Buying Llamas Off the Internet

by Ian Edwards

  ‘Well done, son, that wasn’t bad at all,’ Frankie said, materialising in the seat next to him. ‘I thought you nailed it tonight. Those weird blokes with the facial hair took it well. I guess if you’re going to look like that, you can’t take yourself too seriously…’

  The door opened to reveal Rosie, James, Harry and Sarah. ‘Well done, Alan,’ Sarah said. ‘That was so funny. I’m going to stock up on Marmite tomorrow. You know, just in case,’ she smiled again.

  ‘That was brilliant, mate,’ James added. ‘Especially when you gave it to those hipster wankers.’

  ‘James!’ Rosie interrupted. ‘There’s no need to be rude. And that goes for you too, Alan. I don’t know what you were thinking, talking about me on stage.’

  ‘Come on, Rosie, you know I’m not talking about you. It’s just a foundation for laughs. A joke is not a position. It is a proposition. It’s not real. Don’t take it personally.’

  ‘Well, I don’t like it. Why can’t you be more like other comedians? You know, the funny ones.’

  ‘That’s you told!’ James said, trying to avoid an argument.

  ‘Certainly looks that way,’ Alan sighed.

  ‘Come on everyone,’ Sarah said excitedly, Giles is about to go on stage. Rosie, you’ll love him, he’s really funny,’ she said opening the door for her friends. Alan stayed in his seat whilst everyone was ushered out.

  ‘That could have gone better, son,’ Frankie said.

  ‘I know. Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing. I mean, I love her, but she just takes everything so bloody seriously.’

  ‘Come on, son, I know what will cheer you up. Let’s go and have a look at this Giles Monroe chap. See if you can’t get some pointers.’

  Alan sighed as he stood up. He walked through the door, down the poorly lit corridor to the side of the stage where Rosie, James, Harry and Sarah were standing. Giles Munroe had just taken the stage in a bizarre kind of jog.

  ‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘thank you so much. Now, does anyone remember Chewits..?’

  Alan sighed, turned and made his way back to the Green room, the sound of Rosie’s laughter filling his ears.

  Chapter 11.

  Jayne eased the police car through the busy London traffic. Monty Montgomery sat in the passenger seat, swigging from a hip flask.

  ‘All I’m saying,’ he slurred, ‘is that we’ve got bloody blue lights and bloody sirens. We should bloody well make the most of them.’

  ‘I’m not sure this is an emergency, Sir,’ Jayne replied, not wanting to appear disrespectful, but mindful of police procedures.

  ‘Of course it’s a bloody emergency. It’s a murder investigation. We should be hammering it down the road,’ he said, taking another sip from the flask. ‘Want a sip?’ he asked, waving the silver flask in front of Jayne’s nose.

  ‘No thank you, Sir, and, with all due respect, I don’t think you should be drinking either. I mean, we’re about to interview a witness.’

  ‘Bloody hell, yes Mum. What is it with young coppers nowadays?’

  Jayne kept her eyes on the road, trying to avoid a response. Without much luck.

  ‘Well?’ Monty prodded, then sighed. ‘It’s no fun anymore, the job. I mean, in my day you could have a drink in the morning, nick some blaggers in the afternoon, slap them about until they confessed and celebrate with a few beers afterwards. I know you’re a PC, Talbot, but you don’t have to be so bloody PC all the time.’ He sat back in his seat, pleased with his attempt at humour.

  ‘Was that an attempt at humour, Sir? We’re still trying to recover from our bad reputation of the past. We have to do things right. We have to do things by the book.’

  ‘Bloody hell. Don’t get so arsey. And keep your eyes on the road…’

  ‘I am keeping my eyes on the road…Sir.’ Jayne replied, her hands gripping the wheel tightly to assuage her growing anger.

  ‘OK, calm down. Blimey. I was only mucking about. So, PC Talbot. Tell me, are you married?’

  Jayne chanced a nervous glance at the unshaven DCI to her left. She didn’t want to annoy him, but equally she didn’t want him to annoy her. She really just wanted him to shut up so they could get to their destination and back again in on piece.

  ‘Well,’ Monty repeated mischievously, ‘Is there a Mr Talbot in the picture? A solicitor or accountant maybe. A couple of nice dry cleaned suits in the wardrobe, two years from being made partner. Suspicious websites stored on his hard drive. That sort of thing.’

