by Ken Bruen
The guy took it said, ‘It’s a Lorus!’
‘A real Lorus, not a copy.’
‘Lorus is a piece of shit, worth a fiver tops.’
Brant said, ‘Here’s my lift, gotta go.’
He got in and as Roberts moved into traffic, he looked back. The guy was still staring at the Lorus.
Brant adjusted the watch and Roberts asked, ‘That a Tag?’
‘Yup.’
‘A fake though.’
‘No, it’s the biz. I’m as amazed as you are.’
As they proceeded, Brant continued to sneak glances at it. He was well pleased.
Roberts said, ‘Mr Logan has an office at Camberwell Green.’
‘Yeah, and what’s he floggin’?’
‘Real estate.’
‘Figures.’
They parked in Denmark Hill, walked down.
Brant said, ‘Like in the movies, good cop, bad cop.’
‘I hate that crap.’
‘Me too … so can I be the good guy?’
The office was busy. Three phones going in the outer. A receptionist asked, ‘Can I help?’
Brant showed the warrant card, said, ‘We need a moment of Mr Logan’s time.’
She sighed, truly pissed and said, ‘I dunno, we’re frightfully busy.’
Roberts said, ‘No prob. We’ll go and get more police and come barging back. How’d that be?’
She glared at Roberts, like she hated him, said, ‘Let me see.’ And strode into the back office.
Brant was looking at brochures, asked, ‘You live in Dulwich, guv?’
‘Yeah, me ’n’ Maggie Thatcher.’
Brant looked at the prices, whistled, said, ‘Jaysus, you can’t be hurting.’
The receptionist came back, said, ‘Mr Logan can spare you five minutes.’
Tommy rose to greet them. They both clocked the hurleys crossed above his desk. Brant flashed his card, said, ‘I’m DS Brant and this is my chief inspector.’
Tommy was affable, said, ‘Gentlemen … please … have a seat … some tea … coffee?’
‘No thanks.’
They didn’t sit. Brant asked, ‘Ever know a Tony Roberts?’
Tommy put his hand to his chin, like he was trying, said, ‘I remember a Tony Roberts in the early Woody Allen films.’
He pronounced it ‘fill-ums’ like an Irish broadcaster. Continued, ‘but I think he fell out with the Woodster and ended up in one of the Poltergeist things.’
He gave a little laugh, said, ‘I suppose you don’t mean him eh?’
Brant smiled, said to Roberts, ‘See all the stuff they learn in the nick, guv, all that time to kill?’
Tommy lost his affability. ‘Was there something else?’
Roberts was about to lose it when the door burst open. A woman was shouting, ‘Tommy, you asshole, you put a block on my account.’ Then saw he wasn’t alone, muttered, ‘Oh.’
Tommy did a little bow, said, ‘Gentlemen, my wife, Tina.’
She was five-foot-four-inches tall, thereabouts. A face almost too pretty. You got to thinking … What’s she like when all the make-up’s off? Still. A lush body and she knew it. Playing men was her best act.
She turned to face Roberts and went, ‘Oh my-God-sweet-Jesus!’
Tommy didn’t know what was happening, but it wasn’t good. He said, ‘So Teen, I’ll catch you later, here’s some cash, eh.’
Roberts played a hunch, asked, ‘What is it, I remind you of someone … that it? Do I look like Tony … Tony Roberts, my brother?’
Tommy couldn’t help it, said, ‘Yer brother? Yah never said.’
Brant smiled.
Tina said, ‘No, it’s a dizzy spell. I don’t know who you mean.’
Roberts pressed on. ‘You know what they did to him Tina? Took a stick.’
He spun round, pointed at the hurleys, continued, ‘Like one of those and systematically broke every bone in his body.’
Tina sobbed, ‘Leave me alone.’
Tommy went to grab Roberts arm, shouting, ‘That’s it.’
Roberts turned and grabbed him by the shirt, ripping buttons and pushed him over the desk, said, ‘Don’t put yer hands on me, yah piece of shit.’
Brant said, ‘Guv.’
Roberts straightened up, took a deep breath, said, ‘I’ll frigging have you.’
