Im Tin Cans token PI, said Joe.
She laughed. He liked making her laugh.
In the car he said, You so tired, why dont you let your sister pick Desmond up?
Already she gives him his breakfast, drops him off at school. If Im not there to pick him up, hes going to start thinking Im his auntie, Lucys his ma.
At least you could duck the odd rehearsal till youre off nights.
She let out a gasp of mock horror.
You want Rev. Pot to nail me to his penitent stool? No, the singings no sweat. In fact, when I hear that music and open my mouth, its about the only time I stop feeling tired. Gives you a bigger hit than ganja, dont you feel that, Joe?
You wouldnt expect a clean-living boy to know anything about that, would you? said Joe.
This the same clean-living boy whos running around with the Mutant from Planet X?
Beryl, let me tell you about Galina
Joe, its OK, she said. Im only joking. Its none of my business. Just like whats mine is none of yours, OK? Thisll do.
Obediently he stopped the car and she was out of the door before he realized they werent at the Infirmarys main gate but at a side entrance which ran between the path labs and research blocks. Beyond these buildings she could either follow the service road to the main block or take a tree-shaded pathway which curved through the grounds to the nursing wards, cutting off several miles of corridor.
He didnt doubt which way shed go, and he didnt doubt which way Mirabelle would go if she heard hed let Beryl loose unaccompanied.
Hold on! cried Joe.
From beneath his seat he took a heavy steel spanner about a foot long, with tape bound around the handle to provide a firmer grip. This had been a present from Merv Golightly whose constant companion in his taxi was a monstrous lug wrench called Percy. The mere sight of Mervs lanky figure twirling Percy like a conductors baton was usually enough to subdue most troublemakers. In Joes line of business, a similar aid was very necessary, opined Merv, and Little Perce had been the result. Joe, who found violence either coming from him or aimed at him very scary, had never found occasion to use it. But there wasnt much point offering himself as Beryls defender if all his defence consisted of was warding off blows with his head.
Fearful of the womans ridicule, however, he took the precaution of slipping Little Perce up his jacket sleeve before pursuing her.
Joe, what are you doing here? she demanded as he caught up with her.
I promised Mirabelle Id see you safe, he panted, thinking maybe he should take up Mervs invitation to start working out with him at the Hoplite Health Club.
Now look, Joe, she said, beginning to sound angry, I can look after myself
You can, maybe, he interrupted. What about me? You want I should be more afraid of you than of Mirabelle?
She shook her head, laughing.
Joe, sometimes youre so down to earth, I cant see how you can bear to keep on playing this PI game. You must be able to see youre not cut out for it. Most of the time you make no money, so all youre doing being so-called self-employed is stopping your entitlement to benefit.
You think Id be better sitting on my butt, waiting for my giro? he said fiercely.
Could be. In any case, things are getting better, or so they keep telling us. Therell be jobs to go for
You taken a good look at me lately, girl? Jobs will come slow and Ill be way, way down the queue. Also, what do I want with another job so I can punch a clock for a few more years always wondering when itll punch back and tell me Im surplus to requirements again? Leastways, being my own boss, my so-called friends can tell me Im useless, but they cant dump me for it!
They strode on, each so deep in a confusion of feeling that they could probably have run a whole gauntlet of flashers without noticing. When they reached the buildings, Joe stopped and said, Ill be on my way now.
You still here, Joe? she said with a good affectation of surprise. Well, thanks for the lift.
Yeah, well, thats OK, said Joe, feeling both wretched and indignant. He turned to go but had only taken a few steps when she caught his arm.
Hey, dont I get a farewell kiss?
He aimed at her cheek. She gave him her lips, briefly but fully.
As she stepped away she said, Friends dont think youre useless, Joe. They just worry about you. Thats what friends are for. You fall out, then you kiss and make up.
Dont think Im quite made up yet, he said, moving towards her again.
She turned away, laughing.
Only way to get another kiss here is have a heart attack, Joe, she tossed over her shoulder.
Could be thats what Im doing, thought Joe, watching her go. The way her body moved beneath the blue and white skirt, sturdy was no longer the word that came to mind.
