I showed him the book. ‘Close enough, you can finish the rest tonight. Let’s get out of here.’
I resisted the urge to throw my arms around his chubby frame as I jumped up from the desk and grabbed my things.
‘What are we doing?’ I asked him as we left the station.
‘We’re going to wander around and keep an eye on things.’
I was disappointed he hadn’t said, ‘We’re going to kick some criminal arse,’ or something to that effect. But truth be told, Bob didn’t look like the type of policeman who ever kicked criminal arse. If he accidentally fell on one he would be sure to pin him down but I couldn’t see him chasing anyone through the streets of King’s Cross, or vaulting over a table to tackle the perpetrator like Daniel had apparently done.
It was a pleasant day to be wandering around and the pace Bob set allowed me to stare at the shiny, expensive clothing in the shop windows, but after a while I started to get bored so I began to play Roger’s favourite game.
It was while Bob was buying himself a hot dog that I saw it.
A man stood in the park, the hood of his grey jumper pulled up over his head. As I watched, another untrustworthy looking character passed close by. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like something passed from one to the other.
I thought about it as we continued our rounds, suspicious about a couple of things. Firstly, obviously, the exchange, and secondly I found myself wondering why he was wearing a jumper in this temperature, with the hood pulled up. I mean I had a short sleeve shirt on and was glad I had put on my sports deodorant that morning. So when Bob went back for his second hotdog I stopped and watched.
The man was tall and skinny and had dark tufts of hair sticking out from under the hood of his jumper. His jeans had seen better days, more patches and frays obvious than whole denim. Wires traversed up the front of his jumper to his ears and he bobbed up and down, presumably to the music he was listening to. Either that or he was impersonating a cockatiel.
As I watched, a short plump man with a baseball cap pulled low walked right by him. Close enough to bump into him. Close enough to take something from him. This time I saw it clearly, the two hands smoothly passing objects one to the other, and before I had even thought about what I was doing I took off.
The tall man saw me coming and bolted. I could hear Bob shrieking my name from behind and a vision of him running – hotdog clasped in one hand, belly wobbling – made me want to turn to look, but I didn’t. The man’s legs were longer than mine and I couldn’t afford to lose any ground.
We charged across the park and down the main street of King’s Cross, his hoodie trailing out behind him like a flag. I dodged around a pedestrian and darted across the road after him through a break in the cars. He ran back up the hill towards the park and I could feel my breath coming in short, sharp jerks. He was getting away from me. I couldn’t believe it, my first chase and he was going to get away.
Just as I was beginning to despair he raced around the corner back into the park and ran smack bang into Bob, who was bent over at the waist breathing heavily. The two of them went down, hard. I heard his head smack the pavement and winced. That was going to hurt later. Bob bounced and rolled, squishing his hotdog as he went.
I leapt over Bob, yanked my hand cuffs off my vest and secured the perpetrator’s hands behind his back. I flashed him my badge, gave him my name and then read him his rights. I could hear a spatter of applause coming from a group of Japanese tourists standing at the edge of the park and resisted the urge to bow. Truth be told though, I was pretty impressed with myself.
‘Blimey,’ Bob said as he climbed to his feet. There was tomato sauce smeared over the front of his shirt and the hot dog sausage was sticking out of his top pocket. ‘You showed him.’
‘That’s as far as you made it?’ I asked. The hotdog vendor was barely 100 metres away.
‘You seemed to have it covered.’ He pulled the sausage out of his pocket, looked at it for a second and then took a bite.
‘You’re making a big mistake,’ my captive said.
‘You have the right to remain silent,’ I reminded him.
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Holding onto the handcuffs firmly, I helped him to his feet. Bob and I shepherded him back to the police station.
Dave, who was currently the permanent front desk officer, nodded at us when we came through the front door. His eyebrows rose at the sight of our cuffed prisoner. ‘What’s he in for,’ he asked.
‘Drug dealing,’ I said.
‘I’ll go get Richardson.’
