The McDead

Then he walked to the side, pulled the fire extinguisher from its bracket, strolled back, muttering, ‘Point the noozle where?’ Opened it up, shouting, ‘Go on, get outta it.’ Drenching the couple and literally spraying them to the street. A round of applause from the staff. He nodded to Sarah, said, ‘That’s about it I’d say.’ And walked out.

Sarah followed, trying to unsuccessfully clean the uniform with wafer thin napkins. She looked at the soaked couple, asked Brant, ‘Aren’t we taking them in?’

‘Do you want to put them in the car?’

She got in beside Brant and he said, ‘Open the window love, vomit will linger.’ And he put the car in gear.

Back at the station, she rushed to the bathroom, was attempting to clean up when Falls walked in. She’d heard about the black WPC, said, ‘I’m new.’

‘Oh really?’

She looked in the mirror, wanted to bawl. Falls looked at the soiled tunic said, ‘You’ve already met DS Brant.’

Sarah smiled, felt it was an overture, went for it. ‘I’m sorry about your friend.’

‘Why … did you know her?’

‘No … but …

‘Then ration your grief, you’ll be getting plenty.’

Sarah couldn’t help it, babbled on: ‘I mean, I know I can never replace her and…

Falls cut it short, said, ‘You got that right.’

And left her.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Brant was waiting. Sarah felt she already hated him. ‘There you are love, c’mon I’ll get a tea.’ And she warmed to him again.

In the canteen, he said, ‘Get us a tea, two sugars, I’ll grab a table.’

Sarah looked round, every table was vacant. She got the teas and the canteen lady said, ‘You’re the new girl?’

Oh, Jesus.

‘Never you mind, pet, the teas are on me.’

Not a grand gesture, just a moment of kindness and Sarah wanted to hug her. The woman nodded at Brant, said, ‘Watch that ’un, he’s an animal.’

Brought the teas over and Brant asked, ‘No biccies?’

‘Oh.’

‘Never mind but you’ll know next time. I’m partial to the club milks.’

She said, ‘Could I ask you something?’

‘As long as it’s not for cash, if s a bit early.’

‘Oh Good Lord no. It’s about my predecessor.’

‘Rosie?’

‘Yes. I know I’ve no right but … what was she like?’

‘A loser.’

She was shocked and maybe a tad relieved. Brant finished his tea, said, ‘Yeah, she got to pull the ultimate sulk you know-na-na-na-na-na-you can’t catch me, like never. Everybody gets to feel guilty and she’s outta here.’

Sarah thought a defence of some calibre should be shown, said, ‘But if her state of mind was disturbed?’

He stood up, his closing words, ‘She was a cop, yer mind is always disturbed, otherwise we’d be social workers.’

The Super’s wife was a dowager. Leastways, she looked like one. She was never young but, when she got seriously aged, she’d be Barbara Cartland, or Windsor, or both.

Her home was in Streatham Vale but she was a Belgravia wannabe and managed to mention said place in every conversation. Her car broke down near the Oval and she had to abandon it. Walking down towards the cricket ground, she was in fear of her life. Her husband did bring his work home.

She saw a black cab. Oh merciful God! A man stepped up beside her and grabbed her arm, pinned it under his and neatly removed her Cartier watch, shoved her back, said, ‘You can ’av this piece o’ shit,’ and slung a Lorus at her.

Brant, on being told by Roberts, said, ‘I love it.’

‘The Super’s on some warpath.’

‘Even better, I know how to solve it.’

‘You’re kidding, unless…

‘What?’

‘You mugged her!’

‘Close, but no. So, who do we want to do well?’

‘Let’s give it to the new kid, see how she cooks.’

‘The Yid it is.’

Brant caught up with Sarah later in the day. He said, ‘Apprehend me.’

‘What?’ She hoped it wasn’t sexual.

‘During your training, didn’t they show you how to arrest someone?’

‘Yes.’

‘OK, then. Picture this. I’m a suspect standing at … let’s say, the Oval station … OK?’

‘OK.’

‘So arrest me.’

‘What have you done? Oh, I’m sorry, what have you allegedly done.’

‘For Christ’s sake, what does it matter?’

‘I want to be prepared.’

‘Oh, I get it, you’re a method police person.’

She nearly laughed but stuck to her guns … ‘Sarge, it’s the degree of force. I don’t want to club you to the ground if it’s only a parking ticket.’

Brant smiled. ‘Good point, though personally I prefer the clubbing method regardless. Let’s say I’m a mugger.’

‘A what?’

‘Christ, a bloody… And next thing he knew he was flat on his face, his hands held behind him.

She said, ‘See, I distracted you.’

‘I’m impressed … where’d you learn that.’

‘Girls’ boarding school.’

‘My favourite. You can let me up now, I think you’ve got the hang of it.’

Brant was impressed. The girl had some moves and would be worth cultivating. She and Brant drove to the Oval the next day. Parked opposite the entrance, she asked, ‘Why are we here?’

‘You’ll see.’

After an hour, the man appeared, took up his habitual position. Brant said, ‘See ’im?’

‘Yes.’

‘Go get him.’

‘Arrest him?’

‘As if you meant it.’

Brant watched her go. The kid was a definite comer and not bad looking. Nice legs. He saw her approach the man, then bingo, she had his arm behind his back, marched him to the car. Brant got the door open and pulled him in the back, said to Sarah, ‘You drive.’ The man was protesting … ‘I didn’t do nuffink … hey … wait a mo’ … I know you!’

Brant grabbed the man’s testicles, squeezed, said, ‘Repeat please: I never saw you before.’