Giles will be well pleased.’
‘Anything to help a pal . . . who’ll be buying me a beer at his earliest convenience?’ said Barnes.
‘Don’t hold your breath mate; I’m beginning to think I’ll never see the inside of a pub again.’
Morley relayed the information to Giles.
‘We’re off then,’ said Giles looking at his watch. ‘It’s just about our time anyway.’
‘Our time, sir?’
‘Three a.m. It’s the time when policemen knock on doors in all the best books; something to do with disorientation of the mind in the wee small hours. It makes it more difficult for the villains to lie to us.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Morley. He didn’t sound convinced.
After the third heavy knock, a youth wearing a grubby T-shirt and boxer shorts opened the door to the flat in Elton Road. He blinked against the light, scratched his crotch and mumbled, ‘What the fuck do you want?’
‘Police,’ said Morley, holding up his warrant card. ‘We’d like to talk to Kevin Shanks.
‘He aint here.’
‘I think we’ll just check on that sir,’ said Morley, brushing past the youth.
‘Pigs, everybody! Pig attack!’ the boy cried out.
‘Shut it!’ warned Giles, taking the boy by the scruff of the neck and pinning him against the wall.
There was a general scuffling in the flat: doors opened and shut and there was the sound of a toilet being flushed. ‘They’re flushing away drugs, sir,’ said Morley.
‘I know,’ smiled Giles. ‘Reward enough, don’t you think? Let’s hope it cost them a bundle.’ He was watching bodies emerge from sleeping bags on the floor of the living room, hands held up to shield their eyes from the light he’d switched on. One of the girls had no clothes on. ‘What the fuck are you looking at, you fucking pervert?’ she demanded.
‘A young woman with no brains, no class, no sense and no manners,’ replied Giles. ‘How am I doing?’
‘Here, have you got a fucking warrant?’ demanded a spotty youth with what looked like dried vomit on his T-shirt. He tried to come towards Giles but found it difficult to make a path through the empty bottles on the floor.
Giles ignored all questions as he continued his search for someone with long red hair. He moved through to the first of the bedrooms where a good looking boy was in bed with two girls. ‘What are you looking at, tosser?’ the boy demanded.
‘An arsehole?’ suggested Giles calmly. ‘. . . and that was without phoning a friend.’
‘You’ve got no fucking right . . .’
‘So sue me. Get up.’
‘Fucking pig, you’ve no right to burst in here and . . .’
‘Shut the fuck up!’ snapped Giles as he returned to the living room and silence descended on the flat. ‘We’re looking for Kevin Shanks . . .
‘You’re still looking.’
‘In connection with a murder inquiry,’ completed Giles.
‘He aint here, pigs.’
‘I can see that,’ said Giles quietly. ‘Where is he?’
‘Think we’d tell you?’
‘No,’ said Giles matter of factly, ‘I don’t, but I am obliged to ask you officially so that I can come back and charge the lot of you later with being accessories to murder.’
‘You can’t do that!’ protested the spotty youth.
‘Are you really going to bet your pimply arse on that, sonny?’ said Giles in measured tones.
The boy looked uncertain.
‘Kevin’s staying the night with his girlfriend,’ said one of the others, ‘Her folks are away.’
This attracted the disapproval of the others.
‘Fuck this, I aint getting into any murder rap,’ the boy retorted.
‘Girlfriend’s name? Address?’
Morley wrote down the details and the two policemen left. ‘If anyone lifts that phone to warn Shanks, we’ll come back and charge all of you,’ was Giles’ parting shot.
Giles paused before getting into the car and Morley asked, ‘Everything all right, sir?’
‘I was just thinking about the parade at the Cenotaph a couple of weeks ago,’ he replied. He inclined his head in
‘Anything to help a pal . . . who’ll be buying me a beer at his earliest convenience?’ said Barnes.
‘Don’t hold your breath mate; I’m beginning to think I’ll never see the inside of a pub again.’
Morley relayed the information to Giles.
‘We’re off then,’ said Giles looking at his watch. ‘It’s just about our time anyway.’
‘Our time, sir?’
‘Three a.m. It’s the time when policemen knock on doors in all the best books; something to do with disorientation of the mind in the wee small hours. It makes it more difficult for the villains to lie to us.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Morley. He didn’t sound convinced.
After the third heavy knock, a youth wearing a grubby T-shirt and boxer shorts opened the door to the flat in Elton Road. He blinked against the light, scratched his crotch and mumbled, ‘What the fuck do you want?’
‘Police,’ said Morley, holding up his warrant card. ‘We’d like to talk to Kevin Shanks.
‘He aint here.’
‘I think we’ll just check on that sir,’ said Morley, brushing past the youth.
‘Pigs, everybody! Pig attack!’ the boy cried out.
‘Shut it!’ warned Giles, taking the boy by the scruff of the neck and pinning him against the wall.
There was a general scuffling in the flat: doors opened and shut and there was the sound of a toilet being flushed. ‘They’re flushing away drugs, sir,’ said Morley.
‘I know,’ smiled Giles. ‘Reward enough, don’t you think? Let’s hope it cost them a bundle.’ He was watching bodies emerge from sleeping bags on the floor of the living room, hands held up to shield their eyes from the light he’d switched on. One of the girls had no clothes on. ‘What the fuck are you looking at, you fucking pervert?’ she demanded.
‘A young woman with no brains, no class, no sense and no manners,’ replied Giles. ‘How am I doing?’
‘Here, have you got a fucking warrant?’ demanded a spotty youth with what looked like dried vomit on his T-shirt. He tried to come towards Giles but found it difficult to make a path through the empty bottles on the floor.
Giles ignored all questions as he continued his search for someone with long red hair. He moved through to the first of the bedrooms where a good looking boy was in bed with two girls. ‘What are you looking at, tosser?’ the boy demanded.
‘An arsehole?’ suggested Giles calmly. ‘. . . and that was without phoning a friend.’
‘You’ve got no fucking right . . .’
‘So sue me. Get up.’
‘Fucking pig, you’ve no right to burst in here and . . .’
‘Shut the fuck up!’ snapped Giles as he returned to the living room and silence descended on the flat. ‘We’re looking for Kevin Shanks . . .
‘You’re still looking.’
‘In connection with a murder inquiry,’ completed Giles.
‘He aint here, pigs.’
‘I can see that,’ said Giles quietly. ‘Where is he?’
‘Think we’d tell you?’
‘No,’ said Giles matter of factly, ‘I don’t, but I am obliged to ask you officially so that I can come back and charge the lot of you later with being accessories to murder.’
‘You can’t do that!’ protested the spotty youth.
‘Are you really going to bet your pimply arse on that, sonny?’ said Giles in measured tones.
The boy looked uncertain.
‘Kevin’s staying the night with his girlfriend,’ said one of the others, ‘Her folks are away.’
This attracted the disapproval of the others.
‘Fuck this, I aint getting into any murder rap,’ the boy retorted.
‘Girlfriend’s name? Address?’
Morley wrote down the details and the two policemen left. ‘If anyone lifts that phone to warn Shanks, we’ll come back and charge all of you,’ was Giles’ parting shot.
Giles paused before getting into the car and Morley asked, ‘Everything all right, sir?’
‘I was just thinking about the parade at the Cenotaph a couple of weeks ago,’ he replied. He inclined his head in
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