Tommy tried to fix his suit, looked at the shirt, whined, ‘Yah tore it. Eighty nicker and he rips it.’
Now he spoke to Brant, ‘I have juice … oh yeah … you don’t mess with Tommy Logan. I have connections.’
Brant said, ‘You’re going to need ’em pal.’
On their departure, Roberts said to Tina, ‘He’s going down, be smart and don’t go with him.’
Tommy slammed the door. He moved over to Tina, raising his fist, said, ‘Yah stupid cow.’
The ringing of the phones in the outer office couldn’t disguise the sound of the beating.
At their car, Roberts put a hand against the door, took a few deep breaths.
Brant said, ‘Just one question, guv.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Were you the good or bad cop back there?’
Fear to fear itself unfolding
Rosie couldn’t stop sobbing. Falls had her arm round her, didn’t know what to say, said, ‘I dunno what to say.’
‘Tell me I’ll be OK.’
‘You’ll be OK.’
Rosie gasped, said, ‘Jeez, put a bit of conviction in it. Lie to me for heaven’s sake.’
‘I’m a bad liar.’
Rosie held up her heavily bandaged hand, said, ‘It hurts so bad.’
‘Didn’t they give you anything?’
‘Two aspirin.’
‘Oh shit.’
Rosie went quiet, said, ‘He’s eighteen! God, I have shoes older than him!’
‘Maybe he isn’t HIV.’
‘It’s the waiting. The doctor said it could lie dormant for years. How am I gonna tell Jack?’
‘I said a dog did it. A mad dog … It was true, though, wasn’t it? I won’t be able to make love to Jack, I mean I couldn’t.’
Falls felt lost, tried ‘Maybe if a third-party told him? He’s a good man, he’ll support you.’
‘No … later he’d start to hate me. Think I should have been more careful.’
She started to cry again.
Falls hugged her, said, ‘You have to hang in here, it will be all right.’
Both wondered how on earth it could ever be that.
Evening song
Falls was on her eighth night of trawling. Jeez, she thought, this life of single bars and clubbin is boring. Every guy in south-east London with the same prized line: ‘Grab yer coat, you’ve pulled.’
At least the women had variety-‘Lemme apply yer lip gloss’ through ‘Same old pricks, hon, try something feminine.’ Like that. Earlier she’d vented on McDonald, ‘I hope you’re watching my back.’
‘Don’t you fret doll, you’re not supposed to see me.’
‘Well, I haven’t, not once.’
‘I’m there, count on it.’ But she didn’t.
Asked Brant, ‘Is McDonald reliable?’
‘No.’
‘Sarge?’
‘What?’
‘Gimme some encouragement.’
He handed her a canister, said, ‘Take CS gas, it’s encouraging.’
‘Isn’t it illegal?’
‘I doubt yer attacker will report it … though, nowadays…
Brant was quiet, then asked, ‘Would you carry a shooter?’
‘You’re joking … aren’t you?’ He gave her the look.
She took the CS gas.
Rosie was at home. Jack was working nights. She lined up twelve sleeping pills, all in a neat line. Took another hefty swig of the rum, the litre bottle going down. She was gently singing, ‘I like sailors cos sailors like rum and it sure does warm my tummy, tum, tum.’
Dressed in a worn pink dressing gown, it made her feel domestic, said
, ‘Now to pop two of those lads, there yah go.’
It was the best she’d felt in weeks, thought, Oh God, the note … the police hate it when there’s no note.
She got one of her special notelets, a Christmas present from Falls. They had a rose motif and along the top it read ‘Because Rose Cares’. She carefully cut that off. Then wrote the note quickly.
The bath was nearly full and she turned the tap off. It sure smelled wonderful. She’d put in patchouli oil and mandalay scent. The steam had obliterated the mirror. Not that she’d have looked. Considered very briefly as she popped more pills what the verdict would be. How many times had she heard ‘death by misadventure’? Well, she was a Mrs … could they put Mrs Adventure.
She had been so careful with the pills. Christ, the last thing she wanted was to throw up. The rum she’d mixed with blackcurrant cos it was her favourite. The bottle was empty. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I’m a greedy guts.’ No more pills either. A half remembered ditty from her childhood:
‘Now I lay me down to sleep
I ask The Lord
My hair to keep.’
