This is how the call came in.
‘Hello, is that the police?’
The desk sergeant, weary after an all-nighter, answered, ‘Yeah, can I help?’ Not that he had a notion of so doing.
‘I’m about to eat my breakfast.’
‘How fascinating.’
‘When I’ve finished, I’ll wash up, and then I’m going to kill my old man.’
‘Why’s that then?’
‘He molested me till I was twelve. Now I think he’s going to start on my little brother …
The sergeant was distracted by a drunk being manhandled by two young coppers. At the pitch of his lungs, he was singing: ‘The sash my father wore … No big deal in that, unless you noted the man was black. Thus perhaps giving credence to the expression ‘a black protestant’ or not.
When the sergeant got back to the call, he couldn’t hear anyone on the line. Testily he repeated, ‘Hello … yello?’
Then two shots rang clearly down the receiver and he knew, without thinking:
Shot gun — 12 gauge — double o cartridges
and muttered,
A homeless person with a grubby T-shirt proclaimed, ‘Jesus loves black and white but prefers Johnny Walker,’ and touched Fiona Roberts on the arm. She jumped a foot off the ground thinking: ‘They’ve even reached Dulwich’.
He said, ‘Chill out, babe.’ Even the displaced were going mid-Atlantic.
She ran. No dignity. No finesse. Out ’n’ out legged it.
Inside her home she said aloud, ‘I know! I’ll never go out again — that’ll do it.’ And received a second jump when her daughter Sharon approached suddenly. ‘Christ, Sharon, don’t do that — sneaking up on a person.’
‘Get real, Mom.’
Fiona thought: ‘A nice cup o’ tea, that will restore me,’ and went to prepare it. She glanced in at the blaring TV. Regis and Kathy Lee were discussing manicures for dogs.
‘Sharon …
The girl threw her eyes to heaven and sighed, ‘You wouldn’t understand.’
‘What? … What’s to understand? Tell me!’
Chewing on her bottom lip, the girl said, ‘Cos yer
Fiona scratched the tea and headed upstairs for a Valium — a whole shitpile of mother’s little helpers … sorry,
When Charlie Kray, brother of the twins, tried to flog cocaine, three of his customers turned out to be undercover cops. A true sting. Over seventy, Charlie was found guilty, despite his own lawyer calling him a pathetic case. Who Charlie called was Bill. Like this.
‘Bill?’
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s Charlie.’
‘Hi, son, I’m sorry about yer bit o’ grief.’
‘They set me up Bill.’
‘I know, they put you right in the frame.’
‘You know me, Bill — I ’ate drugs.’
‘We wouldn’t be ’aving this chat if it were otherwise.’
‘Thanks, Bill. Reggie always said you were the bollocks.’
‘Was there somefing, Charlie?’
‘Is there owt you can do for us, mate? I go in, it’s life … at my age.’
‘Wish I could, son but it’s solid. You’re going down, but I can ’ave a word, make it cushy as possible.’
A pause. Defeat hanging full, then resignation.
‘Yeah, righto Bill … Will you look out for my old girl?’
‘Course, you don’t ’ave to ask.’
‘Maybe you’ll get up my way, bring us in a bit o’ cheer.’
‘Course I will, soon as.’
But he never did. Bill wasn’t a visitor and in this case he didn’t even send the help.
That book was writ.
When Roberts had proposed to Fiona, her family had raised huge objections. Roberts had told his own father of their view. His father, a man of few words, said, ‘They’re right.’
‘What — you think I’m not good enough for her?’
‘I wasn’t thinking about you. As usual you’ve got it backwards.’
Roberts was pleased, then said, ‘They’ve money.’
‘Ah! … Well, perhaps you have class. Now it’s possible we’ll get money, whereas …
He figured he’d call on Brant, maybe even talk about Fiona. But probably not. Brant’s door was open and Roberts thought ‘Uh-oh.’
Brant was sitting on the couch watching TV. Two bananas were coming down the stairs and singing.
Roberts said, ‘What the hell are yah watching?’
‘It’s
He turned round to stare at Roberts, who said, ‘The door was open … I …
‘Hey, no sweat. Everybody else just walks in.’
‘You had a visit?’
‘Yeah, a villain with a message. Next, he’ll have a chat show.’
Roberts moved in closer. ‘Are you all right? Any damage?’
‘Any damage. Hmm … he wanted to boil me bollocks and I speak not metaphorically here.’
‘Jesus.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Can I get you anyfin’?’
Brant looked at the mug he was holding, said, ‘It’s tea.’
‘Another?’
‘Two sugs, Guv. It’s them triangle jobs — and you know what? — they
Roberts went to the kitchen and marvelled at the mess. Like squatters had staged a demo there. Brant shouted, ‘Heat the cups.’
‘Yeah, right.’
Once the tea was squared away, Roberts sat. ‘You want to tell me what’s going down?’
‘Bill Preston.’
‘Tell me you’re winding me up. You haven’t been sniffin’ round in
‘Let ’im run riot, that it?’
‘They’re building a case, it takes time.’
‘Bollocks.’
‘C’mon, Tom, the softly-softly approach will bring him in finally.’
‘So meanwhile, we sit back and play with ourselves.’
‘Shit! You started pushing him!’
‘A bit.’
‘And you got a visit. Who’d he send?’
