Bubblegum Smoothie (7 page)

The greying man and the he-she walk away, Gus waving at them from outside the pub.

And then Gus goes inside and the other two disappear in a blue Fiat Punto.

He watches their car leave. Watches it roll away onto the A6, heading towards town.

And then he looks back at the pub. Imagines Gus sitting where he always sits at that corner table, stacking his coins.

He closes his door completely. Closes it and rolls down the windows.

Maybe he won’t get a new toy today. Maybe he’ll find some more fun with his other toy.

But he is going to get himself a new plaything, even if
he
is a little different to the others…

ELEVEN

There were plenty of places I disliked spending my time. Far more than plenty, in fact. Blackpool Pleasure Beach. The M6 motorway. Preston nightclubs.

But the police station just about trumped the lot of them.

Martha and I walked up the steps and went inside through the automatic rotating doors—a nifty new addition considering how “skint” the police department was. The second we walked in, we were greeted by the weird-smelling combination of stale piss and fresh carpet. It’s like they’d relaid the carpet to try and cover up the scrotey footprints around the place, and quite frankly, done a pretty shitty job.

“Home sweet home,” Martha said, in that raspy voice of hers.

I looked over at the desk. Looked at the line of scruffy people queuing up. Woman with the dark thongs on underneath her white trousers—guilty. Man with the sweat patches all down the back of his maroon t-shirt—guilty. All of these scruff-bags were guilty of something. Throw them all inside and lock away the key.

“Now it’s time for me to ask where
your
bloke is,” Martha said.

I looked around—looked at the officers bustling between offices, papers and coffees in hand. Couldn’t believe any of them didn’t recognise me as the man who’d been cuffed up here the other night. Actually, I could believe it. I just struggled to get my head around the idea that these people were anywhere near as inept as Lenny.

“You’ve seriously never met Lenny?” I asked. “Detective Inspector Kole?”

“Uh-uh,” Martha said. “I’d remember a name like Lenny. Don’t get many Lennys walking the streets of Preston nowadays. Then again, we don’t get many Blakes either.”

I didn’t have much trouble resisting the urge to tell Martha that my birth name was Gordon. And like most Gordons born in the height of Jilted John’s hit single, “Gordon Is a Moron,” I was all too eager to change my name as soon as I possibly could. Blake seemed a good idea at the time.

“Oh shit,” I said, noticing Lenny sauntering our way, sunglasses resting atop his head and an iced donut in hand. “Here he comes.”

“
That’s
Lenny? He looks kind of… Hollywood.”

“Wait until he opens his mouth.”

“His teeth look okay from here—”

“Please don’t hit on Lenny Kole. Please, for the love of God, do not hit on Lenny Kole.”

Lenny’s eyes widened as he spotted me, and then he stumbled when he saw Martha.

“Oh, he’s a stumbler,” Martha said.

“Just wait until you hear what he has to say.”

Lenny rushed towards me and Martha. He grabbed me by my shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, Blake. I know we’re friends and all—”

“We’re not friends—”

“But you could at least knock or something. Can’t have you fannying around in here like you live here. Come on. In here.”

He pushed me towards a grey door beside the main desk. He barely registered Martha, not after the initial shock, but she was following and he didn’t seem to object so I figured he recognised her as with me. Probably just working out what to say to a transgender that he was actually being forced to talk with—if he even realised Martha was trans at all.

He stuffed me inside the room, let Martha sneak in behind me. The room was dark, dusty, but a lot cooler than the rest of the building, so that was something.

Lenny slammed the door. Rubbed his hands together, donut wedged in his mouth. “Wa-ing in ‘ere,” he said, struggling to speak around the donut, which he took a bite of, the rest of it hitting the floor. He stood and stared at it. Sighed as pastry rolled down his chin. “What a waste,” he said. “What a bloody waste.”

He reached into his suit pocket. Pulled out a silver disk and stepped over to the Bush CD player. I wasn’t sure what pissed me off more—the fact that he was hovering a DVD over a CD player, or that the CD player was a Bush.

Martha cleared her throat. Glared at me with that “Introduce me then!” look that only a woman could give.

“Lenny, this is, er… my friend and colleague, Martha.”

