didn’t take their eyes off Breen and Tozer as they walked past. Peace and love be fucked.
England dividing itself on new lines.
Later, they stopped at the station to check in to see if Wellington had been in touch.
Marilyn was turning the handle of the Roneo machine with a bored look on her face.
She looked from Tozer to Breen and back again. “You two a team now?” she said to Breen.
“She’s just a probationer.”
“Put the kettle on then, love,” said Marilyn to Tozer. “I’m parched.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” said Tozer. “Put it on yourself.”
“That’s nice, isn’t it?” she said, still cranking the Roneo. “I heard you had her going round asking questions with you.”
“Her is standing right here,” said Tozer.
Breen looked from Tozer and back to Marilyn again, aware that he was being drawn into something that could only end badly.
“I always end up making the tea for you lot,” Marilyn said. “Why shouldn’t she?”
“Because I don’t even want tea.”
Marilyn paused her cranking and glared at Tozer.
“So, I’ll make it, then?” said Breen eventually. Both the women stared at him.
In the kitchen down the corridor, he rummaged through the cupboards looking for the tea bags. “Has Wellington been in touch?” he called to Marilyn.
Marilyn left the Roneo and came and leaned against the doorway, watching him. “He called an hour ago. He said it was what you thought it was. He wouldn’t tell me what, though. Said it wasn’t my business.”
Breen opened a tin but it was full of Nescafé.
“In the box on the left,” she said. Breen found the wooden box and pulled open the top, then looked for cups to put the tea bags in. Marilyn let him rummage a little while longer, then said, “Top cupboard,” over her shoulder, returning to the office.
Breen brought two cups back into the office, spilling tea on his trousers as he walked. He placed them on Marilyn’s desk, wiping the liquid off the material.
“Where’s mine then?” said Tozer.
“The plonk has Breen making her tea now,” Jones jeered.
“You said you didn’t want one,” protested Breen.
“That was when she wanted me to make them.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Marilyn said.
“It was a joke. Just a joke.”
“Don’t be so pathetic.” She turned her back on Tozer. “So what was Wellington on about then?”
Breen had never known Marilyn be so rude. He couldn’t understand it. “Constable Tozer here, who you think so little of, discovered a stain on the dress,” he said, finding himself sticking up for her a second time in one day.
Tozer stopped smiling and shook her head. “Don’t, sir.”
“And correctly identified it as sperm.”
“Sir,” hissed Tozer, tugging at his sleeve.
“It was in those dustbins, the ones you suggested we shouldn’t bother going through, Jones.”
“But, sir…”
“What’s that?” said Jones. “What did she find on the dress?”
“I suppose the question you’d have to ask is how come she knew what it was,” said Marilyn, picking up her cup of tea. “I mean…”
“Ooooh,” said Jones, standing and rubbing his hands together. All eyes were now on Tozer.
“See?” Tozer reddened.
“A man’s you-know-what?”
“You’d probably need to see a lot of that stuff to know what it looked like.”
“You dirty bitch.”
The woman constable glared at Breen. “Thanks very much, sir.”
“Where did you see that, Tozer?” Whistles and catcalls. Tozer ran from the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Tou-chy,” said Jones.
“I’d heard she was a bit of a slag.”
Breen stood there looking around the room, at all the grinning faces. “Give the girl a bloody chance,” he said.
“I don’t think Constable Tozer is going to make it in CID, somehow,” said Marilyn, smiling, back on the Roneo machine. Click-whirr. Click-whirr.
“She was trying to help solve a murder.”
Jones lit a cigarette and said, “So it looks like someone in
England dividing itself on new lines.
Later, they stopped at the station to check in to see if Wellington had been in touch.
Marilyn was turning the handle of the Roneo machine with a bored look on her face.
She looked from Tozer to Breen and back again. “You two a team now?” she said to Breen.
“She’s just a probationer.”
“Put the kettle on then, love,” said Marilyn to Tozer. “I’m parched.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” said Tozer. “Put it on yourself.”
“That’s nice, isn’t it?” she said, still cranking the Roneo. “I heard you had her going round asking questions with you.”
“Her is standing right here,” said Tozer.
Breen looked from Tozer and back to Marilyn again, aware that he was being drawn into something that could only end badly.
“I always end up making the tea for you lot,” Marilyn said. “Why shouldn’t she?”
“Because I don’t even want tea.”
Marilyn paused her cranking and glared at Tozer.
“So, I’ll make it, then?” said Breen eventually. Both the women stared at him.
In the kitchen down the corridor, he rummaged through the cupboards looking for the tea bags. “Has Wellington been in touch?” he called to Marilyn.
Marilyn left the Roneo and came and leaned against the doorway, watching him. “He called an hour ago. He said it was what you thought it was. He wouldn’t tell me what, though. Said it wasn’t my business.”
Breen opened a tin but it was full of Nescafé.
“In the box on the left,” she said. Breen found the wooden box and pulled open the top, then looked for cups to put the tea bags in. Marilyn let him rummage a little while longer, then said, “Top cupboard,” over her shoulder, returning to the office.
Breen brought two cups back into the office, spilling tea on his trousers as he walked. He placed them on Marilyn’s desk, wiping the liquid off the material.
“Where’s mine then?” said Tozer.
“The plonk has Breen making her tea now,” Jones jeered.
“You said you didn’t want one,” protested Breen.
“That was when she wanted me to make them.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Marilyn said.
“It was a joke. Just a joke.”
“Don’t be so pathetic.” She turned her back on Tozer. “So what was Wellington on about then?”
Breen had never known Marilyn be so rude. He couldn’t understand it. “Constable Tozer here, who you think so little of, discovered a stain on the dress,” he said, finding himself sticking up for her a second time in one day.
Tozer stopped smiling and shook her head. “Don’t, sir.”
“And correctly identified it as sperm.”
“Sir,” hissed Tozer, tugging at his sleeve.
“It was in those dustbins, the ones you suggested we shouldn’t bother going through, Jones.”
“But, sir…”
“What’s that?” said Jones. “What did she find on the dress?”
“I suppose the question you’d have to ask is how come she knew what it was,” said Marilyn, picking up her cup of tea. “I mean…”
“Ooooh,” said Jones, standing and rubbing his hands together. All eyes were now on Tozer.
“See?” Tozer reddened.
“A man’s you-know-what?”
“You’d probably need to see a lot of that stuff to know what it looked like.”
“You dirty bitch.”
The woman constable glared at Breen. “Thanks very much, sir.”
“Where did you see that, Tozer?” Whistles and catcalls. Tozer ran from the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Tou-chy,” said Jones.
“I’d heard she was a bit of a slag.”
Breen stood there looking around the room, at all the grinning faces. “Give the girl a bloody chance,” he said.
“I don’t think Constable Tozer is going to make it in CID, somehow,” said Marilyn, smiling, back on the Roneo machine. Click-whirr. Click-whirr.
“She was trying to help solve a murder.”
Jones lit a cigarette and said, “So it looks like someone in
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