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McLusky fell into a trot on the path across the green. After a few yards he dropped his cigarette and speeded up. The skateboarder looped sharply and moved in the opposite direction. McLusky turned too and jogged back under the trees. Fingering his radio he thought of calling for back-up, then thought better of it. Just a hunch, could be anybody, and by the time they got here … Denims, red scarf. Looked like a red scarf. He was wearing blue, anyway. If he left the park he’d never catch him. McLusky speeded up. Definitely give up smoking. If he caught him and it turned out to be him, he’d quit. His legs ached already. Definitely quit. He had to cut him off without alerting him. When he saw the community police officer cycle back towards him he stopped running, rested his hands on his knees for a second to catch his breath, then he flagged him down, waving his ID.

‘I’m DI McLusky.’

‘CID? I wasn’t aware — ’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Botts, sir.’

‘I need to borrow your bicycle, Botts.’

Community Support Officer Eric Botts hesitated, standing astride his bicycle. ‘I’m not sure, I mean, when will I — ’

‘Get off the damn thing, he’s getting away.’

‘Who, sir? Do you want me to pursue him?’ To Botts, who went swimming on Tuesdays and cycled everywhere, the inspector didn’t look too fit. But he sure looked furious. ‘Okay, here. Third gear’s a bit sticky, mind.’ As soon as he had got off it the inspector dragged the bike around, swung into the saddle and started pedalling away furiously. Botts felt uneasy. He’d never heard of a Detective Inspector McLusky. What if it was a fake ID? You could run up anything on a computer now and laminate it. If so, then he’d just been mugged of his police issue mountain bike. He’d never live that down. He called after the man who was riding his bike straight across the grass now. ‘I’ll just wait here then, shall I?’ No answer. Sod this. He started jogging after him under the trees.

McLusky bumped on to the grass into the dazzling light. Where was the bastard? A glimpse of red on the far side, moving too fast for a walker, was all he could see. McLusky pedalled. As the bike’s tyres left the grass and reached the hard, flat surface of the path he gained more speed. He could see him clearly now, the age was right, the clothing, he was wearing sunglasses, all fitted the description apart from the hair, which wasn’t spiked. So what? It was him and he would cut him off in a minute. How did you make this damn thing go faster? Impatiently he pushed at the gear lever: the gears crunched, the chain raced and became slack. The bicycle rolled to a stop — the chain had come off. McLusky told the square what he thought about it: ‘Crap!’ Then he got off and started wheeling the bike back. The skater was still gliding along the perimeter. He lost sight of him on the other side. The man’s description had been circulated internally, though no one had been told what he was wanted for. ‘In connection with a serious incident’ was the euphemism. Why hadn’t that dopey hobby bobby spotted him then? He wheeled the bike across the grass and back under the trees. No sign of the support officer. This hadn’t turned out to be the stroll he had had in mind.

‘Sir!’ He turned around to the voice behind him. It was Botts. And behind Botts, blissfully unaware, approached the skateboarder, doing a showy slalom around the promenading people.

McLusky pointed. ‘Botts, stop that skateboarder!’

The officer turned around, walked into the man’s path and opened his arms wide. ‘Stop, police!’ The skateboarder careered past him with an easy manoeuvre and turned the speed up, looking panicked across his shoulder at the officer.

‘Not like that, Botts.’ McLusky picked up the bicycle and threw it at the skateboarder just as he whizzed past him. It hit him at waist height and sent him sprawling on to the tarmac. ‘Like that!’

Botts trotted up. ‘Sir, my bicycle.’

The skateboarder groaned as he disentangled himself. He remained sitting on the ground, massaged a wrist and bellowed at his assailant: ‘You fucking maniac!’

McLusky held out his ID for him. ‘The nice officer asked you nicely. I’m not so nice, of course.’ He wagged a finger. ‘Motorized skateboards — not allowed in the park.’

‘You can’t be serious. I could have cracked my skull open.’

‘Yeah, that’s another thing. No helmet, so I thought I’d have a word.’

‘You’re nuts. I’m going to sue you for assault. I’ll have you investigated and thrown off the force.’

Botts went to help him up. ‘Calm down. What’s your name, sir?’

‘I’m going to sue him for endangering my life — ’

‘Up you get.’

‘I don’t need any fucking help. I can’t believe this.’

McLusky briefly wondered how his method of stopping skateboarders might go down with the super. Not so well if he had got the wrong man, perhaps. ‘Actually, you might be an important witness. Tell us your name.’

‘It’s John. Witness to what?’

‘Any other names?’

‘John Kerswill.’

The name rang a distant bell. Ah, yes. ‘You wouldn’t be in any way related to Joel Kerswill?’

‘What if I am?’

‘Well?’

‘He happens to be my son.’

‘Visited him lately?’

An hour later McLusky still kept up the pressure on John Kerswill in interview room 2. ‘You were seen near the Knowle West bomb, shortly before a man died in his car there.’

‘I told you I live near there now. I must have been just testing it out, I don’t often ride in the street, only when I’ve been working on the engine. The new electric board needs no work at all, of course.’

Austin couldn’t contain himself. ‘We’re very happy for you.’

McLusky impatiently flicked at a file of photographs containing pictures of the bomb victims. ‘Come on, Kerswill, the jury is never going to believe that, it’s too much of a coincidence. You just happened to be right there on Brandon Hill moments before the bomb went off, too? And you skated right past your own son.’

‘I didn’t know that, did I? I didn’t see him. It really was coincidence. Stuff like that happens all the time.’

‘Are you telling me you didn’t recognize your own son?’

‘I didn’t really look, did I? I was skating. People just sort of become obstacles, you don’t look at what they look like, really, you’re busy skating.’

Austin nodded knowingly. ‘People become obstacles. Of course with bombs going off in parks you might have fewer obstacles to avoid.’

‘When the bomb went off, where were you? How far away?’

‘Already at the bottom of the hill. Nearly. Close to the exit.’

‘Did you go back?’

‘Yeah. A bit. But not close.’

‘Why not?’

Kerswill took a sip of polystyrene tea. He stared at the grey liquid left in the cup and shrugged. ‘I’ve been sort of avoiding things. I thought people might be after me.’

‘For …?’

‘Child Support. They do go after people.’

‘The story of your son’s injuries was plastered all over the front page. Did you visit him in hospital?’

‘I couldn’t, could I? And it said he’d only been lightly injured.’

‘Well, I myself did visit your son in hospital. And I met your wife. She wanted me to pass on a message in case I ever ran into you.’