You Little Mike?
The man behind the counter looked up, squinted, then pulled on a pair of small round glasses. I am indeed, young sir, welcome to my emporium of delight. He swept a chubby hand from left to right, indicating his second-hand wares. How may we assist you this drizzly September evening?
The door made its bleep-blonk noise again and Franklin appeared, as if by magic. Are you not finished yet?
Ah, I see. Little Mike smiled like an indulgent parent. Then he folded his paper and moved it off to one side, revealing the glass countertop. A collection of rings and watches sparkled against dusty purple velvet. An engagement ring for the lady, perhaps?
Franklin stiffened. What?
Definitely not! Warmth bloomed in Callums ears. Someone tried to use my credit and debit cards in here today. You destroyed them.
Definitely not! Warmth bloomed in Callums ears. Someone tried to use my credit and debit cards in here today. You destroyed them.
He sighed. A shame. You make such a lovely couple. A finger poked the glass. Are you sure I cant tempt you?
Did they leave my wallet behind?
Or, how about this? He grabbed something from beneath the counter and stuck it on his head then went back and fiddled a clip-on bow tie into place. See? Its a fez and bow tie. You can dress up like Doctor Who, for parties. Isnt that fun?
Have you got my wallet?
No? Ah well. He covered the glass top with his newspaper again. The young lady and gentleman concerned did have a wallet with them. A rather tatty affair, with the lining hanging out.
Oh thank God. Thats it! Thats the one.
I see... Well, perhaps I can help. He disappeared through a door in the back.
Franklin picked the urn from its shelf. Who pawns their mothers ashes?
Here we are. Little Mike was back, holding a shoebox. He set it down on the countertop and pulled out a couple of wallets. Real leather, look at that stitching, have you ever seen anything so magnificent?
What? No. I dont want another wallet, I want the one those little sods stole from me!
A pained smile. Im sorry, the young lady and gentleman only handed over the cards, not the wallet. But I can do you a very good deal on a new one if His eyes went wide behind the little round glasses and he bustled out into the shop. If I may? He held his hands out in front of Franklin.
She gave him the urn.
Thank you. Mr May would be most distressed if I allowed his mother to leave the shop without him. Little Mike polished a speck of dust from the urn with a hanky, then returned it to its shelf. Now, is there anything else I can interest you in, while youre here? An electric guitar, perhaps? Or how about the sensual delight that comes with an electric foot spa?
Callum held out his hand. Where are the bits of credit card?
Ah, of course. You wish to make sure I havent indulged in anything illicit. Quite proper. He pulled out a carrier bag and tipped the contents of his wastepaper basket into it. Dont worry: as its loose items, I dont have to charge you for the bag. Now, if I cant tempt you with my esoteric pre-loved wares, I think I might close up for the night. So, if you dont mind...? He swept a hand towards the door.
They shuffled through the maze to the exit.
Callum stopped with one hand on the handle. Frowned back into the shop. The building society said they were trying to redeem something when you cut up the cards.
That is correct, yes.
What?
One of Little Mikes eyebrows made a break for freedom. Ah... Im afraid I cant
If youre about to invoke pawnbroker-client confidentiality, dont bother. What did they try to redeem?
Very well. He shook his head, then turned and led them back through the stacks and display cases to a collection of brightly coloured plastic. Items F-twenty-three to F-forty-six.
There was a sandpit, a collection of squeaky toys that looked as if they belonged in a bath, a Wendy house, a kids tricycle far too small for either of the little monsters to ride. An off-grey teddy bear with only one ear, scuffed button eyes, and stuffing poking out of his side. There were other bits and pieces, but nothing suitable for anyone over the age of three.
Franklin gave Little Mike one of her finest scowls. You pawn wee kids toys?
He sighed. Some people, this is all they have. If they cant pay their bills, their rent, if they cant buy food for their children, what do they do? You want them to go to loan sharks?
Theyre kids toys.
I know. But what can I do, turn them away hungry? Let them get thrown out on the street? So I pawn their childrens toys, and I know theyll never come back and redeem them, and I know theyre worthless, but I do what I can. He took off his glasses and polished them on the frayed edge of his shirt. This is what real life looks like from down here at the bottom, officers. Foodbanks and pawnshops. Who else is going to help these people?
Callum frowned down at the collection of plastic tat.
A hand on his arm. Come on, we need to get that murder board done.
He puffed out his cheeks. How much to redeem the toys? And Ill need their address.
10
Callum stuffed the multicoloured rocking-horse-shaped-like-a-fish thing in the boot with all the other toys. Closed the lid. Turned and leaned back against the car.