He rattled away at the CD player. Hit the play button, cursed. “Why won’t this damned thing—”

“You’re putting a DVD in a CD player,” Martha chipped in.

“DVD in a CD player. Right.” He took the disk straight out, like he’d known what he was doing all along, then investigated a pile of dusty old gadgets piled in the corner. “Portable DVD player should be somewhere around… here!”

He yanked out a Medion—oh God, Medion—portable DVD player, and plonked it on the table in the centre of the room.

“What even is this place?” I asked. I looked at the stack of gadgets. Old phones. Coats. A weird mismatch of items.

“Lost property,” Lenny said, clicking “Play” on the DVD player as it booted to life.

“Lost property,” Martha said, Lenny still ignoring her. “More like
found
property for you officers.”

“Who are you again?” Lenny asked, his cheeks blushing as he struggled to look at her.

Martha scoffed. “Wow. You told me he was a charmer, didn’t you Blake?”

Lenny looked at me with hope. ”He said that? He did? He… Oh. Mr and Mrs Sarcasm. Or… Well, Mr and Mr/Mrs Sarcasm, to use the politically correct term.”

I shook my head. “‘Politically correct.’ Brilliant.”

The sound of moaning women filled the room from the tinny speakers of the portable DVD player.

“Oh, shit,” Lenny said. He tapped at the pause button but nothing happened. In fact, the moaning only got louder. “Shit shit shit.”

“
I want you to cum all over my titties
!”

Martha and I tried our best not to smirk too hard. Lenny looked genuinely pissed off.

“Quite a surveillance tape you’ve got there,” Martha said.

“Knock that one up yourself with Ancient Jill and her four teeth?” I put in.

“Just—just shut up,” Lenny said. He tapped at the pause button. Kept on tapping, the volume getting louder.

“Sounds like some real surveillance is going on there.”

“Cavity surveillance,” Martha added.

“
Give me that big cock. Give it to me.
”

“Obviously not Lenny on that tape then,” I said.

Lenny bashed his fingers against the player, his face getting redder and redder. “The wrong damn DVD. The wrong… damn…”

And then he stood up, picked up the portable DVD player and tossed it to the ground.

Martha stepped back. “He isn’t actually gonna—”

But he already did.

Lenny’s foot cracked into the portable DVD player, cracked into it as the tinny speakers fizzled out, smashed it up, grunting every time his black shoe broke through the plastic.

Eventually, there was silence. Silence, and a shitload of broken plastic and metal.

Lenny stepped away. Brought a hand through his sweaty hair and adjusted his tie. “I er… I’ll go get another player and… and the right tape.”

“Probably a good idea.”

He scooted across the room and opened the door.

“Try not to shag Ancient Jill on your way—”

“Thin ice, Blake! Thin ice!”

Martha and I waited around for what felt like forever for Lenny to return. I spent most of my time rolling my eyes at the shitty dated technology stacked up in here.

“If you’re gonna tag tech from a con, why the hell would you tag an Alba sound system?”

“Honey,” Martha said. “Not everyone’s as geeky as you.”

“They should be.”

“No. They really shouldn’t.”

Lenny did come back, eventually. He had a slightly less dated black laptop in his hand, as well as a DVD with “Snow White” written on it.

“‘Snow White?’” I asked, as he placed the laptop on the table.

“Need some kind of a cover,” he said. “Couldn’t just be seen wandering into here with a blank DVD.”

“So of course the first DVD you turn to is ‘Snow White,’” I said. Nodded at Martha. “Logical.”

“Does Ancient Jill star in this version of Snow White?” Martha asked.

“No, she—”

“Do you spray Ancient Jill with your snow—”

“Quit it, the pair of you,” Lenny shouted, his face flushing. “I’m—I’m a Detective Inspector. A detective inspector with morals, principles, authority.”

I wanted to say, “The same morals, principles and authority that’s paying me one million quid to catch a killer?” but I figured I’d done enough Lenny-baiting for one day. Nearly.

“Anyway here we… here we go.”

We all held our breath, Martha and I secretly praying that another porno would appear on screen.

To our disappointment, it was just a shot of the station from the front.

Lenny tapped on the screen. Tapped at the empty car parking space underneath the streetlight. “Here’s the vehicle parking space in question at nine p.m.”

