Finally, he left. Morrissey ga/ed at a trout the size of a small dog. It stared back at her glassily, its mouth hanging open as if it might say something to her in a minute.
‘Can I help you?’
A receptionist.
‘A room,’ said Alison. ‘I have a room reserved. And I’m about ready to die unless I get to it soon.’
After she had showered and rested, she got out the files again. There w ere files on every member of the crew of Sugar Uncle Victor. Some, of course, were slimmer than others. The thickest
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was that on her grandfather, Pilot Officer Danny McTcague. But at the top of the pile, the one Alison Morrissey would look at first and read again tonight, was the file marked ‘Zygmunt Lukasz’.
Later in the morning, Ben Cooper discovered who was going to have to interview Eddie Kemp in connection with the double assault.
‘There isn’t anvbodv else,’ he was told. ‘Thev’re all out.’ Kemp looked almost pleased to see him. He seemed to feel they had struck up a close friendship waiting at the side of Hollowgate, as if a fiond had been forged between them hy performing a hit of early-morning street theatre for the customers of the Starlight Cafe. Cooper wasn’t sure how long the theatre would have lasted, without turning into a tragedy,
<? C) ^
if it hadn’t been for the appearance of Sonnv Patel and his two oldest sons, brandishing brushes and shovels. They had made a great ceremony of sweeping the pavement clear of snow, until the three men leaning against their plate-glass window had shuffled their feet and moved on.
‘The tea’s not bad here,’ said Kemp. ‘But they’re going to have to turn the blecdin’ music off. It’s doing my head in.’
Cooper and the PC accompanying him tried to keep their distance from the table, so they could breathe more easily. With the triple tape deck running and the duty solicitor sitting alongside Kemp, they took him through the events that had led to the injuries to the two young men at Underbank in the earlv hours of that morning. Kemp made no attempt to denv that he had been involved, but insisted that he had been assaulted first and had acted in self-defence.
‘That old one,’ said Cooper.
‘They’re known villains,’ said Kemp. ‘They’re dealers off the estates.’
‘And you say they attacked you first?’
‘Yes.”
‘When you arrived here, you were given the opportunity to see a doctor. You didn’t report any injuries.’
‘Well, t know how to handle mvself,’ said Kemp.
Now that Eddie Kemp wasn’t wearing his Manchester United
43
hat, Cooper could see that his hair was dark and wiry. lie had the beginnings of a moustache, something more than a case of not having shaved this morning.
‘Who were the other men who took part in this incident?’ asked Cooper.
‘No idea.’
‘Complete strangers?’
‘I reckon they were just passing and came to help,’ said Kemp. ‘Good Samaritans, if you like.’
‘Who had the baseball bat?’
‘Baseball bat? I didn’t see that.’
‘A snooker cue, maybe.’
‘Dunno. Perhaps those lads that came to help me had been playing snooker at the club.’
Eddie Kcmp looked at the solicitor and smiled happily. Kemp was experienced enough to know that witness identification was rarely sufficient in itself for a prosecution to go forward. Among a group of six men, it would have been impossible to say who had done what. And it had been at night, too. He was quite safe, for now.
‘The victims were seriously injured, you know.’
‘They deserved it,’ said Kemp. ‘They’re scum. We don’t want them coming around Underbank. We don’t want them getting our kids involved in hard drugs. If a beating keeps them away, that’s a good thing. Your lot can’t seem to do anything about them, anyway.’
‘Assault is still a crime, Eddie, no matter who the victims are.’
‘There’s a crime, and then there’s justice.’
‘Which one is this, in your view?’
‘I reckon it could be both at once.’
‘Well, aren’t you the philosopher then?’ said Cooper impatiently. ‘Two contradictory ideas in your head at the same time.’
Kemp nodded. ‘You’re right. Only I don’t think they’re contradictory. Not always.’
Diane Fry and Gavin Murfin finally blew in through the door of the CID room like Santa Claus and one of his elves. Their
44
clothes were plastered with patches of snow and their (aces were bright pink.
‘Ah, Ben, at last,’ said Fry, heating her hands together.
‘I’ve been here all morning.’
‘Got much done?’
