Hunting Angels (Box Set) (The great horror writers (Masterton, Saul, Herbert) and now Jones)

by Conrad Jones

  “I’m sorry?” I said. I wasn’t sure what she wanted. “What’s the matter?”

  “I said, pick that up.” She was pointing towards a steaming pile of sloppy dog excrement. It looked like a small dinosaur had deposited it. Evie and I were thirty yards away from her and she was closer to the mess than us.

  “I think you’ve made a mistake. My dog didn’t do that.” I turned and walked away from her. The thought of picking up dog mess at the best of times turns my stomach, and to be honest, when no one is looking, I pretend she hasn’t done it and leave it for the insects to eat. This particular deposit would need a spade, not a poo bag. Anyway, my Staffie was not guilty and there was no way I was picking it up.

  “If you refuse to clear up after your dog, you will be fined fifty pounds on the spot.” She snarled the words, aggressively marching towards us. “It’s up to you to pick it up or pay a fine!”

  “My dog didn’t make that mess.” I continued to walk away.

  “I saw your dog do this.” She pointed at the steaming pile.

  “You’re mistaken.” I turned to face her. She was five yards away now and I could see the contempt on her face. “She hasn’t shit anywhere yet, lady.”

  “I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “You’re a liar,” I replied. I had heard enough. I have a short fuse when I know someone is wrong. I cannot tolerate bullshit. “I don’t know what your problem is, but she didn’t do that.”

  “Are you threatening me?” she shouted at me. Other dog-walkers heard and they stopped to see what was going on. I looked around. There were half a dozen people watching a six-feet-tall skinhead with tattoos and a dangerous dog squaring up to a petite female park ranger. There was only one thing they would be thinking. I am a thug refusing to pick up my dog mess, a park ranger has collared me and now I am threatening her. Great – explain that one to the judge, Conrad. “Help, please, call the police!” she shouted to the onlookers.

  I was baffled and deciding what to do when the Ranger’s scowl turned into a snarl. A low-pitched growl came from her throat. The Staffie freaked, and when she goes she looks like a rabid monster. Within seconds she was up on two legs, foaming at the mouth and straining at the lead. She was barking and growling in frustration because she couldn’t reach the Ranger. From a distance we must have looked a right pair. If she could have reached the her, she would have tried to rip her to shreds. The Ranger took her camera phone from her pocket and began snapping pictures of the Staffie and me. Evie was on two legs, attacking her. Explain that photograph, Mr Jones.

  “That dog needs putting down,” she chuckled. “I’m reporting you for having a dangerous dog.”

  “Fuck off!” I replied. It was the most polite answer that I could come up with. I yanked Evie a few yards in the right direction and decided to retreat.

  “I’m going to report you.” She carried on taking pictures.

  “Do whatever you like, you fucking retard. She didn’t make that mess and I’m not picking it up. It’s your fault that she’s flipped, stupid cow.” When I’m frustrated, I get angry. I was walking my dog and minding my own business. This woman had created a major drama from nothing. Some of the other dog-walkers had changed direction to watch what was going on, and a chubby female jogger stopped running and reached for her mobile phone. It was obvious from their expressions that I was an undesirable troublemaker bullying a defenceless woman.

  An elderly man with a white Yorkshire terrier approached: “I’ve called the police, luv, are you okay?” His back was stooped by age and his flat cap was pulled low just above his eyebrows. He poked his walking stick towards me as he spoke. “I’ve witnessed that young man,” he added.

  Now, you know that Evie hates other dogs, but white dogs are her total nightmare. Small, white, fluffy dogs send to her a new level of rabidity. She was spinning around on two legs, snarling like the exorcist. I was baffled by the woman’s behaviour. I knew that I was flogging a dead horse trying to explain myself to any would-be witnesses. I just needed to get Evie home safely. I decided that I would come back to the park later when she was settled and have things out with the Ranger, in case she did report me.

  I grabbed Evie Jones and made a sharp exit from the park. She was distressed and circled me all the way home. It is a protective gesture, apparently. It is a ten-minute walk from the park to my house, and as we turned into the front garden the first police car arrived.