We dragged our arrestee to an interview room, where he lounged on one of the chairs. His legs stretched out, his arms behind his head; he appeared to be quite at home. I could only assume it wasn’t the first time he’d been brought in for questioning.
It wasn’t long before Roger turned up. Like a puppy with a new toy, I was itching to show off my captive. Oh boy. I had it bad.
‘Hey Trent,’ he said, ‘Dave said they’d brought you in. What were you thinking?’
‘She’s very perceptive,’ he said, standing up and shaking Roger’s hand.
‘I was guessing it wasn’t Bob,’ Roger said, smiling at me.
Bob had the same look on his face that I was guessing was on mine. Utter confusion. At least I didn’t have tomato sauce on mine.
‘Bun, Bob, this is Detective Inspector Trent Bailey. He’s working undercover here at the moment trying to bust a drug ring.’
Oh Fuck. I’d arrested an undercover police officer.
‘I did try to warn you,’ he said to me.
I seemed, for the first time in my life, to be unable to speak.
‘Is she normally this quiet?’ he asked Roger.
‘No, not at all.’
‘Her name’s Bun?’
‘That’s my pet name for her; you know, cause of the hair.’
‘Cute,’ Trent said, looking me up and down.
‘I am here,’ I finally spluttered.
Trent chuckled and winked at me.
We left the two of them and proceeded back to our desks to write up the paperwork. I was feeling pretty deflated that all my work had come to zip. Plus, I had risked exposing an undercover operation. Still I couldn’t help feeling mollified by the warm response Bob was getting to the story of my chasing Trent down. Nathan made him tell it twice, and then when Roger finally came back he got him to tell it again.
By then the tale, like all good stories, had improved, until I appeared to be almost superhuman in my pursuit of Trent.
If nothing else, working with Bob was going to make me look good.
***
Bruce was already there when I got to the park that night. Lancelot let out a bark when he saw Cocoa and then the two of them raced off together sniffing and weeing on everything they could.
‘Good day?’ Bruce asked as I took a seat beside him.
‘Yes and no. You?’
‘My day is just beginning.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
He pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to me. It had the word Dazzle written across it in bold, hot pink writing and then an address. ‘That’s my club,’ he said.
‘Wow, you own a club?’
‘You should come by and check it out.’
I looked at the brightly coloured card. ‘You’re open Wednesday to Sunday?’
‘Uhuh, but the show doesn’t start till ten.’
‘Show?’
‘We have a stage show. Singing and dancing, you know that sort of thing.’
‘Sounds fun. I can’t tonight.’
‘School night?’
‘Yeah, but maybe tomorrow night.’ That was one of the nice things about being in the Police Force; we did four days on, four days off. After tomorrow I had four whole days to find a new apartment. Then I would do four night shifts before getting time off again.
‘Well would you look at that,’ Bruce said.
I glanced over at Lancelot and Cocoa, who had finished sniffing the grass and appeared to be more intent on sniffing each other.
‘Puppy love,’ Bruce squealed, clapping his hands together.
As we watched Lancelot mounted Cocoa and proceeded to hump him. Cocoa didn’t seem to mind at all.
‘Oh dear,’ I said, jumping up to separate them. Bruce was laughing too hard to be of any help, but I finally managed to get them apart. Of course as soon as I let them go Cocoa decided it was his turn and leapt onto Lancelot, his little hips to-ing and fro-ing as he clutched the poodle with his front paws.
‘Cocoa,’ I said, shocked.
‘Ohhh, that’s so cute,’ Bruce squealed.
Cute wasn’t what I was thinking, but I held back. I really didn’t want to offend my only friend in King’s Cross. I finally separated them again and dragged them over to Bruce so he could hold onto Lancelot.
‘I’d better get going anyway,’ I said. ‘Tomorrow?’
‘Got a hot date before work.’
‘Lucky you.’
‘He’s got a straight brother, maybe we could double some time.’
I laughed and said, ‘Yeah maybe.’