No, that wasn’t right. She could feel her mind shutting down and took off the robe. Just before she got in the bath, she left the plastic bag on the side. The water was divine and she gave a shudder of pleasure, said, ‘Please remember, don’t forget.’ Reached for the plastic bag, ‘never leave the bathroom wet, Nor leave the soap still in the watta, That’s a thing you never oughta.’
Pan back from the bathroom and there, at the door, are her fluffy slippers, Snoopy dogs on the front. Pan further back into the living room and there’s the note. Reads:
‘I’m so sorry Jack.
I love you.’
As Rose ebbed away, Falls was leaving a club in Clapham, thought, This isn’t working, and walked quickly past a dark alley. Then stopped. It was a short cut but you’d never dream of taking it. Not at night. Thought, Girl, you have to start moving like a victim.
The alley looked extremely forbidding. She checked for the CS canister in her pocket, took a deep breath, muttered, ‘Oh shit, let’s go.’
Turned in.
Barry Lewis had nearly given up on this one. She’d always stuck to the bright side of the street. Was about to turn for home when the victim stopped. He couldn’t believe it! Was she going to risk the short cut? The endless stupidity of women! She took her time, debating. Under his breath, he urged, ‘Go on, go on yah black bitch, daddy’s waiting.’
It worked!
He began to quicken his pace, the adrenalin building to hyper.
Back at the club, McDonald clocked Falls leaving. He had just scored with a neat little number from Peckham and was comfortable. The girl said, ‘I’d love a harvey wallbanger.’
He’d been about to leave, shrugged and figured what could five minutes hurt. Turned to the girl, his smile electric said, ‘Yah go for wallbanging, eh?’
Falls was about half way down the alley when Lewis hit her. She barely heard the footsteps when a shoulder crashed into her, send her sprawling. Then he was kneeling on her back, tearing at her tights, muttering, ‘Gonna give it to yah doggy-style and then I’m going to turn you over, cut yer fucking throat.’
His weight was overwhelming. Falls tried to function … where was the gas? Then the weight was gone and she heard a crash. As she turned, Brant’s voice asked, ‘You OK, love?’
Lewis was hunched over, groaning.
Falls got shakily to her feet, asked, ‘How?’
‘Gotta watch out for our own.’
‘McDonald?’
‘No doubt keeping it warm.’
Brant picked up the knife, moved over to Lewis, said, ‘Let’s see what we got here.’
Lewis was recovering fast, said, ‘Big deal, you can’t prove nothing.’
Held out his gloved hands, added, ‘Can’t even prove the knife is mine.’
Brant said, ‘Me too.’
Showed his gloves. It confused Lewis and Falls. Brant was tapping the knife against his palm, said, ‘Worst scenario, you’d get two years, be out in six months. That how you figure?’
Lewis was nodding, looking at Brant, said, ‘Yeah, and then guess who I’ll come looking for.’
Brant said, ‘Wrong pal.’
Moved fast in front of Falls. She saw Brant’s hand go out, grab Lewis, pull him forward. A grunt, then a smothered scream. Brant pulled back and Lewis was on his knees, the knife embedded. Brant walked behind him, said, ‘Whoops, watch yer step,’ and kicked him full in the back.
Lewis went forward.
Falls said, ‘Oh sweet Jesus.’
Brant took out his Weights, lit one.
Falls noticed his hands were as steady as a rock. He bent down, checked for pulse. None.
Falls said, ‘I don’t believe this, you’ll never get away with it.’
Footsteps and McDonald came running, stopped, tried to assess the scene, asked, ‘What happened?’
Brant answered, ‘It’s the rapist. Fell on his knife during the struggle with Falls.’
‘Is he dead?’
‘As a doornail.’
Brant started to walk away, said, ‘You’d better call it in, I mean you are on this case.’
McDonald turned to Falls, asked, ‘Are you OK? I got delayed … I…
She spat in his face.
Fall out
Tina Logan emerged from the hairdressers. By sweeping her hair up and to the side, the bruising was mostly hidden. Her heart sank when she saw Roberts. He was leaning against his car.
