Mr. Love and Justice (3 page)

Frankie Love and the girl sat in a café (known to the local girls as ‘judge’s chambers’) waiting for the arrival of the solicitor’s clerk. ‘Now, I don’t know,’ Frankie said, ‘why you want to mix
me
up in all your bits of trouble.’

‘Trouble? It’s not trouble! Anyway, you’re my friend, aren’t you?’

‘I’m your friend, yes, but until I get a ship or even a job I want to keep clear of law, and courts, and solicitors – the lot.’

She laughed. ‘Oh, don’t be so silly, Frankie! This isn’t
trouble
! A soliciting charge? I’ve had dozens of them.’

‘Then what you want me here for?’

She looked at him seriously. ‘Well, Frank,’ she said, ‘this
is
a bit different as a matter of fact: it is a bit dodgy, and I felt the need of a pal around to give me courage.’

‘Courage to do what?’

‘Well, I’m not pleading guilty this time for once.’

‘You usually do?’

‘Always. In the first place I almost always
am
, in the second, what can you do with magistrates against copper’s evidence? and in the third – well, if you plead not guilty it’s a fiver instead of forty bob: or if the charge was hotted up to something worse, he might even send you to the Sessions.’

‘Who might? What Sessions?’

‘The magistrate. And if he did the law would have a barrister, and juries just don’t like whores – however often some of them have had a go with one of us.’

‘Why you taking a chance, then?’

‘Well – just because I’m sick of it!’

‘Of what?’

‘I’ll tell you. There’s a young fellow – vice-squad copper – who’s always asking me to take him home for free. Well, some of the girls do that – but I just won’t: not if I don’t
like
the feller, anyway. Last time he said, “Do what I say, or else.” And this is the “or else”: he’s bringing a charge.’

‘The bastard!’ Frankie cried, genuinely revolted. ‘That’s not right!’

‘I don’t think so either.’

Frankie pondered. ‘But he’ll get you all the same, from what you say.’

The girl looked round the café and said gently, ‘Perhaps not, you know – it all depends on the date of the alleged offence the charge is for.’

‘How come?’

‘Well, I’ve been having my whatsits this last week. With some of the girls that makes no difference – they just ram in some cotton wool and soldier on. But me, no, I’m particular: I stay at home those days – of which fact I’ve got witnesses.’

‘But baby – he’s not a mug. He won’t bring a charge unless he saw you at it, will he?’

She stared at him, amused. ‘Boy, are you crazy? He wouldn’t even bother to leave his desk! He’d make the charge blind. Against a known and convicted common prostitute? It’s a pushover!’

‘Unless you can prove …’

‘That’s it: an alibi.’

‘I see.’

‘You do? Smart boy! Here comes the shark from the solicitor’s.’

With a cheery wave and a cry of ‘How do, girl!’ there now approached a tall, mackintoshed, somewhat lumbering young man with dark greased hair and a sharp but uncritical regard. He sat at their table, said, ‘How do?’ to Frankie without asking who he was, and called out for a cup of tea and a cheese roll.

‘Money, money,’ he said cheerfully, holding out his hand. ‘The old firm doesn’t even move without a sub.’

From the black bag the girl handed him some notes which he counted, folded each one of them singly, and stuffed in a hip pocket, saying, ‘Ta very much, dear.’

‘It’s we who keep your wife and kids for you,’ the girl told him.

‘Don’t I know it! And the magistrates’! Have you
ever thought of that? What wouldn’t the courts cost the poor old taxpayers if it wasn’t for all you girls and the thousands of forty bobs your little cases attract?’

‘Let’s talk business, son,’ the girl said. ‘We’ll be on very soon.’

He shifted his glasses on his nose and said, ‘Well, I know you girls
never
want to hear advice, which is all we’re really useful for, however, mine is – let’s get it over – please dear, plead guilty.’

‘You know why I’m not.’

‘Oh, I do! And I understand your feelings! But do you
really
want to take the law on single-handed? Do just think a bit of the consequences!’

The girl frowned. ‘Not the law, stupid – only this one feller.’

The clerk looked at her. ‘I’m surprised at you,’ he said. ‘Look! The law may have their internal wrangles and suspicions, and all be ready to shop one another if it means promotions. But to the outside world – and particularly, excuse me being frank, a girl like you – it’s one for all and all for one, they live or hang together.’

‘I think he’s right,’ said Frankie.

‘You do? What do
you
know about it?’ she cried.

Frankie got up. ‘I’ll be seeing you,’ he said. ‘It’s none of my business anyway.’

