by Nick James
‘The chairman has agreed to rent it to you long-term, for the same price as you are paying for your current home,’ said Mike.
Mike and I both flinched as a high-pitched squeal came from the desk area. I have never in my life heard such a noise come from Bunny’s mouth before. Unless, of course, we were making love, then it happened all the time… Shut up, my book!
It wasn’t long until we were in a cab fighting with the weekend traffic towards our possible new home. The highlight of the trip was seeing my nemesis slogging through the soaking London street: the tone-deaf bastard busker from the tube. I was chided by Bunny for rolling down the window and shouting, ‘You song-killing twat!’ at the music mutilator, but I did see my boss smirking. Oscar Wilde I am not, but I thought it was funny.
‘Mike, do these places allow pets?’ I received a confused look from my boxer-stealing and killer girlfriend. I must work very hard not to vocalise many of my thoughts, but, then again, talk to me at your own risk.
He turned back. ‘Nothing too large. What were you thinking of?’
‘We have a fish,’ Bunny said dryly with a smile.
Mike laughed. ‘You’ll be okay with a fish, I think.’ He saw me frown. ‘Don’t you like him, Sam?’
I shrugged. ‘He was no good last night – just bloody watched,’ I growled, and was then elbowed in the ribs. ‘Well, at least a dog could’ve warned us. What did Fred do? Fuck all.’
My boss was chuckling away as we bickered about the pros and cons of owning a ‘guard fish’. I gave in when she gave my eggs of love a flick, which made me very emotional. I had tears running down my cheeks. I did miss my boxers.
We arrived at the block. I must admit it was nice, just seemed to lack a bit of character; well, drug dealers and burning cars really. The outside was covered in light brick and steel. Every flat had a small balcony – well, the pigeons have to shit somewhere, don’t they? And I kid you not it had security: a keypad, with real numbers, not just one button which sparked in the rain. This place was starting to grow on me. But the thing that sold it to me was the lift. I almost wept. It was clean – and I don’t mean the urine had dried – no, I mean really clean and it banged out tunes as well. I sang along to The Specials who were upset about clubs closing down in a ghost town. I think my boss and girlfriend were rethinking their professional and emotional relationships with me.
Anyway, we looked at all three flats, which were all about the same: two bedrooms, large lounge and a kitchen-diner. Bunny was vibrating with happiness. The only decision to be made was which floor. The ninth, tenth or twelfth out of fifteen. The view from the twelfth floor was sublime; we were sold on it.
Within twenty minutes the lease was checked, signed and the keys were in our hands. Mike left, leaving us to make some really painful carpet burns on our knees and elbows, but it was totally worth it as we limped to the tube station and back to last night’s crime scene.
Both Bunny and I were given the week off work. But, as Mike requested, I had to pop into the office on Monday so the bosses could bathe in their generosity of the flat, which they had agreed to give us rent-free for two months so we could furnish the place properly. Oh, and Mike bought Fred a bigger tank. Piss-taking shit.
I talked to the team for a bit and received a big chesty hug from Emily and a way too close and uncomfortable hug from Mark Wayward. It’s just his way – still, boundaries, buddy. Oh, and my boss, Richard, asked me to stop sending him little toy spaceships. I thought he liked UFOs.
Then my mobile phone rang. I moved away from my colleagues. It was a female Detective that I didn’t know. She explained that they had a few more questions for me. I didn’t catch her name as my mind was too busy envisaging dental plyers and my nuts in an office drawer while Police shouted at me ‘why did you do it?’. I hung up ‘mother fuckers’ I commented, seeing everyone in the room turn around. So, I explained in choice words that I was called down to the station for a brief chat. I don’t know where he got it from, but Mark handed over a jar of Vaseline, ‘just in case’ he said. I swear that man is fucked in the head. I bid them farewell and headed out towards my possible doom.
As I entered Barking Police Station, I realised how much being in custody had changed me and what the boys in Shawshank must have felt like. ‘Get busy living or get busy dying,’ I muttered as the automated door slid open. Gasp. Was I Jedi?
It made a nice change to be walking through the front door of the police station. A short, bubbly woman, with what looked like an explosion of blonde hair on her head, smiled.