Cocoa gave Lancelot one last look over his shoulder before allowing me to drag him back up the street.
‘What were you thinking?’ I asked him. ‘And in public as well.’
Cocoa didn’t feel the need to explain his actions as he trotted up the road, and I couldn’t be mad. At least one of us had a boyfriend. That, of course, made me think of Roger. If the way he’d smiled at me when I’d left work that afternoon was any indication, hopefully soon I might have one too.
7
Sometimes My Mouth Gets Ahead Of My Brain
The last thing I expected when I got to work the next morning was to be dragged straight into Inspector Ramy’s office.
‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ he said.
I stared at him, bewildered and wondering if he had the right person.
‘Well don’t just stand there.’
Should I jig up and down on the spot? Move from side to side? Maybe he was expecting me to break out into a Michael Jackson style moon dance. In the end I opted for the jigging.
He stared at me with wide eyes while I jigged. When he didn’t say anything I threw some arms in, wiggling from side to side.
‘What the bloody hell are you doing?’ he finally spluttered.
‘You told me not to just stand there,’ I said.
‘I want you to tell me what you were doing arresting Detective Inspector Bailey yesterday.’
‘So … the drug dealer I brought in from the street?’ I said.
‘Yes him.’
‘So when I say the drug dealer I brought in from the street that’s not giving you any insight into what I was thinking?’
‘Don’t get smart with me girl.’
‘Not getting smart Sir.’ I said. ‘Just wondering how I was meant to tell he was an undercover policeman. Maybe you should make them wear a yellow ribbon or something.’
‘A yellow ribbon?’
I winced and stepped back from the desk.
‘A yellow ribbon? I’ve never heard of such a ridiculous idea.’
‘It was a joke Sir.’
‘You think almost blowing an undercover operation, months in the making, is a joke?’
‘No Sir, the yellow…’
‘I think you’ve had quite enough to say young lady. You can take this as your first formal warning on your probation. Another stunt like this and you’ll be off the Force before you can even think about yellow ribbons. You’re dismissed, Probationary Constable Smith.’
I turned and stalked to the door muttering under my breath.
‘One more thing.’
I turned to look at him, trying to keep the look of distaste off my face.
‘You’ll be manning the front desk from now on.’
‘But Sir,’ I said, ‘who’ll make the men their coffee?’
He must have missed the sarcasm in my voice because he said, ‘Oh, hmm, well I am sure they’ll manage until you get back.’
I left his office, very proud of myself for not slamming the door, and made my way to the front desk.
‘Anything I need to know?’ I asked Dave.
‘It’s all in here,’ he said, smiling as he thumped a huge manual.
‘You are shitting me?’ It was a different manual to the one I’d waded through already.
‘Nope, get it read as fast as you can.’
I had a thought as I relieved him from the front counter. ‘Hey Dave,’ I said ‘what did you do to get stuck out here.’
‘Oh about nine months ago I went out on patrol and got caught having a nap in the park.’
‘Nine months ago?’ Geez Louise.
‘Yeah,’ he said with a big grin on his face, ‘nine long months.’
***
‘Work sucks,’ I said to Cocoa when I got home. I lay on the couch with him curled up on my chest and told him all about it. He at least agreed with me that I had been treated in a most unfair manner.
The boys had been sympathetic. Nathan, Bob and Mark had bought me chocolate and Roger had come and hung around the front desk for a while trying to cheer me up.
‘Bad luck bun,’ I said, trying to imitate his posh English accent. It sounded so yummy when he’d said it.
Cocoa, bored with hearing me go on about Roger, jumped off my chest, padded to the door and whined.
‘Sorry boy,’ I said, getting up and grabbing his lead. I could do with some fresh air as well.
I took him down to the park and let him off, but we both agreed it was lonely there without Bruce and Lancelot, so after a few minutes I put him back on the lead and we went for a walk around the streets.
‘Oh look,’ I said to Cocoa, ‘a dog groomers.’
