Evans to Betsy

from his father too. But it hadn’t done any good. His father had promised, over and over, that he would be careful and yet he had fallen in a hail of bullets one night, trying to intercept a drug transaction.

Evan hoped his mother had forgotten about the grand prix incident, but he didn’t think she would have. He’d have to remember not to mention the motorbike in their weekly phone conversations.

His new machine, with four others, was standing in the garage, next to a dismantled squad car. It didn’t look nearly as big or impressive as Evan had feared. It was a lightweight contraption with big, knobbly tires. He let out a sigh of relief.

A head poked out from under the squad car and Dai, the mechanic, emerged. “Hello, Constable. It’s Evans, isn’t it? Come for your bike then?”

“I just came to take a look at it today. I’m supposed to sign up for training before I’m allowed to ride it.”

“Oh, there’s nothing to it,” Dai said, grinning. “Any ten-year-old could ride this bike. It couldn’t go fast if it tried. Made for off road, really, like all the farmers have around here for rounding up their sheep. See the big tires. You’ll be able to take it up to the top of Snowdon if you’ve a mind to. Ever ridden one before?” Evan shook his head. “Go on then. Hop on and get a feel for it. I’ll run you through the basic controls. After that there’s nothing to it. You could take it out for a spin today if you wanted.”

Evan climbed onto the bike. It was small and compact, a pony not a race horse. “You switch on here,” Dai said, “and your throttle is there on your handlebar. Go on, try it.”

As the machine sputtered into life, Evan was conscious of two figures standing in the garage doorway.

“Would you take a look at that, Glynis?” Sergeant Watkins said, grinning to his partner. “It’s King of the Road. Don’t tell me that Hell’s Angels have invaded the motor pool.”

“Give it a break, Sarge.” Evan smiled, hastily switching off the engine and climbing off the bike. “Did you hear I’ve been assigned one of these things?”

“I heard something about it, yes,” Sergeant Watkins said. “Not a bad idea, really. You’ll be able to respond more quickly when some stupid Englishwoman drops her purse down a mountain, won’t you, boyo?”

“I think it looks like fun.” Glynis Davies, the young detective constable, gave him one of her dazzling smiles.

Not as much fun as doing your job, Evan thought. The job I applied for but you got. He tried to push the thought from his mind. He knew it wasn’t her fault that she’d received the promotion before him. She was smart and able; also a woman at a time when they’d been directed to hire more female detectives. But it still rankled.

“Are you allowed to carry passengers?” she asked.

“I’ve no idea what I’m allowed to do yet. I only heard about it a few minutes ago.”

“If you are, I’m first in line for a ride,” she said. She glanced across at Sergeant Watkins. “Have you heard the other news yet?” Evan thought he noticed Watkins give her a warning look, but she didn’t stop. “Our chief is taking early retirement.”

“The D.C.I.?”

“That’s right. And guess who is going to take his place?”

“Not D.I. Hughes?” Evan sounded incredulous. “You’re not serious. That man couldn’t detect a fried egg sitting on top of his toast.”

“He knows the right people,” Watkins said, “and he was the only choice, really, unless they brought someone across from Colwyn Bay.”

Evan nodded. Why should he worry? It wasn’t as if the change of power at the top of the plainclothes ladder affected him.

“So they’ll be doing without a D.I. then, will they?” he asked.

Watkins’s face turned bright red. It was the first time Evan had ever seen him blush.

“Sergeant Watkins is being sent for training,” Glynis said proudly. “He’s in line to be promoted to inspector.”

“That’s wonderful, Sarge,” Evan said, giving his hand a hearty shake. “Congratulations.”

“Let’s wait until it actually happens, shall we?” Watkins muttered. “With all these cost-cutting measures, they’ll probably decide they can’t afford to promote me.” He turned to Dai, the mechanic. “That’s why we’re down here. Cost-cutting measures again. They’re resurrecting old cars that should have been sent to the scrap heap years ago and we’ve been assigned this beauty. I take it it’s not going anywhere for a while, Dai?”

“You can say that again, Sergeant,” Dai said. “A proper mess, if you ask me. It’s going to cost them a fortune in new parts to get it back on the road. And you should see the rust in the chassis. You’ll be lucky if it doesn’t fall to pieces while you’re driving.”

“Thanks a lot. Very encouraging,” Watkins said. “Looks like we might have to ask Evans for a ride on the back of his motorbike after all.”

“You’re out of luck. I’m not taking it anywhere yet. I’ve got to sign up for training sessions first.”

“Training sessions?” Watkins chuckled. “What are they going to do—start you out with training wheels? Our Tiffany could ride that thing. You should have seen her at the go-cart track at Rhyl the other day. Proper little speed queen she is. Am I glad she can’t get her driving license until she’s eighteen!” He put a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “We might as well get a cup of tea in the cafeteria then. Coming, boyo?”

“All right, why not?” Evan left the workshop with them and crossed the wet parking lot.

“Isn’t it supposed to be your day off today?” Glynis asked him. “I was planning to come up to see you, but then I looked at the duty roster and saw you were off.”

“I was supposed to be, but the chief inspector called me down here to tell me the wonderful news in person.”