‘Ah, right on time, Mr Blades. Thank you for coming in,’ she said happily and shook my hand. ‘My name is Detective Constable Dawson, but you can call me Debbie.’ She proceeded to lead me down a colourless corridor with green flooring.
My feelings were confused at this point. Firstly, her initials were DD, and thanks to her tight shirt I could determine that this was indeed accurate, so I was fighting the urge not to call her just by said initials. Secondly, her bottom was bouncing in a hypnotic way, which made me feel sleepy. Lastly, because of the green flooring, and my time as a criminal, my mind made me look for a little mouse called Mr Jingles. I shook my head and decided that maybe I watch too many films.
‘Hi, Debbie,’ I replied. ‘I didn’t mind coming back in. I just want this whole thing cleared up, once and for all,’ and followed her bottom into the same interview room I was taken to last time. Ah, the memories.
She smiled again, which was starting to freak me out – nobody likes me that much. ‘That’s good. That’s all we want, too,’ Debbie said and offered me a seat. ‘Tea? Coffee?’
‘Torture is it now? Nah, I’ve tried your tea before, but thanks,’ I replied with a laugh while we took our places in the interview room.
DD laughed, making things jiggle like a flesh tsunami. I wondered if she was related to Emily from work.
‘We just have to wait for my colleague,’ she explained. Just then, the door opened.
I looked up and sighed. ‘Ah, Detective Constable Peterson. A pleasure to see you again, long time no see,’ I said in light tones, trying to hide my real feelings about the long streak of piss.
He just nodded and sat down barely even looking at me, which brought a frown from Miss Bubbly. ‘Thank you for coming in again, sir. We just need a few more questions answered.’
I shrugged. ‘Only happy to help,’ I said, to which he nodded. ‘Unless it’s about maths. I am balls at that.’ This brought a snort from DD.
The long streak of piss didn’t seem to enjoy my witty banter. His face flushed and he was grinding his teeth.
‘Then, we are in luck. It’s about the murdered man we found in your flat,’ Peterson retorted coldly.
That’s when I leaned forward. ‘You didn’t find him. We phoned you, after he tried to kill me,’ I fired at him before adding ‘keep that tone up, mate, and I’ll have my lawyer here and you’ll be writing “no comment”, a lot’.
‘That’s what my colleague meant, Sam,’ Debbie interjected, trying to calm the situation while glancing at the dickhead. ‘We just need clarification about what happened to the body. It seemed to have sustained a lot of injuries post-mortem. Can you explain that?’
I kept my eyes on the beanpole. ‘Yes, Debbie, that is an easy question to answer, when asked nicely and respectfully,’ I said, then I saw a twitch in my nemesis’s eye.
‘Thank you. So, what happened?’ she asked, her silver pen poised and glinting like that damned sword.
‘Well, Debbie, it’s quite easily really. I lost my shit and decided to make him lose his,’ I explained, turning towards the friendlier of the two DCs.
‘What do you mean by that, Mr Blades?’ Peterson asked quickly without looking up.
I rolled my eyes and huffed. ‘I kicked the shit out of him!’
‘Why?’ he snapped.
‘He tried to kill me, and it was Friday night, and he abused my pet fish,’ I said coldly. ‘Hardly John Wick – but, still, a pet
is a pet.’ Thank you, Keanu.
They both made notes in their files. ‘So, you admit to beating the corpse of the victim?’ Peterson pushed.
‘No, I beat the corpse of an intruder and attempted murderer,’ I said, looking at Debbie. ‘I think we are done here. Any more questions, you can call my lawyer.’ I stood up and walked out with an apologetic DC Dawson at my heels. I hated Peterson. Somehow, I think a male stripper is in his future at a family meal.
As we stood in the entrance to the nick, Debbie apologised but thanked me again for coming in and said that it should help to close the case quicker. I was ready for a drink, so I bid Emily’s bustier twin goodbye and headed to the closest pub.
When I finally got home after some nerve-settling beer, Bunny had taken a call from DD apologising for her colleague. She also advised that Peterson was meant to tell me that we could have our sword back, as the higher-ups were happy with closing the case as self-defence, but it had to be put in a sealed showcase.