I studied the photos of the dogs in the window and then took one of the business cards they had left in a holder out the front. Cocoa was going to need a grooming soon. His eyebrows were getting so long he could hardly see and his beard was matted.
As I slid the card into my pocket I felt another piece of cardboard. I pulled it out and looked at it. Dazzle. The trauma of the day had driven Bruce’s club from my mind.
I thought about going to the club; imagining the music flowing around me as I sipped a cocktail and forgot all about Inspector Ramy, and all of a sudden I wanted to go. I hadn’t been out forever, and I didn’t feel like doing any study that night. This would be just what the doctor ordered – if he was a cute single doctor. And better yet I had the perfect outfit; a little black dress Becky had given me as a going away present. My mind made up, Cocoa and I headed for home.
***
A few hours later I hovered nervously outside Dazzle. It hadn’t been hard to find; the pink neon sign flashed and danced in the dark. ‘Come on Chanel,’ I said, ‘it’s just a club.’ Grasping the rail I descended carefully, making sure my fake Jimmy Choo shoes didn’t catch on the stairs, and then I entered Dazzle.
There was music playing in the background, quiet enough that you could still have a conversation if you wanted. A large stage took up the entire far side of the club; the plush red curtain flowing to the floor. Small intimate tables were scattered around the rest of the room, their chairs positioned so each person could see the stage. Some of the tables were already occupied, the buzz of the conversation just audible over the music.
I headed for the bar and slid onto one of the stools, making sure my dress was pulled down over my thighs; nothing like an eye-full of hail damage to put off a prospective date.
Bruce was serving drinks at the other end of the bar. He bustled over to me, handing me a cocktail list.
‘Hi,’ I said, smiling at him.
He stared at me for a full second before squealing, ‘Chanel, O M G girlfriend, you look amazing. Let me get a better look at you.’ He flapped his hands at me, urging me to stand up.
I did, pirouetting on
the spot before sitting back down; embarrassed but also secretly pleased to be getting some positive attention.
‘Glam baby glam. I love your hair like that.’
I subconsciously patted my ponytail which was pulled up on top of my head. ‘Thanks. How’d your date go?
He threw some ingredients in a blender, hit the switch for a few seconds and then emptied the contents into a glass which he deposited in front of me. Then he slithered out under a gap in the bar and took up a stool next to me. ‘Wonderful,’ he said, urging me with his hands to take a sip.
I did. It was delicious. ‘What is this?’ I said, holding up the glass to stare at the contents.
‘House special, the Dazzle cocktail. You like?’
‘I think I’m in love. Now tell me about your date.’
‘Well he’s H O T which is always a good start. And he’s a doctor.’
‘Wow, a hot doctor. I’ve been looking for one of them.’
‘I’ll keep my eyes out for you, but they’re rare.’
‘Maybe I should start hanging out around the emergency department.’
He let out a huge laugh, slapped me on the arm and then jumped off his stool. ‘Oops, got a customer.’
The club was starting to get busier, about half of the tables were now full. I sipped my cocktail and people watched, noting that most of the couples appeared to be same sex. This was probably not the place I was going to meet the future Mr Smith. Hey, who was I kidding, I wasn’t really looking for the future Mr Smith; I was looking for some fun.
The lights began to dim, the curtain rose, and I realised the show was starting. A long line of women were standing in a row, all of them tall and muscular. One of them moved to a microphone in the middle of the stage and started to sing; her deep voice soaring, her face melancholy. And then the music struck up, the song went from sad to cheerful and the rest of the women began to dance.
The show took my mind totally off work, but as soon as there was an interval, my thoughts returned to the scene in Ramy’s office. What on earth had I been thinking when I’d suggested the yellow ribbons? I mean I wasn’t serious obviously, but any idiot could see that the man had no sense of humour. I should have just shut up and taken it and then maybe I wouldn’t be doomed to spend the rest of my life working the front desk.
Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 01 - Cocoa and Chanel Page 8