He wandered back beneath the arching trees, letting his fancy drift at will. No harm in thinking, was there? But he was no sadist, so why was his fancy making Beryl scream as he unbuttoned her uniform?
Suddenly he was out of his imagined embrace and back in the real black autumn night with a chill wind rustling the dead leaves at his feet and somewhere to the left of him where the darkness was deepest the tail end of a long scream fading away into the night.
Oh shoot! said Joe.
Then he was off running, he had no idea where. He just hoped that the sound of his approach might scare any attacker off. Ahead loomed a clump of trees, blacker lines against the blackness. He swerved to skirt them, then one of the black lines moved and hit him so hard in the stomach he collapsed on the grass retching.
A moment later he was dragged to his feet by his collar and a torch beam shone in his face.
Gotcha! said a voice. Hey, dont I know you?
There was something familiar about the voice an accent and in the light spilling back from his own face to his captors he made out just enough to trigger his memory.
Youre Fortons mate, he croaked. Sandy last night St Monkeys Joe Sixsmith
Thats right. Deano warned me about you but he didnt say you were into this!
Into what? gasped Joe. Ive just been up to the hospital one of the nurses
He made the mistake of gesturing with his arm in the direction of the hospital. There was a dull thud as Little Perce shot out of his sleeve and hit the ground.
And whats this? A prescription? demanded the constable, scooping it up. Sixsmith, youre nicked!
7
In The Lost Travellers Guide, a page and a half of Lutons ten-page entry is deservedly set aside for the Central Police Station. Designed by the same hand that conjured up St Monkeys, it is as much a monument to secular law as the church is to divine. No citizen can pass by that imposing façade without feeling the safer for it. No criminal can pass beneath that blue-lamped portico without feeling the sorrier for it.
Lutonians are proud of their police station, but it must be admitted it wouldnt have survived the bulldozing sixties if some foresighted councillor hadnt got it registered as a listed building. From time to time plans are still put forward to build a glass and concrete blockhouse on a few acres of green belt and turn the old building into a heritage centre or DIY supermarket or something. But the City Fathers, aware that cold, draughty and damp conditions produce a certain desirable cast of mind in crooks and cops alike, wisely refuse to be moved.
Lutonians are proud of their police station, but it must be admitted it wouldnt have survived the bulldozing sixties if some foresighted councillor hadnt got it registered as a listed building. From time to time plans are still put forward to build a glass and concrete blockhouse on a few acres of green belt and turn the old building into a heritage centre or DIY supermarket or something. But the City Fathers, aware that cold, draughty and damp conditions produce a certain desirable cast of mind in crooks and cops alike, wisely refuse to be moved.
Joe Sixsmith, as a good citizen, approved their wisdom. Seated in a barred-windowed, cracked-panelled, flaking-painted, musty-smelling interview room which not even the presence of a piece of hi-tech recording equipment could drag out of the Middle Ages, he felt ready to confess to anything.
What PC Sandy Mackay wanted him to confess to was being the Infirmary flasher. Joe was the young mans first significant collar and he was reluctant to let him go without a result. In this he was actively encouraged by Detective Sergeant Chivers who, though less deeply persuaded of Joes guilt in this particular instance, had a somewhat démodé belief that all things evened themselves out before the Great Chief Constable in the sky, and low lifes like Joe got away with so much that sending them down for anything was a kind of wild justice.
An hours hard questioning had reduced even Chiverss hoped for options.
Whatever happens, well do you for carrying an offensive weapon, he assured Joe.
Defensive, said Joe.
Offensive, said Chivers grimly. Thats what I reckon you are, Sixsmith. And thats what I reckon anything to do with you is.
The door opened. Willie Woodbines head appeared. He said, Sergeant, a word.
Chivers noted the suspension of the interview and the time on the tape and switched it off. Then he followed Woodbine out into the corridor.
The door which looked like it had been used as an interrogation aid in the unreconstructed past didnt fit properly and eased back open an inch. This was enough to permit Joe and PC Sandy to overhear what was being said.
What the chuffs going on in there? demanded Woodbine.
Chivers explained, or tried to.
Woodbine interrupted, This nurse who was flashed at tonight, the one who screamed, youve talked to her, I presume?
Yes, of course
And did she say it was a black man or a white man who did the flashing?
