Specials: Based on the BBC TV Drama Series: The complete novels in one volume. Brian Degas. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Brian Degas
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Полицейские детективы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780008260606
Скачать книгу
before running on again. ‘Why can’t the sod phone and say: “Thank you, Bob.” It’s not much.’

      Loach seemed completely oblivious to the devastating effect the lambasting of his immediate superior, Sub-Divisional Officer Rob Barker, was having on Administrative Secretary Sandra Gibson. Obviously he didn’t realize the connection.

      ‘If you want my opinion,’ Loach offered, although no one had solicited his views, ‘he’s got his leg over some bird, or maybe broken it getting off.’

      That did it. Without a word, her face set in a bleak expression, Sandra got up and walked out.

      Loach was dumbfounded, the puzzled look on his face asking Viv: What’s that all about?

      ‘You really are a daft egg,’ Viv remonstrated.

      ‘What are you on about?’

      ‘Rob Barker this, Rob Barker that. You’re as sensitive as a Harpic.’

      ‘I’m only telling it the way I see it,’ Loach tried to rationalize self-defensively.

      Viv wasn’t letting him off the hook. ‘Well, I’ll be glad to tell Rob Barker the next time I see him.’

      ‘Fine. Do that,’ Loach concluded. To hell with the gent. But then he started to replay her comment and reconsider what it meant.

      ‘What d’you mean “next time?”’ he inquired suspiciously. ‘When did you see him?’

      Abruptly Viv corrected her course, becoming a bit more evasive in her tone. ‘I’ve seen him a couple o’ times in the last week.’

      Loach was surprised by her answer. ‘Where?’

      ‘Where I work,’ Viv replied: ‘The Bromsgrove.’

      A frown settled on Loach’s brow. ‘The Building Society? What for? A mortgage?’

      The conversation was leading in the wrong direction, but there wasn’t much Viv could do about it.

      ‘No. He’s got a mortgage already. I’m not sure, but I think he was talking to the manager about selling … selling his house, that is.’

      Luckily at that moment Viv spotted Freddy Calder standing in the doorway. Smiling, she turned to Bob Loach to cut off his line of inquiry.

      ‘Oh, oh! There’s Freddy. Gotta go.’

      Loach remained in some confusion as to what was going on while Freddy motioned Viv to join him, bringing Loach back to the present. ‘That reminds me …’

      As Viv got up, Loach joined her, and together they crossed the room to meet Freddy.

      ‘The woman from social’s here,’ Freddy informed her. ‘A Miss Brownlow. I thought you might want to meet her.’ Apparently, Freddy was happily impressed with Miss Brownlow. ‘She’s a smashing girl. And the kids like her …’

      Freddy turned to leave with Viv to meet Miss Brownlow. Loach made a weak waggle with his hand in an attempt to stop him, then waved both of them away. No use trying to drag Viv back for further questioning at present.

      Surveying the crowded Pub on 4th last time, Loach noticed someone else he wanted to see . Weaving his way through the maze of people and chairs, he arrived at Anjali Shah’s table as she, too, was trying to extricate herself and say her goodbyes. But the other Specials and PC’s at her table were teasing her unmercifully and refusing to let her go.

      ‘You want a lift home, Anjali?’ suggested one with a sly smirk.

      ‘I go past your way,’ another mock-chivalrous Special chimed in.

      ‘Forget it, he’s only got a motorbike,’ scoffed the latter’s partner.

      Still another pseudo-knight stepped into the fray: ‘If Anjali’s going with anyone, it’s with me.’

      His challenge was met by a chorus of birdsong from the fellow rivals for Anjali’s company.

      ‘You can all sit down,’ she ordered them, a trace of a smile on her lips. ‘The man who’s taking me home is …’

      She kept them panting, awaiting the maiden’s fair choice.

      ‘… the nice man who drives the 44 bus.’

      A series of muted boos greeted her announcement. Anjali left the table laughing, passing Bob Loach on her way out.

      ‘If you want to change your mind …?’ Loach offered politely, not teasing her any more.

      Anjali simply smiled shyly and walked by with her head lowered to avoid his eyes.

      Shaking his own head, Loach watched her departure, then joined her former suitors at the table.

      ‘Well, George?’ queried the first one: ‘You blew out there.’

      ‘You want me to really try?’ responded the PC named George. ‘Show me the colour of your money.’

      One of them turned to Loach. ‘What d’you think, Bob?’

      ‘What do I think what?’ he countered.

      ‘Has she got a heavy boyfriend, or what?

      ‘Nah!’ his partner scoffed again. ‘Maybe she’s cheesed off giving massage all day.’

      The others laughed at the lewd suggestion, but Loach turned on them sourly.

      ‘Only dipsticks like you would make an NHS physio sound like a nymphomaniac,’ he lectured them.

      But his sobriety only spurred the others to lower depths.

      ‘Hey!’ one pseudo-knight interrupted as an idea popped into his head: ‘Did someone mention my hobby?’

       10

      Still in uniform, Anjali Shah walked up to the door of the modest terraced house where she lived. Retrieving the key from her shoulder bag, she unlocked the door and went in.

      In the sitting room, her brother Sanjay was playing carom – a form of table billiards – with several of his ‘friends’. One strong main light was beaming down on the playing surface, so that several of the players’ faces were in deep shadow.

      When Anjali removed her coat in the doorway, her Specials uniform was revealed. From the corner of her eye she noticed that the sudden sight of her uniform made some of Sanjay’s nervous ‘friends’ scatter their winnings across the board, in effect ruining the state of play.

      Sanjay was livid. ‘Look what you have done, Jelly Baby! Go to bed.’

      A trifle amused at his attitude, Anjali stopped a moment to look around the table. One face moved out of the shadow into the light. It was the young man, the young thief, she had earlier seen on the other side of the perimeter fence at the engineering works.

      Sanjay turned to his ‘friends’ to apologize for his sister’s presence. ‘I have a snoop for a sister, you know.’

      Her face hardened, as a sneering smile played around the lips of the young thief. Without another word she left them and went into the kitchen.

      While she was making herself a cup of coffee, the young thief opened the door, came in then closed the door behind him. From the sitting room, she had heard one of the others call him ‘Dev’.

      This Dev moved alongside Anjali. He picked up a sharp piece of cutlery and played with it, perhaps trying to appear more menacing.

      ‘So the little police lady is Sanjay’s sister,’ he began slowly. ‘Don’t you think that’s funny? I think it’s funny.’

      ‘I’m sure Raj finds it very funny in hospital. He broke his leg,’ she replied calmly.

      Dev seemed