by P. F. Ford
‘Thanks, Steve.’
Slater made his way across to Jones who was sorting through a pile of paperwork on the desk in front of him.
‘Sir?’ said Slater, showing the necessary respect for the other man’s superior rank.
Jones looked Slater up and down. ‘I’m told I can rely on you,’ he began. ‘Of course that remains to be seen, but you’ll have to do for now. I shall be leaning quite heavily on you because you have the local knowledge that I don’t have. Okay?’
‘Err, yes, sir.’
‘You don’t look very happy about that, Sergeant. Is there a problem?’
Slater thought that yes indeed there was a massive problem, and it was standing right in front of him. But he also knew better than to antagonise a senior officer, especially one who already thought he was dealing with a bunch of idiots.
‘Well come on, man, speak up. You won’t hurt my feelings.’
Slater wanted very much to tell Jones what an arrogant git he was, but now probably wasn’t the best time.
‘You don’t like my attitude do you, Sergeant? You think it would be better if I used a softly, softly approach to win you all over. Is that it?’
‘Err, well,’ said Slater awkwardly, ‘I’m not sure telling us we’re a shambles is the best way to make friends.’
‘I’m not here to make friends, Sergeant. I’m here to find and catch a dangerous criminal. A very dangerous man. Yet when I get here, I find no one seems to be taking this very seriously. It’s like carnival week at this station. Perhaps you think we don’t know what we’re talking about at Serious Crime. It’s as if you think you know better than us and we’ve got it all wrong. You’re all behaving as if it’s Coco the bloody Clown who’s on the loose!’
He almost shouted the last few words as he paced up and down, his red face a perfectly clear indicator of just how angry he really was. And Slater knew he was right to be angry. In fact, he felt distinctly embarrassed, because he had been as guilty as anyone of failing to take this thing seriously.
Gradually, DI Jones calmed down and finally stopped pacing up and down. He reached for a folder, which he handed to Slater.
‘Go and have a look through that file. It will tell you what you need to know about the man we’re after. When I do the briefing I want you up at the front with me, and I expect you to back me up. Is that clear?’
Slater nodded.
‘And make sure you get everyone back here by zero-eight-hundred,’ finished Jones, and with that, he marched out of the room.
Having had a quick look through the file, Slater made sure everyone was back in the room, ready and waiting. At exactly eight o’clock on the dot, DI Jimmy Jones entered. He marched to the front of the room and handed Slater a pile of files to hand around.
‘Right, gentlemen,’ he began. ‘Before we go any further, let’s get something clear. I’m sure some of you don’t like me or my attitude. Well, guess what? I couldn’t give a toss. The fact is, you lot are a bloody shambles, and if any one of you had walked into this situation at this station, as I have done, you would agree with me. So, before you start to question my attitude you might first consider your own attitudes and ask yourself this question. Do you think I would have anything to complain about if you had all approached this as the professionals you are supposed to be?’
No one said a word, but there was no need. The guilty faces said it all.
DI Jones let them all stew on their discomfort as he looked at each face in turn. After a prolonged uncomfortable silence, he moved on.
‘Now, I know you all think I’m a total arsehole coming in here like this, but as I already said, I really don’t care what you all think. As I explained to Sergeant Slater, I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to get a job done, and you’re all going to help me to do it.’
Again he paused to let this sink in.
‘However, I’m also not one for brooding. I’ve told you what I think and that’s an end to it. As far as I’m concerned, we’re starting from scratch now. Fuck up again and I’ll bollock you all again. Do your job like professionals and we’ll all get on just fine.’
He paused again and stared at each face in turn again, before nodding to himself.
‘Right. Let’s get down to business,’ he said, waving one of the folders in the air. ‘You all have one of these folders in front of you.’
He turned to Slater.
‘DS Slater is going to give you a quick run through now, but I expect each and every one of you to read it thoroughly. You have a very dangerous man on your patch. You need to make sure you know who you’re up against, and then we need to find him. So no more pissing around, right?’
This time, there were nods and noises of assent. DI Jimmy Jones had just raised his popularity several notches. Slater was duly impressed. Maybe the guy wasn’t such an arrogant git after all.
Turning to his presentation board, Slater turned over the cover to reveal an enlarged head shot of the villain in question. The handsome face could have easily been that of a 50s or 60s film star. In fact, it looked a bit like Dean Martin.
‘So this is the man,’ began Slater. ‘Don’t be fooled by the film star looks. This guy is the real deal. His name is Antonio-’ He squinted at the surname for a moment and then thought better of it. ‘I’m not going to even try to pronounce his surname – you’ve all got the file. He’s known to everyone as Slick Tony. He originates from Serbia…’
Chapter Three
One of the advantages to living close to the High Street is that it’s never far to go if you need shopping in a hurry. In less than twenty minutes, I had walked around to the little florist shop, had a lovely bouquet made up, and walked back. This particular bouquet was going to be delivered by hand, by me.