Sharon and Bethany popped over for a cuppa and to look around the new flat. But for some reason Sharon or Stoney, which was the nickname I came up with after I first saw her on that fateful night – she didn’t help by crossing her legs while wearing a white skirt. I couldn’t help it; after all, it is my ‘basic instinct’ to have fun. Anyway, I digress, Stoney purposely always had her taser pointed at me. Funny though, as she wasn’t even on duty or meant to have it. Crazy days.
Later that night at Shimmering Dreams, a man sat in his darkened office as he toyed with his lucky domino that he had been given from the Limping Dragon. Things could have gone so badly for him with all those cops poking their noses around the place.
‘What was Madison thinking?’ the man mumbled as he downloaded a few more dreams for his handlers. Luckily, all the focus was on Blades and Goddard. But he knew that one day they would try to find the leak again. And they would find one – just not him.
Chapter 5
Tony (Tiger) Thompson
A couple of weeks after the Blades’ case was closed, I found myself once again called into the station to see my detective superintendent. He was a real fucking arsehole. Not only did he have a brown nose, but I reckoned the shit reached his ankles.
I sighed and knocked on the door, then a buzzer went off telling me to enter. What kind of prick has that? The last guv just threw a cricket ball which you had to retrieve when you entered. I opened the door. It was OCD heaven. It was my worst nightmare. I swear if the man had dust it would be in rows.
‘You wanted to speak to me, guv?’ I asked, knowing he hated the slang term.
‘Yes, Sergeant, take a seat,’ he answered in his usual pinched tones.
It was a tight fit, but I managed to squeeze into the chair. I scanned his features. He looked like the old prime minister John Major but with an even more punch able face. Also, he looked like he was sweating all the time. I think he just slimed like a slug. ‘What can I do for you…guv?’ I asked smiling and wondering if I had cleared all the coke from my nose.
The punchbag looked me up and down. ‘I’m just reviewing the Goddard murder. There are a couple of problems,’ the DI slimed as he turned the pages of the file with a limp wrist and only touching the pages with the tips of his thumb and forefinger.
He’s really spoiling my day. I had a lovely buzz going this morning. ‘Problems, guv? It was plain and simple, a self-defence killing, some workmate of his threw a wobbler,’ I added in my finest cockney tone to piss off the Eton schoolboy.
Detective Inspector Ian Radisson just stared at me again for a good couple of seconds. He must have read that in a manual somewhere. ‘Indeed, Sergeant, but my problem is the weapon. I understand that the serial number was ground off,’ he drawled.
God, I want to slap him like the bitch he is. ‘That’s right, guv,’ I said politely, but internally I wanted to rip off his eyebrows and tell him that I knew about his sixteen-year-old houseboy –student, my arse! ‘It happens quite a lot. Bloody films and TV give the wankers enough tips to make our job harder.’
He was getting angry now. ‘Well, the ballistics were checked on the database, and it turns out it was used in another crime six months ago,’ he said smugly.
‘Well, that’s good, guv. Another gun off the streets and another crime off the books,’ I said brightly, although internally I was running away to drink the local bar dry.
‘No, that’s the problem. This gun was already off the streets. It was meant to be in evidence, but somehow it found its way into the hands of Goddard,’ DI Twat Face said as he steepled his fingers, another gesture he’d copied from the How to Intimidate Your Subordinates manual.
I shrugged and put on my best innocent schoolboy look. ‘I don’t know what to tell you, guv. What about CCTV? Did you manage to catch the bloke that nicked it?’ I asked, feigning shock and knowing full well that he hadn’t, otherwise my face would be pushed into a pillow and I’d be buggered senseless in prison by now.
The man gave me a predatory grin. ‘No, Sergeant. We had a power cut a few months ago which shut everything down for about twenty minutes, so internal affairs think it happened then,’ replied Twat Head.
I pulled a freshly shocked face, which might have looked more like constipation if I’m honest. ‘Jesus, guv, that’s bad. What else did these bastards get away with?’ I asked and waited for my Oscar to arrive.