Well, it was pretty gloomy
Come on, Sergeant, shes a nurse. First thing they learn is to tell the difference between a black dick and a white dick. Which did she say it was?
White, she thought, but
And this nurse Sixsmith claims he was escorting to the wards, she confirms his story?
Yes, but shes his fancy woman, isnt she? Say anything to get him off the hook
Thats right. And do anything too, youd say? Well, Ill tell you what shes done, Sergeant. Shes rung that bitch Butcher, and that bitch Butchers rung me and demanded to know if were holding her client Joseph Sixsmith, and has he been arrested, and on what charge? And she says this isnt the first time her client has been harassed by my officers and this time shes going to see he sues the arse off us. And shes on her way now, Sergeant, and what am I going to tell her?
Well, theres always the offensive weapon, sir
Offensive weapon? Thats Joe Sixsmith youve got in there. You may not like the man, and maybe you ought to ask yourself why you dont like him, but please reassure me, youre not so far gone you dont know hes not violent! Offensive weapon? If you gave him a sub-machine gun, hed probably try to get Radio 2 on it! No, you want violence, you ought to listen to that bitch Butcher! Get out of my way!
The door swung fully open. Joe and Sandy whod been sitting looking at each other expressionlessly turned their heads to see Woodbine smiling down at them.
Joe, howve you been? Its good of you to help us out like this again. Sorry we had to put you in here while I was on my way, but I dont leave Chivers the key to the executive washroom, you with me? Come on upstairs now. Sergeant, rustle us up some coffee, will you? And I daresay I can find a drop of the Caledonian Cream to keep the cold out.
Two minutes later Joe found himself in a deep armchair in Woodbines office. Here the oak panelling shone with a deep sheen, the broad windows were covered with rich brocaded curtains, and the paintwork was as smooth and perfect as a models make-up.
Now, take me through it again, said Woodbine, putting on an expression of fascinated interest.
Er, through what, exactly? said Joe.
Through your very brave attempt to apprehend this weirdo whos been terrorizing those poor nurses, said Woodbine.
So Joe took him through it again. When he reached the point of his arrest, the superintendent sucked in his breath and said, Silly lad. But hes young, Joe. And Scottish. Youve got to make allowances. Ill see he apologizes. Some more Scotch? No? So hows life treating you, Joe? Anything I can help with, youve only got to ask.
Well, you could tell me about your wifes sex life, thought Joe. No, perhaps not. His eye ran over Woodbines untidy desk. There was a file open on it, and some photographs.
Joe said, That boy in the box at St Monkeys. Anything on him yet?
Whats your interest? said Woodbine sharply.
Well, I found him, didnt I? said Joe defensively.
The smile which had vanished from Woodbines face returned and he said, So you did. Cant stop running into trouble, can you, Joe?
Thought I wasnt in trouble, said Joe.
Of course youre not. As for the boy, cant tell you anything, sorry. Not my department really, not unless it turned out to be murder, which I doubt.
As he spoke, he swept the papers on his desk together and closed the file.
And Joe, though he couldnt be absolutely sure upside down, wondered why, if it wasnt Woodbines department, the super happened to have what looked very much like a photo of the dead boys face in front of him?
There was a tap at the door and Chiverss head appeared.
Miss Butcher to see you, sir, he said.
Butcher was only five-two and built like a Third World waif, but she came in like the Queens Champion at a trial by combat.
You OK, Joe? she asked. Superintendent, Id like a word alone with my client.
By all means, said Woodbine. Were finished here anyway. Thanks again for your help, Joe. By the way, Im having a little do Sunday lunchtime to celebrate my promotion, say thanks to everyone whos helped and encouraged me. It wouldnt be complete without you. Do try to make it, midday, very informal, bubbles and a bit of a buffet is what my good ladys got in mind. Do try to come.
He put his arm across Joes shoulders and urged him gently to the door.
Yeah, well, thanks a lot, Superintendent
Make it Willie on Sunday, eh? breathed Woodbine in his ear. Keep the formality for in front of the troops!
Yeah sure, said Joe. Willie on Sunday it is. Goodbye now.
As they walked down the ornate Victorian staircase, he said, Hey, thanks for coming.