  ‘No, Sir. There is no Mr Talbot. And quite frankly…’

  ‘I’m available,’ Monty interrupted. ‘You know, if you fancy a bit.’

  Jayne blushed, unsure what to say, so she stayed silent and focused on the road ahead. They were almost at their destination. She turned left into the gated development and slowed the vehicle, looking for a parking space. Finding one right outside the flats, she manoeuvred the vehicle into a spare parking bay and switched off the engine.

  ‘Right,’ Monty said, taking a large gulp from his flask. ‘Let’s have a chat with Mrs Wotserface,’ he added, opening the door, and taking a slight tumble. ‘It’s OK,’ he said, ‘I’m alright. Someone moved the pavement,’ he giggled.

  Jayne sighed, unbuckled her seat belt, noting that Monty hadn’t even bothered to wear his, and pulled herself out of the police car. She had been silently stewing over Monty’s behaviour and as much as she wanted to let it go, she knew she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Taking a deep breath she walked over to where Monty gently swayed as he surveyed the apartment block.

  ‘Sir,’ she began, ‘I’m sorry Sir, but I’m not comfortable with your behaviour. I am not sure you should be interviewing witnesses in your state…’

  ‘What do you mean “in my state”’ he said, ‘what’s wrong with my state?’

  ‘…Well Sir, with all due respect, I think you’re a bit…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, you’re a bit…’

  ‘What? For Christ sake woman, spit it out.’

  ‘Well Sir, I think you’re a bit pissed.’

  ‘Pissed? I’m not pissed. It’s only…’ Monty looked at his bare wrist, ‘morning. I’m not usually pissed until well into the afternoon.’

  ‘In any case Sir, I think…’

  ‘I don’t care what you think, Talbot. I’m the DCI here, and what I say goes. If I say we go on a pub crawl, we go on a pub crawl. If I say we are going to stitch up The McNulty brothers, we fit up the McNulty brothers. If I say I am sober, I am…’ he paused, eyebrows arched, awaiting a response.

  ‘You are sober, Sir.’ Jayne replied finally.

  ‘Good girl. Now, about that date. Where do you want to go? I know a nice little all night drinker just off the main drag.’

  ‘Sorry, Sir, I’m afraid I don’t believe in work relationships.’ This wasn’t strictly true, but it most certainly was when it came to drunken senior management.

  ‘Bloody hell. There’s too many rules these days,’ he said as he made his way to the apartment door. ‘In my day you could chase the WPC’s all-round the office. A slap on the bum, no harm done.’

  Ignoring Monty’s ramblings, Jayne pressed the buzzer and waited. After a few moments a voice answered. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello. Mrs Armitage? It’s the police. We’ve come to interview you about Mr Clive Oneway’s fall from the flats. I understand you said you saw something. May we come up?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ came the reply and a buzzing sound indicated the door was open. Jayne pushed against it and entered the building, Monty following close behind.

  ‘I would have thought something this posh would have had a concierge or something. Keep out the riff raff. You know, people like us,’ Monty grinned at Jayne, who stared blankly back at him. ‘Bloody hell,’ he whispered to himself.

  Jayne pressed for the elevator, its doors opening immediately. Once inside she pressed for the top floor.

  ‘Penthouse suite is it?’ Monty said, popping a mint int
o his mouth. ‘Alright for some. Want one?’ he said, offering the packet to Jayne who shook her head. ‘Please yourself,’ he said as he took two further mints.

  Jayne wasn’t convinced the mints would fool anyone. Monty reeked of alcohol. It smelled like he has used whiskey as a bubble bath.

  ‘These mints fool everyone,’ Monty said confidently. ‘The buggers never know I’ve had a drink.’

  Before Jayne could respond, the elevator pinged to indicate they had reached their destination. ‘Right then,’ Monty said, clapping his hands, ‘Let’s see what Doris has to say for herself.’

  ‘I think her name is Doreen.’

  ‘Doreen. That’s what I said. Anyway, let’s see what she’s got to say for herself.’

  The elevator doors opened to reveal a wide aisle with four doors, two on each side, indicating the four penthouse flats that made up the top of the development. Jayne was about to check which flat they required when the door opened on the far left. A head poked out, quickly followed by the rest of the body. Jayne judged the woman to be in her mid-forties. She had shoulder length blonde hair and was wearing some kind of black aerobics outfit. Jayne waited for Monty to make the introductions, but he seemed more intent on leering at Mrs Armitage’s outfit.