Now I don’t know about you, but I tend to think most women would be pleased to see a huge bouquet especially for them. But Sophia didn’t look too happy to find me on her doorstep. This wasn’t quite what I was expecting. Jelena had assured me that Sophia wasn’t mad at me. Could she really have got it so wrong?
‘Oh. Alfie,’ she said.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, feeling somewhat deflated. ‘Were you expecting someone else?’
‘No. No, of course not.’
She seemed distracted, not like the Sophia I had come to know with her beautiful warm smile. I always felt she didn’t look anything like her fifty-plus years and could have passed for a woman in her thirties, but today she looked every one of her years and a bit more. She had a sort of haunted look about her.
‘These are for you,’ I said, offering her the bouquet. ‘To say sorry for the other night.’
For a moment she looked as though she didn’t understand. Now I was really concerned.
‘Sophia? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ She sighed. ‘I’m just not sleeping very well.’
She took the flowers from me. ‘Thank you. They’re beautiful,’ she said, just about managing to summon up a half smile. Normally, I would have expected her to kiss me at this stage, or at least to see a big beaming smile, but today there was nothing. It looked as if she wasn’t even going to invite me in. I couldn’t just let this go.
‘Are you still annoyed with me?’ I asked.
‘No. It’s not that,’ she said. She looked desperately unhappy. I wondered what on earth could have happened.
‘We are still friends aren’t we?’ I thought I sounded a bit desperate, but then I realised I actually felt a bit desperate.
For the first time since she had opened the door, she looked into my eyes and for a moment I thought she was going to burst into tears. She managed to stop the tears, but she was obviously too upset to talk. I reached across, placed my hands on her shoulders, and turned her around.
‘Come on,’ I said, walking her indoors. ‘Let’s go inside and talk about it.’
I quietly closed the door behind us, took the flowers from her, and left them on the kitchen table. They could wait for a while. Sophia just sto
od where I had left her in the hallway. Then she let me steer her through her flat until I sat her down on a settee. I was really worried now. It was like leading a zombie through the flat.
I sat down next to her and took her hands. She looked up at me sadly and a single tear trickled down her cheek. I used a finger to gently wipe it away.
‘You’ll feel better if you talk about it,’ I said, encouragingly.
She gave a huge sigh in reply.
‘Is it to do with the phone call you had that night?’
A trace of alarm flickered in her eyes and then it was gone. ‘How do you know about that?’
‘Jelena mentioned it.’
‘She has no right,’ she snapped. ‘It’s not her place to go around telling people-’
‘Whoa! Hold on a minute. It wasn’t like that at all. I was asking her if you were still angry with me. She told me the phone call had upset you before I even got here. That’s all. She’s just concerned about you. And now I’m here, I’m concerned too. What on earth has happened?’
‘It’s nothing, honestly. My ex-husband called. It was totally unexpected and it brought back some painful memories I’d more or less forgotten about. It’s nothing for you to worry about, really.’
I knew she wasn’t telling me everything. She wasn’t making eye contact, and she certainly wasn’t being very expansive. But I also knew she had difficulty talking about her ex and her time with him. If I pushed her to talk it was likely to simply upset her even more. There was obviously more to it than she was saying, but I figured if I gave her some space she would talk when she was ready.
I shuffled up closer, put my arms around her, and gave her a big hug. She was very tense, but I felt her relax into me and she snuggled up closer and rested her head against my chest. A single, huge sob shuddered through her.
‘Oh Alfie,’ she said, sighing. ‘You are so good for me. What would I do without you?’
And then she began to cry, waves and waves of sobs making her tremble in my arms. I picked her up and carried her through to her bedroom, curling up on the bed with her still in my arms, gently stroking her hair, while she cried and cried.
Eventually, she stopped crying and her breathing became smooth and regular as she gradually slipped into a deep sleep. At one stage I tried to move, but even as she slept she clung on tight to keep me where I was, close to her, protecting her.
But from what? I wondered.
I heard a door close. Briefly, I wondered where I was, then I became aware of Sophia curled up next to me. She was still sleeping like a baby, and I had obviously dozed off too. Carefully I eased myself away from her and pulled the quilt over her. I looked at my watch. Jeez! It was past five pm. We must have been asleep for hours.
I made my way from her bedroom and pulled the door closed behind me. I guessed the sound I heard must have been Jelena coming home. I knew exactly what she was going to think.
‘So,’ said a voice. ‘I see you still friends. Have you been make up all afternoon? No wonder Aunt Sophia not come to work.’
She had adopted an ‘I’ve caught you red-handed’ pose, standing with her arms folded and one foot tapping on the floor. It was the sly grin that spoiled the pose and gave her away.
‘Shhhh!’ I hushed her. ‘It’s not what you think.’
‘You say that last time-’
‘And I’m saying it again,’ I assured her. I pointed to the kitchen. ‘In there,’ I said. ‘We need to talk.’
She followed me into the kitchen and pushed the door closed.
‘Sophia’s asleep,’ I explained, ‘and she has been since she cried her eyes out several hours ago. My guess is she hasn’t slept properly for days. There’s something badly wrong but she won’t tell me what it is. Will you keep an eye on her while I pop home? I have a couple of things I need to do. I’ll be back in a while, and I’m only next door so if you need me call me, okay?’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘So I right to worry. Did she say what is?’