  Chapter 7

  My Second Warning

  I took the Staffie to the front door and hurriedly unlocked it, which is more difficult than it sounds. There is a lock on the outer door and then a small porch area. Getting Evie Jones between the two doors when she’s on one can be a struggle. I closed the first door and unlocked the second before pushing her into the hallway. I wanted to get her safely inside before I faced the police. Once behind a locked door, it would take a court order to remove her. I had a feeling that there was going to be a heated argument at best. If things got irate she would not do herself or me any favours, and if a policeman got bitten then it would be curtains for her.

  I got her into the vestibule and locked the main door. She was bouncing off the back of the door, snarling like a grizzly bear as the policeman opened his door. She’s protective and she could sense my concern. I stepped onto the front path and closed the porch door behind me, which muffled some of her complaining, at least. I turned to face the police car, which had parked up in a lay-by at the front of the house. The house is on a busy roundabout and at the junction of one of the access roads, so the front gate comes out onto one street and the side gate comes out onto another. The police officer was talking on his radio and looking at me through his window. I waved and walked towards the front gate. He waved back and half smiled, which gave me some hope that this whole thing could be put down as a misunderstanding. It was hardly a police matter so far.

  That was until a second police car arrived and my favourite police officer from the previous night pulled up to the kerb next to the first. My heart sank when I saw him. I knew then I was in trouble and there wasn’t much I could do about it. For some reason he had a problem with me and now he had an excuse to throw his weight around. Things became worse still when I looked into his car. Next to him in the passenger seat was the Park Ranger. The stupid bitch was pointing at me through the window and laughing. Her nose was bleeding and she stemmed the blood with a paper tissue.

  “Have you just been to the park?” the first police officer asked politely as he climbed out of his patrol car. He seemed confused. They say policemen get younger as we get older and this guy looked wet behind the ears. His short dark hair was spiked up with gel.

  “Yes,” I answered. I walked to the gate and closed it between us. It was a psychological barrier more than a physical one, and I was anticipating conflict. “I’ve just walked the dog.”

  “What’s your name please, sir?” he asked, taking his notebook from his top pocket. The officer was in his early twenties, I guessed, and his body armour covered a white short-sleeved shirt, open at the neck.

  “My name is Conrad Jones,” I replied. I had my eye on the other patrol car as I spoke. I wanted to get my side of the story over before they did. “Look, I can explain all this. She was mistaken and she frightened my dog. That’s why she kicked off.”

  “I’m not here about your dog, Mr Jones,” he frowned. “We’ve had a report of an assault on one of the council workers.”

  “Assault? Are you joking?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?” He eyed me sternly and took out his pen. “Can you tell me exactly what happened in the park please?” He looked over his shoulder as the other police officer got out of his vehicle. As he approached, he looked at me with the same contemptuous expression as the night before.

  “I was walking the dog when the Ranger accused me of not picking up dog excrement. My dog didn’t make the mess, she was mistaken,” I began to explain as the bad officer and the Ranger approached. “The next thing,
she was raising her voice and waving her hands around and Evie tried to protect me. She didn’t bite anybody and she didn’t shit anywhere.”

  “That’s him. He threatened to smash my face in and then he elbowed me in the face as he walked past,” she lied. The tissue was spotted with blood. Her nose was bleeding – there was no argument there – but it was nothing to do with me or Evie Jones. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me. I looked to the skies for inspiration. What was wrong with the woman? The look on bad officer’s face answered my question. He was smirking from ear to ear until the first officer looked at him and he feigned a look of disdain. They were setting me up. I felt like I was being paranoid, but what else could it be? Why would they be doing this, why would they lie? “I want to press charges against him, officer, and I want to report his dog as a dangerous animal. It attacked me and it needs to be put down.” I looked at her forearm and couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing.