  ‘Mrs Armitage?’ she said, taking control of the situation. ‘I am PC Talbot and this is DCI Montgomery. We spoke on the phone earlier…’

  ‘Yes, yes, come in,’ Mrs Armitage replied with a sweep of her hand. ‘Don’t mind me,’ she added, ‘I was just doing my Pilates.’

  ‘Is that like tapas?’ Monty slurred.

  Mrs Armitage stared at the clearly drunken man at her door. ‘Is he alright?’ she asked Jayne, nodding at Monty.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Armitage, it’s just tiredness. We’ve been working flat out recently,’ Jayne replied.

  ‘Yes, well. OK. You’d better come in, then,’ Mrs Armitage replied, opening the door wider.

  Jayne walked into the hallway and through to the huge open plan living area. ‘Blimey,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, we like it.’ Mrs Armitage replied. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’

  ‘NO!’ Jayne said a little too loudly, glancing at Monty. Then, more quietly, ‘Thank you. Mrs Armitage, I understand you may have seen someone entering Mr Oneway’s flat the night he fell..?’

  ‘Yes, well, sort of.’

  ‘Sort of isn’t good enough, think, woman,’ Monty interrupted as he made his way round the large living space, picking up and then replacing several ornaments.

  ‘I beg your pardon? Mrs Armitage replied, glancing nervously at her possessions.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Jayne said, ‘As I mentioned earlier, we’ve been working non-stop and we’ve not slept for ages. If I can take you back to that night…’

  ‘OK, I didn’t get much of a look at the woman. They had been on the balcony talking’

  ‘So it was definitely a woman. Do you know what they were talking about?’ Jayne asked.

  ‘No, not really and it was quite windy. There was a bad storm later. I could only make out voices. I’m not a nosey person you understand…’

  ‘Of course,’ Jayne urged the woman to continue.

  ‘It’s just that they were interrupting my meditation.’

  Jayne heard Monty snort. ‘Go on,’ she said.

  ‘I have to maintain my balance…’

  ‘That’s more than Oneway managed,’ Monty added.

  ‘Sir, if I may..?’

  Monty huffed and sat down on a huge cream sofa.

  ‘Please continue,’ Jayne smiled at the woman.

  ‘Well, I just couldn’t concentrate. The wind was quite strong, and I normally find that oddly soothing. But the voices were constant like a drone. I don’t like to pry, but it was disturbing me, so I got up and had a peek through my balcony window.’

  Jayne moved to where Mrs Armitage pointed. ‘…and you can see Mr Oneway’s balcony from here?’

  ‘Yes, just about. They are designed for complete privacy, but if you lean out enough, you can see next door’s balcony.’

  Jayne momentarily wondered how a woman who didn’t like to pry knew just how to look onto someone else’s property, but she let it slide. Unfortunately, Monty was less gracious.

  ‘So,’ he said, appearing behind the two women. ‘You’re not a nosey neighbour, but you had to have a nose at their conversation. No, no, don’t apologise…’

  ‘I wasn’t going to…’

  ‘It’s a good thing. Trust me. Curtain twitchers help us catch all manner of wrong ‘uns. Well done.’

  Mrs Armitage frowned at the eccentric man. ‘Curtains? I wouldn’t have them in the house. I’m not common.’

  ‘So…’ Jayne said, trying to get the conversation back on track. ‘You heard Mr Oneway and a woman talking. What happened next?’

  ‘Well, as I said, I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying…’

  ‘Despite your best efforts,’ Monty interrupted.

  ‘Go on,’ Jayne said, throwing Monty a fierce look. Monty held his arms up and backed away, a smile on his face.

  ‘Well, I stayed for a little while, trying to hear what was going on then I went inside and watched television, a documentary about Cathedrals in Northern Italy as far as I can remember.’

  ‘That’s it? Monty said. ‘We drove all the way here and that’s all you’ve got. Christ. Didn’t you get a look at the woman? What was she wearing?’

  ‘I was just about to ask that, Sir. Mrs Armitage, did you see this woman at all?’