‘She hasn’t really told me anything yet, but maybe when she wakes up she’ll feel more like talking. Are you sure you’ll be alright?’
‘Is okay. I will sit with her until she wake up, and I call you if I need you. I promise.’
‘Right. I won’t be long.’
Chapter Four
As I stood under a hot shower, I was feeling quite guilty about leaving Sophia, but then again I was sure she was in good hands with Jelena. To be honest, I was feeling confused. On the one hand, Sophia wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong, but then she obviously wanted me to be there when she had finally let it all go. Now I wasn’t really sure what to do next. The last thing I wanted was for her to think I was forcing myself on her and making her talk, but then I didn’t want her to stay away and make her think I didn’t care…
Not for the first time, I wondered why it is that some people always seemed to know what to do in these situations, and I never seemed to have a clue.
I towelled myself dry and wandered through to my bedroom. As usual, the window was open. A slight breeze was ruffling the curtains. I had just finished dressing when I thought I heard a noise from the kitchen. I stopped moving and listened hard. There was definitely a noise, although I couldn’t make out what it was.
Carefully and quietly, I crept through my flat. The kitchen door was open. Keeping close to the wall, I got as close as I could and peered in. I’m not sure what exactly I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what I saw.
‘Good evening,’ I said. ‘And what can I do for you?’
A large cat sat in the centre of the floor. As I spoke, he turned his gaze in my direction and made a little mewing noise, almost like a greeting. He was almost completely black with just a single splash of white on his face. He didn’t look remotely concerned by my sudden arrival. In fact, it was almost as if he had been expecting me. As if to prove the point, he stood, tail erect, and walked over to me, where he proceeded to rub around my legs as if we were old friends.
Now I have to confess I do love cats, and this one seemed to have taken an instant shine to me, so I bent down to fuss him. He began to purr furiously. I realised I knew this cat. Not much longer than a week ago I’d had a dream in which I was fighting with someone who was on top of me pinning me down with a hand over my mouth. As I had awakened from the dream, I had found this very cat stretched blissfully upon my chest with an outstretched paw on my lips.
‘We’ve met before, haven’t we?’ I said. ‘You’re the chap who came in through my bedroom window and overpowered me a few nights ago.’
This provoked an outburst of even louder purring, almost as if he was agreeing with me. I wondered who he belonged to. He certainly hadn’t been living rough – he was far too well fed for that and his coat was beautiful. If anything, he was slightly overweight. And anyway, he was way too affectionate to be a street cat.
‘So,’ I said to my new friend. ‘Where do you come from and what are you doing here?’
I stopped stroking him and went over to the fridge. As I opened the door to look inside, he curled around my legs so he too could see what was on offer.
‘I’m afraid I’m all out of cat food, but I can offer you some milk. Would you like that?’
He gave me another loud purr, which I assumed meant ‘yes please.’ This seemed to be the correct assumption as he settled in front of the small saucer of milk I placed on the floor and began to eagerly lap it up. I didn’t have a problem with him being here, but what if he actually belonged to someone else? I didn’t think it would be right to encourage him if that was the case. It would almost be like theft.
The main reason I had left Sophia was to shower and get changed. The cat was a fun diversion, but I had promised Jelena I wouldn’t be long.
‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave,’ I explained to the cat. ‘I have to go next door.’
If I didn’t know better, I’d have said the cat was listening to me and that he understood exactly what I had said. But cats
can’t do that, can they? Whether he understood or not, he followed me to the front door and as I opened it, he stepped outside. He waited while I closed the door behind us and then escorted me around the corner to Sophia’s door. I knocked and we waited.
‘I’m not sure you’ll be allowed in here,’ I said, looking down at him.
The door opened and Jelena looked out. She smiled at me, and then she noticed the cat.
‘Dibby!’ she said. ‘What you do here?’
‘Dibby?’ I echoed. ‘Do you know him?’
She looked as though she was going to tell me something, but then she seemed to change her mind and knelt down to fuss the cat.
‘He come tea shop for few weeks,’ she said. ‘He stray, I think. I feed.’ She poked him gently in the ribs. ‘Oh! Maybe feed too much. Bit tubby.’
She stood up and looked at me. ‘Surprised you not see him around,’ she said.
‘Oh, we’ve met. I just didn’t know he was called Dibby. He seems to be thinking about moving into my flat.’
‘He is nice cat. Make nice friend for you. Is good.’
She stepped back to let me into the flat.
‘Is she still asleep?’ I asked quietly.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘She not move.’ Then she turned back to the cat. ‘Are you come in?’
The cat took a look inside the flat, seemed to think about coming in, but then decided the night was still young and maybe there were better things to do. Having graced us with his company for long enough, it was now time to saunter off and do some cat things.
‘Okay.’ Jelena smiled, waving to him as she closed the door. ‘Have fun, Dibby.’
‘Why d’you call him Dibby?’ I asked, as she turned away from the door.
