The unity of the response startled Falls. Alan waited, then:
‘Any infringements?’
A hand went up and he nodded; a middle-aged man said,
‘I’m Tom and I’m an alcoholic, an addict and a adulterer. I’d like to report an infringement by Emily.’
Emily’s head shot up, her cheeks reddening, Tom continued:
‘She bribed the cook to bring her in chocolate.’
Alan’s eyes were bright; he said,
‘Thank you, Tom. Emily, how do you plead?’
Emily didn’t answer and he barked,
“Fess up, you piece of trash.’
Emily began to cry and he started to clap his hands, said,
‘Together, people.’
The group began to clap. Then he stopped, said,
‘Emily, did you share this... treat with anyone?’
She shook her head and he said,
‘Cat’s got her tongue. Well, let the cat keep it. Nobody is to speak to her for three days. Understood?’
‘Yes, Alan.’
In unison.
Now he turned to Falls, said,
‘And what have we here? Ms Falls, I believe.’
Falls eyeballed him and she could see the smile begin to form on his lips. He turned back to the group, said,
‘People, what we have here is a junkie, a thief... and a whore.’
Falls hit him on the side of the head, a Brant special. The closed fist to the top of the ear with maximum force. Then she got up and, with her right hand, grabbed his hair, said,
‘Nobody, and I mean fucking nobody, calls me a whore.’
With her left hand, open palmed, she slapped his face four times, leaving fingermarks on his cheeks, said,
‘Now that is an infringement. I want you to apologise to Emily, to me, or I’ll tear your fucking head off.’
She turned to the group, asked,
‘All right, people?’
They roared:
‘All right, Falls.’
I can’t stay home. I decide to go to the drop zone and do a jump, hear all the talk, survive it, or give myself up. I want the fear of death. I want to feel those last few seconds, to let fate have another chance at me.
FALLS AND NELSON were sitting in the car, outside Fern House. Her packed bag was in the back seat; he was trying to suppress a grin, went,
‘So you whacked him pretty good?’
‘Up the side of the head.’
He paused, then:
‘Always the best place.’
She’d expected him to blow, his reaction now was a complete surprise. She asked,
‘They wanted me out?’
‘And fast.’
‘So what now, jail?’
He reached behind the seat, took out a parcel, said,
‘For you.’
‘A present?’
‘Yeah, I guess.’
Unwrapping it, she saw a heavy wooden frame, the dark wood gleaming. Inside the frame was a sign that read:
He smiled, said,
‘To tell the truth, the guy didn’t want to part with it. Said the sign had been in the window since Romero’s opened. I didn’t really want to know how long that might have been.’
She took a deep breath, then:
‘So, now what?’
‘Well, I better get you home and maybe, you’ll ask me in for a drink.’
‘Okay.’
As he put the car in gear, he said,
‘I thought we might... try... and start over.’
She didn’t answer for a long time till,
‘I don’t know if there’s such a thing as second chances. It’s hard enough first time.’
He tried to keep the disappointment from his voice, said,
‘Yeah, I thought I’d ask is all.’
She punched his shoulder, said,
‘Jeez, don’t give up so easy, where’s your fight at?’
Later, that night, lying in bed, he said,
‘That was awesome.’
‘It’s rehab, makes you hot.’
She got out of bed, went to the kitchen, got two beers. The thought of a fast line surfaced but she bit down hard, went back to the bedroom. He was propped up on one elbow, said,
‘I better tell you what’s been happening with The Blitz.’
‘They’ve caught him?’
‘Not exactly.’
He went over the whole series of events and she didn’t once interrupt. He concluded with:
‘Weiss is holed up in some posh London hotel with The Tabloid picking up the tab. Any day now, we’ll be treated to his exclusive story.’
Falls put her beer down, said,
‘You seem certain he’s the killer.’
‘Not just me. Brant, Porter Nash, the Kensington guys, they all swear he’s the one.’
They were silent and he said,
‘Lots of loose talk about someone maybe doing the job themselves, shooting the fuck.’
She was shaking her head, going,
‘No, no.’
He shrugged, said,
‘I suppose you’re right. A cop taking the law into his own hands isn’t exactly the ideal solution.’
She took his face in her hands, looked right at him:
‘You misunderstand. I’m not against that; it’s the shooting I disagree with... it should be a hammer.’
Mcdonald was waiting for Roberts. He thought about what the Chief Inspector had said.
‘We’ve solved the murder.’
He had run it through a hundred times. If Roberts suspected it was McDonald, then he’d already be sitting in a cell. So, someone else, by some bizarre turn of events, had found themselves in the frame. Roberts had laid the killing on another. McDonald asked himself,
‘Am I going to let some poor bastard take the rap for me?’
He was already afraid of the answer. Before he could torture himself further, Roberts arrived, said,
‘My office.’
They went in and Roberts said,
‘Shut the door.’
His desk was cluttered in papers. He moved them aside, said,
‘Bad news.’
McDonald figured it was to do with his suspension. He was almost relieved his punishment hadn’t been reversed. Roberts continued:
‘The murder, I was sure I’d solved it. A friend of the dead man looked set for it: he owed him money, was seen arguing with him, but it turns out he has an alibi. I checked and it holds up. Solving that case would have done us a lot of good. I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Yeah, I got your hopes up and I know it was personal for you. We’ll keep the case open but it’s looking like one of those random things and they’re the hardest.’
‘Yes, sir.’
McDonald tried not to let the relief show; he wanted to cheer. Roberts looked at the pile of files, said,
‘We’ve plenty to keep us busy, though. How about you nip along to the canteen, get us a couple of teas.’
En route, McDonald met the desk sergeant, who went:
‘You’re looking remarkably cheerful.’
‘Just doing the best I can, sarge.’
The guy stared at him, asked,
‘Didn’t you get suspended?’
‘I sure did.’
He moved past and tried to keep the grin off his face. The sergeant watched him go, muttered,
‘The new breed, what a bunch of tossers.’
The Interview