drinking its apparent ethos, interior design not even an after-thought.

The poster announced a Glasgow concert by The Police, with Sting’s punk-esque pout its striking feature. Vertue’s brow furrowed as he had read that the group had split up. On closer inspection, he discovered the concert advertisement was three years out of date.

Thursday nights were lively at the Persey, a precursor of the weekend ahead. Tonight had been off the scale. Everywhere he turned, Vertue nudged debris. An upturned table here, a low stool, legs missing there, broken pool cues everywhere; graphic evidence of what had taken place. Behind the main bar was a disaster zone; glasses smashed and beer taps wilfully drawn down made the floor a sticky mess. The wanton destruction depressed the senior detective.

He needed to figure out what caused the epic bar brawl. On weekends the Persey concentrated the town’s druggies in one location, a magnet that enabled Vertue’s detectives to identify the pushers. He couldn’t afford to shut it down, and needed an olive branch to offer his superintendent that would ensure the place continued to trade. Before venturing inside, he’d interviewed some punters loitering near the entrance. They blamed the punch-up on the rash actions of one man.

Vertue made his way from the bar into the pool room where slot machines had been ripped out and dumped on the floor. Some with screens broken remained in place along the wall. Blood soiled the green baize of the pool table that had been the focus of everyone’s attention a few hours earlier. He knew if he left the place unguarded overnight much of the property would be gone by morning. The owner was at Broodmon station and most of his staff were in the hospital for running repairs. Vertue ordered the duty sergeant to post a constable from the night shift on a beat out front to deter looters.

Gordon Lyons, the landlord, had snapped up the bargain pub twelve months earlier, around the time Vertue transferred in as senior crime investigator in the district. A disco was installed and reggae became the driving beat of the Persey’s raucous weekends. Business skyrocketed for the Jamaican Yardie gang that controlled the drug supply in the locality, dealing mainly weed. They built a racket around the pub that gave them an income stream they ruthlessly protected. Vertue suspected Lyons was on a kickback.

Having a honey pot that drew people in, irrespective of race or class, helped Vertue paint an uncomfortable picture for his superiors of the town’s growing drug problem. He constantly sought increased resources that never materialised but used every opportunity with his tiny squad to take the gang on. He raided whenever a tip-off provided the opportunity and coordinated rolling checkpoints close to the pub that disrupted the Yardie’s trade.

Respectable Broodmon citizens showed up at checkpoints from time to time. The middle-class miscreants drummed up implausible excuses when challenged and more often than not, fled the area without their weekend joints.

Four black Paddy wagons crammed into the station yard by the time Vertue returned. The prisoner transports from Newcastle would ferry those arrested to the larger holding centre there, for overnight detention and court the next morning. A constable flicked a butt away on Vertue’s approach.

Tut-tut, smoking on duty.

Gis a break, Sir, Constable Orde replied. Everyone’s flat out these past few hours.

Only kidding, Jack. What’s the current status?

Last count we ‘ad fifty in custody. And Inspector Faraday’s at Broodmon hospital gettin’ ‘is ‘ead stitched, the dopey git.

"Did he really show up at the Persey in full clobber?

Sam Browne belt an’ all. And on his ownsome!

What possessed him?

The Super’s been fillin’ ‘is earhole ‘bout how the Persey’s a constant thorn in ‘ar side. I guess ‘im being new and all, he wanted to make ‘is mark.

Well, he did that.

Vertue grew up miles from the North-East, in Hertfordshire. His father was head gardener at the Bishop’s residence in St. Albans and his Home Counties upbringing, working alongside his old man or playing football, bestowed a ruddy complexion and a love of the outdoor life. While still a teenager he made the local first team. What he lacked in height and physique as centre back, he more than made up for in teak toughness.

His commerce degree from London Polytechnic