Calder had at last arrived. Loach was sorely tempted to strangle Foxy and break Freddy’s fingers.
‘Hey! Feel my whiskers. Are they burning, or are they burning?’
The hand-puppet entered the parade room, followed by a similarly red-faced Freddy Calder. His embarrassment didn’t excuse his crime. It was time for a firmly administered example of keel-hauling.
‘Sorry, sorry, sorry.’ Sprinkling his apologies here and there, Freddy must have noticed that Loach was not amused. ‘Really sorry, Bob.’
Freddy hurriedly joined Viv Smith, tossing her a Benny Hill grin. Loach’s glare wiped the smile off Freddy’s face.
‘Be serious, Freddy, for once. D’you know that Sergeant McAllister has just been melting the wax in my ears? You been chasing stolen cars again?’
That random probe apparently struck a nerve, as Special Constable Calder could no longer hide the guilt on his face.
Loach tried to go easy on him, out of a basic respect for someone like Freddy who had, after all, volunteered his services to become a Special, just as he and the others had.
‘I know you don’t miss much, but it doesn’t help to antagonize the police.’
Loach shook his head. It was no use. For all of Freddy Calder’s talents, as well as quirks, advice to him on diplomacy would always fall on deaf ears.
Constable Toby Armstrong was walking his partner, Anjali Shah, to the black-and-white panda they shared while out lurking through the jungles of Birmingham and local environs looking for trouble. Tonight they might find it simply by sitting in the panda and going nowhere. While talking about his wife, Toby was, for the time being anyway, happy to be happily married, or else he might be vulnerable to the temptations of this dark angel.
‘She’s pregnant.’
Anjali’s eyes widened. ‘Shirley?’
‘Who else?’
Anjali instinctively took Toby’s hand and squeezed it in hers.
‘Congratulations, Toby.’
As an afterthought, she did some mental arithmetic before coming to the logical conclusion about the nearly newlyweds and their first offspring now in gestation.
‘It’s a honeymoon baby!’
That must have been the correct answer, as it provoked a robust laugh from Toby that he didn’t explain until they were settled in the panda with their safety belts fastened.
‘Don’t mention the word “honeymoon,”’ he sighed, shaking his head in bittersweet reverie. ‘We stayed in this hotel down in the West Country …’
Her blank expression suggested to him that she might not have the faintest notion of the particular nuances and idiosyncrasies found in that region of the realm, so he took a step backward before proceeding.
‘You know? The ones that say they’ve a lot of character. Where some King Johnny spent the night.’ It was too late in the story to stop again and explain. ‘I reckon we had the same bed he did,’ implying its age. ‘It was gross. Like that –’
Through the air he made a deep scooping arc with his hand, illustrating the shape of the sacrificial honeymoon altar upon which he had probably developed permanent curvature of the spine.
‘– with squeaky bed springs.’
He had to chuckle in spite of himself.
‘If you’re right, and it is a honeymoon baby, I reckon we ought to call him Shakin’ Stevens!’
Momentarily a question flashed across his mind as to whether Anjali might consider his remark ‘not in the best of taste’, as she would carefully say. He hoped so. At least she might provide an occasion for some innocent flirtation. After all, his safety belt was in place: he was a happily married old man.
Because Freddy Calder was the last one in and, as per usual, the last one out, Viv Smith virtually had to lead him by the hand through the front entrance of Division ‘S’ in order to have any chance of getting some work done before it was time to go home again. Putting it mildly, this little-big lad could be absolutely maddening.
Nonetheless, Viv was flattered to be assigned the responsibility of babysitting the problem child of the bunch. That alone proved Loach had confidence in her: a single, smashing, hip young bird in charge of Freddy – Super Sleuth.
She decided she might as well take advantage of her plight this evening, and perhaps exploit the genuine gullibility of her intended victim, by rehearsing her latest sales scheme on poor Freddy, as she used to rehearse the lead in her school play.
‘You know something, Freddy? I’ve come to the conclusion that money is a very interesting thing.’
‘I’ll say.’
Brilliant repartee.
‘No, give over. I mean it.’ The time had arrived to establish credibility by making oblique reference to her regular position as a Teller in Accountancy.
‘Since working at the Building Society, I’ve learned a few things. You know, like stocks and shares?’
It was a bizarre possibility, but maybe he didn’t know.
‘Surely you’ve thought about that, Freddy? At your age?’
‘No,’ he scowled. ‘And less of the “at my age.”’
Such a sensitive dinosaur, though.
‘But you should. You won’t get very far pushing your fingers up a puppet …’
Maybe there was a better phrase she might have turned there, and she quickly checked his eyes for any sign of awareness or intelligence for that matter, none of which could be detected in the subdued light.
‘… But if you do it right, you can make a quick killing on the market.’
‘By going out and cutting my throat, you mean,’ answered Freddy.
Viv wondered if that might be a better plan than hers.
Through her side of the windscreen in the panda, Anjali Shah watched Special Constable Viv Smith and Freddy Calder passing by. Apparently concentrating on his driving, Toby wasn’t talkative at the moment, so Anjali had a moment’s respite. She was lost in her own thoughts of being close to and yet far from her family, from the frictions as well as the comforts of home …
‘Not feeling broody, are you?’ Toby interrupted her wanderings.
‘I need a husband first.’ Now why did she let that slip, even as a joke?
‘Well, then?’ Toby asked slyly, sneaking a quick look to gauge her reaction.