‘A couple more handguns and a few kilograms of cocaine,’ the DI said with disgust. This puzzled me because that was some good shit. Even Peanut loved it, and he was a coke snob, unless he had to pay for it, then any shit was good enough.
I shook my head. ‘Well, if anybody can find the bastards, our internal affairs department can.’ Apart from the fact that I’ve been robbing them blind for years… Mugs.
The DI didn’t react to this and just carried on putting some files away before swallowing hard, sighing and looking directly into my eyes. He then announced, ‘Enough of this bullshit. We know you did it, and when I find proof you’re going down,’ he spat.
I feigned being hurt and placed my fleshy hand on my poor overworked, fat-clogged heart. ‘You wound me, sir, but if that’s what you think, then how can I stop you?’ I said with a cocky smile before standing up and stretching, making my joints crack all over my body, knowing he was checking out my well-padded body – he’s only human, after all. I noticed that he had snapped his pencil in half, showing off his prowess. I guess that’s how he gets his boy, the show of strength, but he did look angry. ‘Well, clearly you’re busy, sir. I’ll see you again soon I’m sure.’
‘You can count on it, Thompson,’ he shot back as I left his office, making sure I slammed the door hard behind me.
I walked straight outside, sat in my car and took out my Suzie Q burner phone, always handy to have a few pay-as-you-go mobiles not registered and only paid for with cash. Or, like the way I did it, lift a box of fifty phones whilst investigating a robbery at an electronics store. As I drove towards the café, I called her. ‘Hey, baby.’
‘Tiger…pick up bread.’
‘Consider it done, my little lotus blossom,’ I replied to her sweet tones as I blared my car horn at a cyclist.
‘Call me that again and you’ll pay in blood, fat boy,’ she answered coldly. ‘Now, what do you want?’
Clearly, she wanted me. ‘I have some work trouble and I need a DI to be retired. Can one of your hacker buddies help?’
The line went silent. ‘How bad?’
‘Enough to be retired with a pension, but not banged up or a full investigation,’ I added, a little worried by what she was thinking.
‘I need something. What’s his interest?’ asked Suzie.
‘He has a sixteen-year-old boy living with him, pretends he’s a boarder.’ I could feel the excitement down the phone.
‘Perfect, I’ll get it done,’ she concluded. I thought she had left, but then she made my day. ‘Don’t eat. I’m coming home with Daphne, she’s started lactating, enough for two. Oh, and it�
��s a school night, so don’t forget your uniform.’
At that comment I nearly crashed my car with excitement. The phone went dead. It was true love.
Chapter 6
Sam Blades
It had been over a month since the attack, and I was still waiting for Bunny to break down crying or show remorse about the life she took. Though it never appeared, I think the new home helped with the healing process. But what she did do was buy the identical yellow jumpsuit from Kill Bill. She wore it one night with the sword, which she refused to lock away, and tied me naked to a chair before ravaging me. Although I did trust my love, there was something in the back of my head wondering if she had a taste for killing now. I love my life.
Bethany had helped us to get the sword back and confirmed to the police that it was locked up. Sharon hadn’t helped but instead just said I was a piss-taking twat. I’m growing on her after giving her the film Basic Instinct for her birthday. They were regular visitors to our new flat. It was nice to know that we had friends whom Bunny hadn’t fought with yet.
Before hitting the tube for work, I was reading the paper while watching the ‘Bunny getting dressed theatre’, which hit a pinnacle when she put one of her talons through her tights. My mistake was snorting while I fought with the laughter fairy. A word of warning though, any shoe hurts when it’s chucked – it doesn’t have to be heeled.
‘Looks like another copper has been a naughty boy at Barking nick, luv,’ I called out.
There was some swearing, but she did finally answer. ‘Yeah, Sharon told me. They found pictures of teenage boys on his PC, plus he had a sixteen-year-old Thailand boy as a tenant, cough cough,’ she called out as her new pair of tights gave in and allowed themselves to be worn.
‘Whoops, bad policeman,’ I said in a playful voice, which did bring a chuckle from her.
Finally, she finished getting ready, placed a kiss on my cheek and ran out of the door. Living closer to my work had its benefits. Yay me. I downed the rest of my tea finished reading the paper and walked calmly out of the flat.