  “Can you tell me your side of the story, please, Mr Jones.” The first officer was calm and went about his job in a professional manner. I was glad he was there. I took a deep breath to calm myself down; the Ranger was making my blood boil. Threatening to have my dog put down in front of police officers was provocative to say the least. I did want to smash her face in at that point, but haven’t we all felt like that? Feeling aggrieved and backed into a corner by a liar would incense anyone. I gathered my thoughts before I replied.

  “She was mistaken about my dog fouling on the park. I refused to pick up the mess and she threatened me with a fine. I refused again and then she lost the plot,” I explained. “I did not make any threats at all and I certainly didn’t elbow her in the face.” The roundabout was quite busy and drivers were slowing down to get a look at what the two police cars were doing on the green. A taxi honked its horn loudly and one of my friends from my local pub put his thumb up as he drove by. This would be a topic of conversation at the bar for days to come. Don’t tell a taxi driver anything that you want to remain a secret.

  “He broke my nose and he has a dangerous dog, too,” she shouted from fifteen yards or so away. “It wasn’t muzzled and it attacked me. I want to press charges.” She lifted her left arm up and pointed to a rip in her sleeve. She held a gauze pad to her arm. There was blood on the dressing. Now that upped the ante. Not only did she have an injury allegedly caused by me, she also had a wound from my dog. Evie would be destroyed.

  I couldn’t believe it. She had blood flowing from her nose and a wound on her arm. Her sleeve was ripped and the skin was broken. I felt sick inside. I was gobsmacked. I was terrified. Evie Jones did not get close enough to bite her; she was a liar. The fucking bitch was trying to get my dog destroyed. “She’s a liar. The dog didn’t touch her and neither did I,” I said as calmly as I could. It was taking all my self-control not to throttle her and make her tell them the truth.

  “How do you explain the injuries, Mr Jones?” The first officer shrugged his shoulders. “This doesn’t look good at the moment. I think we should go to the station and sort this out, okay?” He was fair enough. “I don’t want to arrest you at this point, but if you refuse to come in I’ll have to.”

  The taxi beeped loudly as it past again; louder this time. Big Gordon had obviously driven around the roundabout to get another look. Under different circumstances, I would have laughed and flicked the fingers at him, but right then I was panicking. I was being accused of something that I clearly had nothing to do with, but I was there, my dog was there, witnesses saw her kicking off and the Ranger had pictures of us both at the scene. How the hell could I explain the woman’s injuries? I actually had to question myself silently as to whether we could have been responsible. Had I lost my temper and lashed out? It wouldn’t be the first time, but on those occasions either myself or someone close to me were being threatened. They were self-defence. The woman had wound both me and Evie Jones up, but not to the point where I’d become violent. This was pure fantasy, made up to drop me in the shit.

  “I have no problem coming to the station,” I replied. “I haven’t done anything and neither has my dog.”

  “If you haven’t done anything wrong, then you don’t have anything to worry about,” the first officer said calmly. “I’m going to call this in to the Custody Sergeant and tell him that you are coming in voluntarily. When we get there, we can sort things out okay?”

  “Fine,” I replied resignedly. What else could I do at that point? The first officer walked the ten yards across the lay-by to his car and reached inside for his radio. As soon as he turned his back, bad cop marched towards me. He was glaring at me as if I’d just eaten his children.

  As he neared the garden, he shouted at me, “Step back from the gate!” He reached for his baton and placed his right hand over the CS gas spray attached to his utility belt. “I said calm down and step backwards!”

  “What the fuck is your problem?” I said through clenched teeth. This was a set-up and he was at the root of it. The traffic had slowed to a virtual standstill now. He had his number on his shoulder today; he was Constable 6540. “I see you’ve got your numbers on today. That’s good because I’ll need them when I make a formal complaint, you knobhead.” The first officer could see something was amiss and he shouted over from the car.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “He’s threatening the victim,” 6540 replied. “I’m arresting him for assault and threatening behaviour. Step back from the gate now, this is your last warning.”

  “Officer,” I shouted, “this officer is threatening me again. What is your name, please?” I asked loudly. He appeared to be normal, whatever normal is, and he looked at 6540 with a concerned expression. My accusation didn’t seem to surprise him one bit.

