kind? Fag dangling from her mouth, and the ash falling in the Sunday salad. It’s easy to understand that he’s got an … aversion, you might say.’
That was one of the recurring nightmares in her long procession of failed relationships: there was one something about Viv that her boyfriends didn’t like. One stumbling block. And she was always willing to try anything to save the relationship. As a young girl just becoming enraptured with boys, she often used to think that maybe she tried too hard, talked too much, drove people into corners where they would rather chip their nails on the walls trying to escape than stick around in her company. So it was no wonder she would try to put that tenacity to some good use by kicking the smoking habit for Ginger. She hoped he was worth it.
‘Anyway, we’ve got the kind of relationship where we don’t hold anything back. And I can understand a fella not wanting to kiss an ashtray.’
Freddy’s own lips recoiled at the thought, to his fantasies a particularly repugnant notion. ‘That’s disgusting.’ His eyes roamed the broadish street, seeking some worthy quest, or anything that would get him away from further discussion of the sensual pleasures of oral intimacy with common ashtrays. ‘Look, while you put another nail in your coffin I’ll check that lot over there and join you back here.’
He didn’t wait for her permission but set sail under his own wind for the small warehouse and builder’s yard on the opposite side of the street.
Soon after Freddy had crossed the street Viv became aware that he had forgotten and left the radio with her. She was about to call out to him when she thought better of it. Why disturb the peace? It’s only for a couple of minutes anyway, she told herself.
As PC Toby Armstrong cruised slowly down the suburban street, Loach was in the passenger seat concentrating on the layout ahead and figuring out how to make his obvious intention seem more subtle and unobtrusive.
‘Did Anjali say why she couldn’t come on duty?’ Toby queried.
‘Some family matter, I think,’ Loach answered absent-mindedly.
‘Oh.’ Toby seemed to be waiting for Loach to take the lead in conversation, a skill that was not his forte.
‘Mind if we take a left here?’ Loach pointed.
‘What?’ asked Toby in mild surprise.
‘I have to get a message to somebody in “X” Division.’
‘I don’t remember that being mentioned …’
Loach at once admired and cursed Toby’s sense of proper protocol. ‘No. I’m doing somebody a favour.’
Toby glanced at Loach, then returned to watching the road through the windscreen in front of him.
‘I know it isn’t according to the book.’
Not saying a word, Toby simply let out his breath in a sound conveying full comprehension that this would be a dangerous mission. He glanced again at Loach, held his gaze, and Loach looked him in the eye. Toby went back to watching his driving, and turned left.
‘Thanks.’
Toby shook his head in reluctance. ‘If McAllister hears about this, it’s going to be your guts for garters.’
Freddy rattled the padlock on the warehouse doors, just to make sure it was secure. Then he went to check the side door before walking on.
He didn’t mind being alone, really. That was the story of his life. At this stage in his adult life, he was more comfortable by himself, or at least that’s what he repeated over and over and over again. Perhaps he ought to reconsider his position.
Arriving at the builder’s yard, he tested the gate. To his surprise, it creaked open. Frowning, Freddy swung the gate inward, switching on his torch.
The light flickered over piles of sand, bricks and other materials of the building trade. Nothing out of the ordinary, until he saw a slight movement, a glimmer of reflected light in the shadows. Something – somebody – was there.
A scurrying motion raced from the shadows toward Freddy, although he couldn’t catch it with the torch. As the beam searched deeper into the black void, he heard a low growl emanating from the darkness directly ahead. He snapped the torch to meet the noise, and there in the shaft of light were two narrow, hungry eyes of a hound from hell.
Sweating hard, Freddy slowly reached for the radio. It wasn’t there! Suddenly he remembered – it was back with Viv. Meanwhile, the canine cannibal was snarling, looming toward him. Paralyzed, he tried to shout or scream, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. In turn he was staring into the drooling mouth of an Alsatian beast.
Toby waited in the panda in front of the Division ‘X’ building, as Loach climbed the steep steps leading up to the entry doors.
Pushing through the swing doors, Loach crossed to the reception area and found a civilian on duty.
‘Hi.’
No answer. The civilian was preparing a cup of coffee for himself. With seemingly exaggerated slowness, he managed to switch on the electric kettle, apparently a major accomplishment. His attitude suggesting a Jack-the-lad, he looked at Loach coolly, throwing him off-guard.
‘Detective Inspector Dutrow …?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Is he in?’ Loach clarified for him.
‘Search me.’
Loach practised his patience, counting to ten … actually to eight. ‘But you could find out?’
‘I guess.’ Lazily he checked a large notebook, slowly fingering his way down the columns.
Outside a horn beeped: undoubtedly Toby. Loach went over to the swing doors and bent down to peer through them, motioning him an I’ll-be-right-there signal. Off to his right, his attention was drawn to an activity going on in the yard. He moved to the window to take a closer look.
In the yard, a police constable was showing a group of Specials various transgressions to watch out for in a vehicle. Among the Specials was a face fresh in his memory: the solicitor, Loach reminded himself, although it didn’t appear that the solicitor was being favoured in any way at the moment.
The lackadaisical voice of Jack-the-lad brought his thoughts back to present company. ‘Got ’im. Two … two … three … seven …’
After dialling the number on the internal line, the civilian waited, offering Loach a sugary, confident smile.
‘Dobson, front desk here. Got someone for Detective Inspector Dutrow … Hang on, I’ll ask him.’ Jack-the-lad cupped his hand over the mouthpiece and addressed Loach directly. ‘Forget to get your name, didn’t I?’
‘Section Officer Loach.’
He reached out a hand for the phone, but Jack drew back out of range. ‘It’s … you heard