Little Mike rattled down the grille over his pawnshops front door. Wrestled a thick padlock into position. Then turned and lumbered away into the evening.
A shaft of sunlight broke through the heavy cloud, the low beam of golden light pulling a rainbow from the drizzle. Making the graffiti-wreathed shopping centre shine.
The cars horn blared.
Right.
Callum peered in through the rear window and there was Franklin peering back at him, reaching over from the passenger seat to lean on the horn again.
Mouthing the words, Hurry up!
Funny how some people could start off looking extremely pretty, only to get less and less attractive the more time you had to spend with them. At this rate, by the end of the week, Detective Constable Franklin was going to resemble the underside of Quasimodos armpit.
He sighed and climbed in behind the wheel. Cranked the engine. Weve got plenty of time.
She checked her watch. DS McAdams said an hour and a half, thirty minutes ago. Were, what, twenty minutes from DHQ. That leaves
Plenty of time. He navigated his way through the potholes and back onto the road. Just got a little stop to make on the way.
Gods sake!
Its on the way. Wont take five, ten minutes tops.
Gah! She swivelled in her seat to give him the full-on glower. Ive just started with this team and I am not going to let you screw it up for me.
Seriously? Left at the junction, onto McGilvray Place with its boarded-up terrace and abandoned building site just foundations and pipes sticking out of the ground to mark the death throes of the local construction industry. What happened to, Im not wasting my career with you losers? Thought you wanted nothing to do with us.
Lets get something straight, Constable, Im out of here first chance I get. But until then, Im going to do the job. Properly. Not whatever half-arsed version of it you think you can get away with.
Itll take five minutes. A right, onto Munro Place, taking the car up the hill. Then well hit Division HQ and Ill do the murder board, OK? And you can feel free to clype on me anytime you like. After all, it wasnt as if Mother or McAdams could hate him more than they already did.
He slowed for a moment next to the rusty Volkswagen, where Dugdale had deployed The Claw, then over the crest of the hill and down the other side.
Left at the bottom.
Callum checked the slip of paper with LITTLE MIKES PAWNSHOP ~ PRE-LOVED GOODS & PERSONAL FINANCE SOLUTIONS in flowery script along the top and, BROWN: 45B MANSON AVE. scrawled beneath it in biro.
Number 45 was on the outside edge of a set of five identical squashed grey council-issue boxes. Each one semidetached, split down the middle A on the left, B on the right ten homes per block. Someone probably thought arranging them into wee groups like that would foster a sense of community pride and spirit. It hadnt. A ruptured sofa sat outside the house next door. The one beyond that had a washing machine as a garden ornament, the porthole door open to show a collection of crumpled lager tins. Knee-high weeds from the front door to the garden wall.
Callum parked out front. Hauled on the handbrake. Five minutes. You can use the time to compose your formal complaint about me.
She just scowled at him.
He slipped out of the car, turned and stuck his head in again. One of these days, the winds going to change. Then clunked the door shut and marched off before she could say anything back.
The garden gate was rusted solid, so he hopped over it onto a path of cracked paving slabs with grass growing in off-green Mohicans between them.
No doorbell.
He gave the chipped wood three loud hard knocks.
The light was on in the living room, shining through a pair of lace curtains. Shadows moved about inside.
Another three knocks.
And a voice came from the other side of the door. Young, female. Go away.
Mrs Brown?
If youre from the bailiffs, you can sod off. I dont have to open the door!
Its not the bailiffs, its the police. He held his warrant card up to the spyhole. See?
A groan. Then something thunked against the door at head height. He doesnt live here, OK? I kicked him out six weeks ago.
Callum put his warrant card away. Who doesnt live here?
Franklin was checking her watch, making a big pantomime of pointing at the thing and then pointing at him.
Go away.
Ive got some stuff for you, OK?
Im not in.
Why bother?
Callum marched back to the car, popped open the boot and hauled out an armful of kids plastic toys. Dumped them just over the garden wall and went back for another load. Adding to the pile until the boot was empty.
The last thing was the raggedy teddy bear, with its missing ear and herniated stuffing. Plastic tat was one thing, a well-loved teddy bear was another. No way it was getting dumped in the weed-ridden grass.
He returned to the front door. Knocked. Held Teddy up to the spyhole.
Some muttered conversation inside, then the door opened a crack, the chain glinting in the hall light. A thin face peered out at him, blonde hair pulled back tight. She didnt look old enough to leave school, let alone have two small kids. There was a huge bruise on her cheek, dark and angry against the pale skin. She blinked at the bear. Mr Lumpylump?