Harmsworth sighed. ‘It’s nice not to get stabbed or bitten for a change, but all in all, it was a bit of an anticlimax.’
‘Aye, that’s enough about your love life, Owen. Keep your mind on the job.’ She handed Tufty another couple of screws.
He turned to Tufty. ‘You know what I mean? We get all dressed up and swarm out of the van and bash the door down and really put the work in.’
‘Hold it steady...’ Screw, screw, screw, screw.
‘The least he could’ve done was resist arrest a little bit. Shown willing.’
Tufty gave the screwed-up door a wiggle — solid as a solid thing — and stepped back. ‘There we go. All done.’
‘Wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? Little effort on his part?’ Harmsworth stared at them for a moment, then shook his head and slouched back towards the van. ‘But what does Owen know?’
Soon as the van door shut, Tufty had a quick look around to make sure no one was listening. Then leaned in close to Steel. ‘Sarge, there wasn’t a mark on Innes. Not a single one.’
‘Course no’.’ She took the drill from his hands. ‘Why would there be?’
‘So what did he do? Your mate, James Grieve? He must’ve done something.’
‘God might move in mysterious ways, Tufty, but he’s got nothing on Big Jimmy Grieve.’ She dropped into a semi-squatting Charlie’s Angels pose, firing off a few vwwwwwwippps with the drill. ‘Now get your arse in the van. We’ve a couple of wee stops to make on the way home.’
Tufty climbed back into the van with his collection of paper bags, their white sides already turning see-through from the greasy treats inside.
He handed a bag to Barrett: ‘One mince, one steak.’ One to Lund: ‘Sausage roll and a bridie.’ One to Steel. ‘Two steak.’ And one to Harmsworth. ‘Chicken-curry pies aren’t ready yet, so I got you a bacon butty and a fondant fancy.’
‘Why does life hate me?’
Phil Innes stared over his shoulder at them from inside his grilled enclosure. ‘That all smells really nice.’
Steel unwrapped a pie and took a big bite. ‘Tough. You’re getting nothing, cos you’ve been naughty.’ She started the engine. ‘Seatbelts, children.’ Then stuffed the pie in her mouth, leaving her hands free to haul the van through a three-point turn, mumbling around the pastry case. ‘One more stop.’
Steel hauled on the handbrake. ‘Everyone remember where we parked.’ She hopped out.
Tufty, Lund, Barrett, and Harmsworth clambered out through the sliding door and joined her around the back of the police van.
‘Sarge?’
‘Barrett, you and Lund are on prisoner escort duty. If you let him run away I will personally skin your intimate feminine areas with a potato peeler, are we clear?’
They nodded.
She clicked her fingers. ‘Constable Quirrel, if you would be so kind as to fetch Mr Innes from the van?’
Tufty wiped the pastry crumbs from his fingers and unlocked the back doors.
Innes peered out at them. He was sitting in the middle of the three rear-facing seats, all handcuffed and seatbelted in. His bloodshot eyes drifted to what was behind them. Widened. He shrank back into his seat. ‘This isn’t the police station. This isn’t the police station!’
‘No, Philippy Willippy,’ Steel grinned, ‘it’s the hospital. You’re paying a visit and you’re paying it now.’
‘Please, don’t! I wasn’t—’
‘Barrett, Lund: get that snottery sack of sick out of there.’
They stepped forward, Lund rolling her shoulders. ‘Come on, you. Out.’
Tufty tugged at Steel’s sleeve, keeping his voice down so no one would hear. ‘Sarge, are you sure this is legal? Cos I really don’t think it’s legal.’
‘Course it’s no’.’ She beamed at him as Phil Innes was hauled out of the van’s cage. ‘But Philippy Willippy isn’t going to tell anyone. Are you, Philippy?’
Innes just bit his bottom lip and shook his head.
‘Good boy.’ She turned and sauntered towards one of the hospital’s side entrances. ‘Off we go.’
They frogmarched Innes in through the doors and over to a bank of scuff-fronted lifts.
The doors juddered open and they all stepped inside, Phil Innes squeezed between Lund and Barrett. Sweating. Fidgeting as the lift clunked and rattled upwards.
Lund poked him. ‘Stand still.’
The lift creaked to a halt and the doors slid open again.
Steel was first out. ‘From here on it’s radio silence. No whinging, moaning, or making fun of Constable Harmsworth.’
He sniffed, nose in the air. ‘About time too.’
‘You can save that for the way back down again.’
‘Hey!’
But she was off, marching down the corridor.
Lund and Barrett did their frogmarching trick again, scooting Innes along after her. All the way down to the private room at the end.
Steel stuck a finger to her lips then pointed at the lot of them. ‘No’ a sodding word, understand?’
Everyone kept their gobs shut.
‘Good. Keep it that way.’ Then she slipped into Mrs Galloway’s room.
Tufty stepped up to the window.
Mrs Galloway made a thin frail figure in the bed, lying beneath the sheets, every visible inch of skin a rainbow of bruises. And Steel wasn’t the only visitor. Big Jimmy Grieve sat in the chair on the far side of her bed, head buried in a book.
He looked up at Steel and nodded. Said something.
She said something back. Then turned to the poor battered old lady. Steel’s lips moved, but it was impossible to hear what she was saying. Then she waved at the window.
They were on.
Lund gave Innes another poke. ‘I’m watching you, sunshine.’
He really didn’t look well. Pale and clammy. His whole body trembling.
They all shuffled inside, Tufty and Innes at the front.
Soon as everyone was in and the door closed, Tufty took out his key and undid the cuffs.
Innes made a little squeaky noise.
‘Right.’ Steel folded her arms. ‘You’ve got something to say to Mrs Galloway, haven’t you?’
‘I’m...’ Innes sounded more like a spanked child than a loanshark. ‘I... I’m very, very sorry for what I’ve done. I’m... I’m a horrible, horrible person.’
Big Jimmy Grieve stared at him. ‘Keep going.’
‘Keep going... Right.’ He licked his lips. Then pulled an envelope from his inside pocket. A standard one — the kind you could fit an A4 sheet of paper into if you folded it in three. Only there was a lot of paper in this one. It was about an inch thick. ‘And... and I want you to have this.’
He edged forward, the envelope held out at arm’s length, keeping as much hospital bed between himself and Big Jimmy Grieve as possible. Placed it on the covers by her broken arm.
Mrs Galloway just looked at it.
Innes shrank back away from the bed again. ‘Three thousand, two hundred, and seventy pounds. All yours. I...’ His eyes drifted from the envelope to Big Jimmy Grieve for a second, then snapped down to stare at his own hands, clenched in front of his groin. ‘I should never have charged you interest on a loan. That was illegal and I had no right doing it. I’m really, really sorry.’
A nod from Big Jimmy Grieve. ‘And?’
‘And I won’t do it again?’
That quiet still note slipped into the big man’s voice again. ‘Try harder.’