Why me? I asked.
'Because you're a Private Investigator. You're discreet. If the film gets into the wrong hands, it would cause me huge embarrassment. I'm sure you can see that, can't you, Mr Geraghty?'
Peter Snow smiled at me. A politician's smile. He was wearing a local politician's suit - cheap, but not too cheap. Well groomed. Just enough to say there was something about him, but not enough to intimidate. I told him to call me Joe.
'What does your wife say about it?'
Snow looked away from me. 'I haven't told her.'
I nodded. The business had bills to pay. Private Investigation isn't the easiest way to make a living in Hull.
'I was naive, Joe.' He flashed me his smile again. 'But we've put it behind me. I've had to. The election is coming up and I've spent months campaigning around the city. I can't let it go now. I've put years in working for this chance. I've sat on all the small time committees and attended countless soul destroying meetings about petty local issues. I deserve a shot at leading the city.'
He removed a piece of paper from his pocket and passed it over to me. 'This is the toe-rag who's got the tape.'
I looked at the address and tried not to show my disappointment; one of the few remaining tower blocks on one of the city's most notorious council estates.
'I'm told this man runs some sort of pornography empire from his flat.'
I shrugged. 'All you need is a DVD recorder and a load of blanks.' You could be selling them around the markets within hours. Plenty of them around the place and nobody was going to stop you. It sounded like the kind of minor scandal which would tip things in your opponent's favour. The city went to the polls next week and it's a two horse race between Labour and the Lib Dems. If Snow's party won, he'd be the leader of the council. Even in the provincial North, it wasn't to be sniffed at.
'You'll get it back for me?' he asked, opening his chequebook.
'I can pay you £500 now for your trouble and I'll pay the same again when you bring the tape back. Obviously I'll pay whatever it costs to buy it back.'
I picked the cheque up, read it and put it in my drawer. Don, my partner, was out doing our bread and butter work, serving warrants and tracking down court witnesses. It paid, but it didn't pay £1,000 for a couple of hours work. I quite liked Snow's opponent, Jeremy Brown, but not so much I wouldn't take the job. Brown had been round the block a few times, but Snow was younger. Maybe he was the future of the city, the kind of man the place needed. I probably wasn't the best to judge.
He stood up and offered his hand. 'Thanks for your help and discretion. You're making a genuine difference to my campaign. I won't forget it. I trust I can count on your vote next week?'
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