‘Go away.’
‘Tina, Tina … give me five minutes.’
She pushed back her hair, said, ‘Look.’
‘Jesus!’
‘Yeah, so please … he’ll kill me.’
‘I just want to know about Tony, that’s all.’
She sighed, said, ‘Five minutes?’
‘Guaranteed, the clock’s already ticking.’
Got in the car. He asked, ‘Wanna go someplace, get a drink?
‘No, I want to get away from you.’
Reached in her bag, took out a pack of Marlboro Lights, said, ‘Jeez … Lights! If Tommy sees me, I won’t be worrying about cancer. They should put a health warning on men.’
She lit up, said, ‘I suppose this is a “smoke free zone”?’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
She gave him a full look, said, ‘Oh I won’t, you can be sure of that.’
Roberts had a hundred questions, didn’t know where to begin.
She did: ‘It was so corny. I dropped some packages and he helped me. Our eyes locked over a crushed M amp;S bag. I didn’t tell him who I was.
‘Tommy was on his way up and, being more crazy than usual, I started to meet Tony twice a week. He was gentle and where I’m coming from, that’s unheard of.
‘Funny too. I didn’t know men could get you laughing. Then when Tommy began to suspect, I tried to call it off.
‘But not really.
‘I couldn’t give him up. He was like … the beat of my heart. The rest you know. If you’re thinking would I ever say that in a court, forget it.
‘What was Tony to me? He made me feel special. Like, if I was reading The Sun, he wouldn’t look down his nose. Oh yeah, he loved Smokie.’
‘Smoking?’
She laughed, said, ‘No, Smokie, a pop group from the ’70s who kept on playing. Tony said they were the purest pop band … “Living Next Door To Alice”?’
Roberts shook his head and she seemed disappointed, said, ‘You probably listen to classical stuff. Tony said I was his Alice … corny eh?’
She was crying now, said, ‘Ah jeez, me eye make-up is ruined. They tell you it doesn’t run. Believe me, everything runs. Can I go?’
Roberts nodded, said, ‘Tina, I’ll get him.’
‘You probably believe that, but I doubt if you ever will.’ And she was gone.
When Falls met Brant at the station, she said, ‘We have to talk.’
‘Naw, I don
’t think so. You did all right-got a commendation. McDonald’s too smart to probe. He knows he was lucky.’
‘But it’s wrong.’
‘Gee, that’s a pity.’ And he strode off.
A few minutes later, the desk sergeant called her, said, ‘Phone, down the hall.’
She picked it up, said, ‘Hello?’
‘It’s Jack.’
‘Oh Jack, I am so sorry, I…
‘Yes, undoubtedly…
‘She was my best mate, Jack.’
A pause.
‘She expressed a certain fondness for you too. I would like you to do something for me.’
Perturbed by his tone, she was off balance, said, ‘Anything.’
‘Please inform your colleagues that we want no police at the funeral. No wreaths or vulgar flowers shaped like a helmet.’
‘OK, Jack, but her friends can surely attend as private mourners, I mean…
‘I most expressly forbid it.’
‘Oh … well, you’re upset.’
‘Don’t counsel me, lassie.’
‘I didn’t mean…
‘Good day to you.’ And he hung up.
Dazed, she stood with the phone in her hand, then thought, It’s good, good he can focus his grief, vent it and get it out.
Then she thought, The self-righteous prick. I’ll send the most vulgar display he’s ever seen … Yeah, fuck you too.
Powerful
Tommy Logan had gathered his men. He began, ‘Now lads… You could cut the Irish brogue with a shillelagh. He could have been speaking Swahili for all they cared. They were on a roll and cash was steaming in. Plus, they knew he was the last man on earth to fuck with.
He continued, ‘Ye’ll be familiar with informants. Or snitches, as they call them in this country. It seems the police have somebody doing the dirty on us.’
Raised his voice, ‘Play fair I say.’
It received the required laugh. ‘So now, I’ll put five large into the hand of the fellah who finds the snitch.’
An animated murmur. They liked the deal.
‘OK, then … go get ’im … oh, one more thing…