  ‘Yes, well, sort of,’ she said. ‘I mean, I couldn’t see too much from my position, but yes. I saw her from behind. She was quite tall and I think she had long hair.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Monty asked.

  Mrs Armitage shrugged ‘I think she was foreign, definitely had an accent.’

  ‘I thought you couldn’t hear her’?’ Jayne asked.

  ‘I couldn’t, not when they were on the balcony. But I heard her say goodbye as she left.’

  ‘Where were you when you heard this? I imagine the sound proofing is very good in these apartments.’ Jayne asked.

  ‘I was dusting the front door’ Monty and Jayne exchanged looks ‘and I saw a woman closing his front door, she said goodbye. I could hear her she sounded foreign.’

  ‘Did you see what this woman looked like?’ Jayne asked.

  ‘No I still couldn’t see her face, just the back of her head.’

  ‘OK, what did her accent sound like? Jayne asked

  ‘I couldn’t say. But she didn’t sound French. I should know, I have a villa out in the Dordogne. No, it was like one of those modern foreign accents that you get nowadays.’

  ‘I’m sorry Mrs Armitage. I don’t follow you. What are modern foreign accents?’

  ‘You know. These new immigrants. The ones that sound like shouting.’

  ‘Do you mean like Polish or Ukrainian. Something like that?’ Jayne asked.

  ‘Yes, one of those Transylvanian bat countries.’

  Monty snorted again, ‘So, Mr Oneway was visited by an eastern European woman? That’s very useful. Thank you Mrs Armitage. Is there anything else?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ she replied.

  ‘I have a question,’ Monty said. Where’s your toilet. I need a piss.’

  ‘Down the hall, first on the left,’ she said, then, when he was gone she turned to Jayne. ‘Is he OK? Only he seems a little, you know, under the weather.’

  ‘He’s fine, madam,’ Jayne replied. It’s actually an act. We use it to unsettle suspects.’

  ‘I’m not a suspect, surely?’ Mrs Armitage said.

  ‘No, no, of course not. But he likes to remain in character. If you remember anything else, call this number,’ Jayne said, handing over one of her new cards.

  Mrs Armitage took the card as Monty returned to the room. ‘Right then,’ he said, clapping his hands, ‘Are we done? Only there’s a beer with my name on it down at The Feathers…’

  ‘
Yes, well, thank you Mrs Armitage. If you think of anything else…’ Jayne said as she headed for the door.

  ‘I will do,’ Mrs Armitage said, clearly eager to rid herself of the two police officers.

  Jayne held her temper until they had exited the lift and were making their way back to the car. ‘What is the matter with you?’ she hissed. ‘That was really embarrassing. I wouldn’t be surprised if she complains.’

  ‘Keep your voice down, love,’ Monty said. ‘Don’t look now, but the silly cow is looking at us. Doesn’t like to pry my arse,’ he added.

  Jayne chanced a glance up at the flats. She could just make out Mrs Armitage’s head peering over the balcony. ‘Do you think she knows more than she’s letting on?’ Jayne asked, opening the car door.

  ‘Almost certainly,’ Monty replied. ‘But the question is, who is this woman? And, did she toss him off?’

  ‘For God’s sake Sir.’

  ‘I mean, did she toss him off the roof?’

  ‘Oh, OK,’ Jayne said. ‘What do you think? Gut reaction?’ she asked.

  ‘Quick pint in The Feathers?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant, Sir,’ Jayne said, pulling out into the road.

  Monty sighed. ‘OK. How about our mate Oneway hires a foreign hooker. He has a bird. She might be English. She might be European. Anyway she finds out, she gets angry, they have a row on the balcony and she pushes him off the roof.’

  Jayne wasn’t so sure. ‘I guess we need to find out who this woman was and if he had a girlfriend I’ll have a word with Howe and Wen get them to go over the evidence, see if he had an address book or something. That’ll give us something to go on.’

  ‘Right then. Just drop me off at the pub and be on your way. Unless you fancy a quick one?’ Monty grinned.

  Jayne sighed and turned towards The Feathers.

  Chapter 12.

  Rosie looked up from her mobile phone. ‘Amy’s asked if I fancy meeting up for a coffee after work tomorrow,’ she told Alan, who was slumped in an arm chair watching football on television.

  ‘I wonder what she wants to talk about,’ she added.

  ‘It’s obvious isn’t it?’ Alan replied without looking away from the screen.