by JOHN STANLEY
‘I guess you have. Kemley said something about a horror comic. Is that where he got the idea for the Numbers Game?’
‘Yeah,’ and Radford nodded. ‘Gaines did a bit of digging. Turns out that the idea came from a comic illustrator in New York. Gaines got quite excited when he thought I was going to send him over there. I told him no because I couldn’t be sure he’d come back.’
Perlow smiled. ‘He would have,’ he said.
‘Yeah, you’re probably right. Anyway, when this somewhat obscure comic magazine came out nine years ago, a couple of people actually tried it. One of them even killed his father. The cops stepped in and the comic recalled as many copies as they could. The illustrator topped himself two years later. They reckon he was appalled by what he had done. Like I told Brian Chambers, you have to be careful what you say.’
The constable recalled his treatment of Ernest Kemley on those visits to the hostel and nodded.
‘Hey,’ he asked, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject, ‘what happened to Ray Gerrard?’
‘We’ve charged him with drug dealing and he’d sold booze to a couple of under-age kids. CPS reckon he might get six months if we are lucky. I did try to get them to charge him with being an idiot in possession of a peaked cap but apparently there‘s no such charge.’
‘Pity,’ chuckled Perlow and winced again at the pain.
‘Sorry,’ said Radford. ‘I won’t make any more jokes.’
‘Save them for when I’m better.’
‘What do you mean save them? That’s your lot for the year now.’
Perlow smiled.
‘Hey,’ he asked, ‘any news on Ginch?’
‘CPS charged him with perverting the course of justice. Turns out he knew what Kemley was up to but did not dare say anything for fear he would be next. We reckon he might go down but not for long.’
‘I hope he gets through it alright,’ said the constable with a worried look on his face.
‘Hang on, if he had said something, you might not be lying there.’
‘I know that but I still kinda like him,’ and the constable paused. ‘I suppose he reminds me of myself. They all do.’
‘I know.’
‘You do?’
‘I know everything,’ said the chief inspector. ‘I keep telling people but no one will listen.’
‘They will now, guv.’
There was a pause, the silence broken by a thoughtful Perlow.
‘I guess I made the right decision,’ he said, looking over at the crowded bedside table.
‘I guess you did.’
‘Hey, what happened to Ronny Gallagher?’
The chief inspector shook his head. ‘No go,’ he said. ‘In fact, you were in the adjacent bed in intensive care for a short while. Ginch watched over you both. How ironic is that?’
‘When did Ronny die?’
‘Last night,’ said Radford, standing up. ‘Listen, I have to go to a meeting now, will you be alright? Do you need anything?’
‘No, I’m alright,’ said Perlow and gave the merest of winks. ‘In fact, guv, there’s this nice little nurse I’ve got my eye on. South African. Very nice. Persuaded her to give me her phone number. There’s something about uniform, don’t you think?’
‘But what about the barmaid’s sister?’
‘Like I said,’ grinned Perlow, ‘there’s something about uniform, guv.’
Radford was still chuckling when he reached the car park.
Chapter thirty one
Half an hour later, Radford was in City Hall, having been summoned to a meeting with the council leader. Intrigued, he walked into the plush office to find Jason de Vere sitting behind his desk.
‘We meet again,’ said Radford.
‘Indeed,’ said de Vere, gesturing for him to sit. ‘How is your constable?’
‘He’ll live.’
‘I’m glad.’
‘Why am I here, Jason?’
‘You know, I like you,’ said the councillor with a smile.
‘Really?’ said the chief inspector, genuinely surprised.
‘Yes, and do you want to know why?’
‘I must admit I am struggling to come up with a reason.’
‘Because you call me Jason. No one else does. Everyone else calls me Mister.’
‘That’s what you get for surrounding yourself with sycophants,’ said the chief inspector acerbically.
‘Indeed,’ nodded the councillor. ‘You know, we are actually very alike, Chief Inspector. We’re both awkward so-and-sos but we get things done. The way you got that drugs gang off the street, that was remarkable, and the way you cleared up the horrible business with young Kemley, well what can I say? Makes life a lot easier.’
‘For whom?’ said Radford, aware that as they were speaking the bulldozers were ripping down the last of the Alma Street houses.
‘I am just saying that you have done an outstanding job.’
‘I had a good team.’
‘Yes, of course but teams need good leaders and you are a good leader. That’s what I told your chief constable when we met this morning.’
‘And why did you see our esteemed leader?’ asked Radford, playing innocent.
‘To tell him that the council will be allocating a special grant to the force to secure the financial future of Heron for the next three years.’
Radford tried to look surprised.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, your chief constable made a grave mistake in scrapping it and I told him so. I also told him that you were the best man to lead it. He did not seem very pleased but I told him that was a condition of the grant being awarded.’
‘Can you do that?’ asked the chief inspector doubtfully.
‘The good thing about surrounding yourself with sycophants,’ said the councillor with the slightest of smiles, ‘is that you can do whatever you want.’
‘Some people would say that you - how shall we put it? - bend the law to achieve that.’
‘No need to be so tactful, Chief Inspector, I am aware of Marjorie’s comments but I have to disappoint her. You see, I am actually as clean as they come.’
Radford eyed him for a moment.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘I think you probably are.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said de Vere. ‘Listen, I hear you are a good golfer. Would you fancy a game next week? I am meeting some German businessmen who fancy investing in the city. I am sure they would be impressed by a police officer like yourself, keeping the streets safe, that sort of thing. Always plays well with the Krauts, that sort of thing.’
‘OK. What with everything that’s gone on, I haven’t been able to get the clubs out for ages. Where would we play? The Lake?’
‘Oh, no, I thought we’d go to Forest Park instead’ said de Vere. ‘One has got to have standards, don’t you think?’
And he threw back his head and laughed.
Chapter thirty two
Darkness had fallen that evening as Danny Radford stood amid the rubble that had once been Alma Street. Sadly, he surveyed the piles of bricks and the shattered timbers and sighed; Jason de Vere had got his way as Jason de Vere always did. A crunch of broken glass made him turn and he saw Gaines walking towards him.
‘You were right, you know,’ said the sergeant.
‘I usually am. About what?’
‘This, guv,’ and the sergeant gestured to the wreckage. ‘It is wrong. This may only be grubby old Leyton but it’s worth saving all the same.’
‘A prophet in his own land,’ said Radford, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Fancy a drink to celebrate? I might even have a double tomato juice.’
‘Might as well,’ said Gaines.
A figure walking across the far side of the wasteland, illuminated by the street lights, caught their eye.
‘Isn’t that Marjorie Pretty?’ asked the sergeant, peering closer.
‘Too bloody right it is,’ said Radford and he looked at his sergeant with a twinkle in his
eyes, ‘Come on, let’s get out of here before the mad old chuff sees us.’
And with that they sprinted towards their vehicles.
The End
If you enjoyed THE NUMBERS GAME by John Stanley, you may also enjoy TACKLING DEATH by Bud Craig:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00GFAKJ3C/
http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00GFAKJ3C/
To find out more about Not So Noble Books and our catalogue visit:
www.radicaleyes.it/notsonoblebooks
Table of Contents
Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
Chapter eight
Chapter nine
Chapter ten
Chapter eleven
Chapter twelve
Chapter thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Chapter sixteen
Chapter seventeen
Chapter eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter twenty
Chapter twenty one
Chapter twenty two
Chapter twenty three
Chapter twenty four
Chapter twenty five
Chapter twenty six
Chapter twenty seven
Chapter twenty eight
Chapter twenty nine
Chapter thirty
Chapter thirty one
Chapter thirty two