We stood and watched as the seconds and the minutes ticked by in real time. When it got to nine twenty-nine without incident, I was really craving a Halls throat sweet or nine.

“You do know there’s a fast-forward button, don’t you?”

“Ssh,” Lenny said, jabbing a finger out at me.

I tensed my neck at Martha. “Quiet. Wouldn’t want to affect the contents of the screen by talking.”

We waited longer. Waited, as the sky on the tape grew gradually darker. The number of people walking past lessened. Still no sign of the squad car.

“Do you even know what time—”

“There,” Lenny said. He poked a finger so hard at the screen that it discoloured.

But when it readjusted, I saw it.

The squad car moved slowly into the otherwise deserted car park. Pulled up right underneath that streetlamp.

“This better be the right car,” I said.

“Oh believe me,” Lenny said. “It is.”

The car came to a stop. I squinted into the grainy darkness. Waited for our perp to step out.

“Please tell me he’s not a fan of sitting around twiddling his thumbs,” Martha said.

And right on cue, the driver’s door opened.

We all went quiet. Went quiet, as the guy in the driver’s seat stepped out, as he opened the back door, pulled out the girl, placed her on top of the car. All in the eyes of the general public, all on show, right in the police station car park.

And then he wiped his hands against his black hoodie, grinned, and skipped away out of the car park.

“Now that, my friends, is a fat dumbass if ever I’ve seen one. I can’t believe I’m actually paying you a whole million to catch someone this inept. I mean, the
police department
could’ve caught this guy, for God’s sakes!”

My heart pounded as I tried to get my head around what I’d just seen.

Or rather, who I’d just seen.

“That’s… that can’t be your perp,” I said.

Lenny frowned. “What do you mean it’s not our perp? The fatso just lifted a dead girl out of a squad car—a
stolen
squad car, may I add—and plonked her on top of it. If he’s not our perp then—”

“Get someone down to the Black Bull right away,” I said. “Get someone in there and get a man called Gus in for questioning. But don’t… It can’t be him. It can’t be.”

Lenny looked from me to Martha and then back again. “What… who is Gus? Do you… what does Gus have to do with this guy?”

I cleared the frog in my throat. Tried to wrap my head around everything, but it just didn’t add up, didn’t make sense.

“Gus
is
that guy.”

TWELVE

“Get your bloody foot on the pedal. Quick!”

“Alright, alright!” Martha struggled to start the engine of her Fiat Punto, then spun around out of the police station car park. “Why don’t you volunteer to drive next time?”

The car sped out of the car park, and I resisted the urge to shout at Martha any more. I knew what she was getting at. I might have been a good bounty hunter, but one thing I wasn’t good at was driving. I’d only ever passed my automatic test, which caused a few problems when people asked me to reverse their cars for them, things like that. To be honest, I got the impression they did it on purpose.

We sped down the A6 out of town. My mind raced with what I’d seen on the tape—Gus, the coin-stacking fatso, getting out of a squad car. Planting the body of a dead girl on top of it. Walking away grinning.

“I think we can assume Gus isn’t our killer,” Martha said.

“Try telling Lenny and the police that. You think he’s just going to cough up a full million if he catches and pins this guy himself?”

“Normally, I would’ve taken a man’s word. But now I’ve met the guy…”

“Exactly. Which is why it’s very important we get to the Bull very quickly. Do you have any… any sweets?”

“Glove compartment to your left.”

I stuffed my hand into the glove compartment and pulled out a half-eaten packet of Lockets as Martha swung the car around a bend. I squeezed them all out, salivated at the thought of them. The last ones had worked their way out of my system so my throat was constantly tight. I took the wrappers off all of them and crunched down, an instant release pummelling through me.

“Thanks for saving me some,” Martha said. “In fact you can add an extra 50p to my cut for that.”

“Martha, you aren’t getting another penny from me. Let’s just get to the Bull before Lenny’s band of idiots do.”

We sped up the A6. I couldn’t help myself scanning the area for squad cars. Wouldn’t have minded a police light and siren of our own at this point.

“So what do you think?” Martha asked.

“About what?”

“About what? About Gus, you moron. Is he our killer?”

I scoffed. “Do
you
think he’s our killer?”