  “Constable Wright.” He was eyeing me suspiciously now. What else could he think? The Park Ranger was making accusations, she was injured and the suspect was a tattooed skinhead with a Staffie. I was guilty before I’d opened my mouth. He shook his head as he spoke on the radio. “Both of you just calm down and wait a minute.”

  “This is your last warning!” 6540 shouted at me. I saw the Ranger grinning like an idiot as he stepped closer to the gate. Some of the vehicles had stopped and the drivers were climbing out of their cars. In the corner of my eye, I noticed Big Gordon approaching from the left, his taxi abandoned on the pavement. His presence offered me some support. He’s twenty-odd stone and he’s a good friend. Policemen or not, he would jump in if there was any chance of me being roughed up.

  Officer Wright shook his head as he walked back towards us. “Just calm it down, Knowles, there is no need for this.” He called for another car to attend. “Mr Jones has agreed to come in of his own accord. Back off and calm down!”

  “Shut up, Wright!” Knowles growled. They exchanged angry glances. I had a hunch that there was no love lost between them.

  “This officer pulled me over last night, threatened me and then spat in my face,” I said as he neared.

  “When?” Wright looked incredulous.

  “Last night at the top of Long Lane.”

  “Did you report it?”

  “No,” I answered embarrassed. I should have called the station immediately. Now it sounded like sour grapes. “I was going to ask my friend Peter Strachen for his advice. Do you know him?”

  “Yes, I know Peter.” Wright looked at Knowles. “Did you pull him over last night?”

  “Don’t be fucking stupid.” Knowles never took his eyes from me as he spoke. “He’s making it up because he’s going to be arrested.”

  “We’ll sort it all out at the station.”

  “I can see how this looks, but he’s setting me up,” I shrugged and realized how ridiculous I must have sounded. “I don’t know why she’s lying, but she is. I never touched her and neither did Evie. I want to make a formal complaint against Officer Knowles.” I took out my Blackberry and took a photograph of Constable 6540 and his friend the Ranger. The tables were turned and they didn’t like it
much.

  “Put that camera away now!” He did not like that at all.

  “I’m in my own garden, so fuck you. I’ll do what I like.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he growled.

  “I don’t know what your game is, but you and your little friend there are out of order.” The presence of the other police officer gave me some confidence, so it felt good to give him some grief.

  “Calm it down, both of you.” Constable Wright took the radio from his utility vest and called into the control room again.

  “7432.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’m going to call in your complaint and then I think we should all go back to the station to sort this out,” he said to me. He turned and walked back to his car to call it in with some privacy. Obviously, a member of the public had accused the other officer of a serious offence. He didn’t seem to have any affinity to Knowles. “I’m warning you for the last time, step back from the gate,” Knowles said quietly.

  “Fuck you,” I replied and leant against it, barring his way. I’m a strong man and there was no way he was coming through that gate. The other officer could enter my garden, no problem, but not him.

  “Step back now!” he ordered in a loud voice. The Park Ranger was still grinning.

  “No chance.”

  “Calm down!” he shouted at the top of his voice for effect. It made me jump. I was perfectly calm. He wanted onlookers to think that I wasn’t. He shouted at the top of his voice again. He wanted it to look as if I was being aggressive: “I said calm down!” He took his pepper spray off his belt and held it at arm’s length, pointing it at my face. Officer Wright climbed out of his car and shouted something, but I didn’t hear it. I was shocked by Knowles’s behaviour. “Get down on the floor! Get down on the floor!” he screamed at me as he neared the gate.

  I’ve seen what that spray can do to a man and I didn’t fancy a face full of it. I stepped back away from the gate and he pushed it open. I held up my hands instinctively. He kept coming forwards. Everything became slow motion in my mind. The Park Ranger was sneering and glaring at me with a look of sheer hatred on her face. Officer Wright was running towards us and shouting into his radio, and then Constable 6540 sprayed me with the chemical.