She grabbed him by the seat of his slacks and yanked him down. ‘Don’t go,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry – I’m wrought up. I always am a bit just after my monthlies.’

There was a pause. Then the lawyer said, ‘Look dear, there’s another aspect. He might have brought this not to
get his vengeance or anything like that, but just because he wanted a little birthday present.’

‘You think so?’

‘Well, it’s possible, isn’t it? Vice-squad boy? Now, if that’s so … I shouldn’t tell you this, my gov’nor wouldn’t like it … why don’t you settle with him? After all: even if you plead guilty it’s forty bob, and if you don’t there’s us to pay as well in addition to all that might happen up at the Sessions if he brought in a brothel-keeping charge or something.’

‘They take bribes?’ said Frankie.

‘Oh, don’t be silly!’ the girl answered.

The lawyer gave Frankie a rather puzzled look. ‘Well, naturally,’ he said. ‘Imagine yourself please, for a moment, in their position. Girls sitting on a gold-mine, you’ve got complete powers of arrest, and the courts believe your word, not theirs. Your wages are maybe twelve or so a week. What would
you
do?’

‘I wouldn’t bring false charges,’ Frankie said. ‘I don’t say I’d be all that particular about everything, but I couldn’t bring false charges.’

The lawyer smiled slightly, and the girl was still silent. Then the lawyer said, ‘Would you like me to see this feller for you?’

‘Isn’t it too late?’ she asked.

‘Oh, to withdraw the charge, it is. But not how it’s pressed … there’s evidence and evidence, you know.’

The girl, suddenly, slammed her bag on the formica table. ‘You’re all a bunch of sharks!’ she cried. ‘I’ll plead guilty – give me back my money!’

‘Now, don’t be silly,’ said the lawyer, his glasses almost falling off his nose in his surprise. ‘You’ve got me down here, and you’ve asked me my advice …’

‘You’d better give it back,’ said Frankie.

The lawyer turned on Frankie Love, completely unimpressed. ‘Now
please
,’ he said. ‘Don’t
you
join in.’

The girl put her hand on Frankie’s arm. ‘He’s right, dear,’ she said. ‘I was a bit vexed, that’s all’ – and she got up.

‘So you won’t be needing me in there,’ the lawyer said, preparing to rise too. ‘If you’re going to plead guilty it’s best for you there’s no defence forces whatever to be seen.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘But stick around, will you, in case there are complications.’

The lawyer nodded, and called for another tea and roll. Frankie said to her, ‘You want me to come with you?’

‘Oh no, dear. But mind this for me, will you? They don’t like to see that we’re not destitute in there.’ And she walked out leaving her bag beside Frankie on the table.

Gingerly, he put it on the seat beside him, the lawyer watching casually. Then Frankie said, ‘Apologies for speaking out of turn just now.’

‘Oh, quite okay! I know how you feel about all this.’

‘How
I
feel?’

‘Well – yes,’ said the clerk, retreating slightly behind his spectacles and munching the second cheese roll. ‘I hope she’ll not be long,’ he added. ‘It all depends where her name is on the list.’

‘You handle a lot of these cases?’

‘Hundreds. And I mean hundreds. My gov’nor deals in vice business almost exclusively, and we’re greatly in demand. And though everyone believes we’re scoundrels (which of course we are – har-har), we do have our uses because, believe me, without a lawyer you’re just a dead duck in advance. With us to help you, you only lose a leg or maybe, if you’re fortunate, a few tail feathers.’

‘What: you work chiefly for these girls?’

‘By no means! Very rarely, in fact – their cases are usually so simple. No. For the vice barons: the gaff landlords and the escort-businesses that handle call-girls and, of course …’ the lawyer dropped his eyes ‘… the easy-money boys, the ponces.’

‘Those bastards.’

The clerk looked up sharply. ‘Yes, those ones,’ he said.

Frankie Love had his hand resting on the girl’s bag. Suddenly, the penny dropped.

‘Here!’ he cried. ‘You think
I’m
one?
Me
?’

‘Well, son – aren’t you?’

Frankie raised his fist and cried, ‘You dirty little lump of shit!’

The lawyer shot back his chair two feet without rising, looked quickly round the café and said, ‘Well, excuse me,
aren’t
you?’

Frankie was impressed by the total sincerity of the lawyer’s complete surprise. He lowered his fist and said, ‘Well, I’ll be buggered! Do I look like one?’

The clerk carefully adjusted his seat and picked up his tea again. ‘Boy!’ he said, ‘who
does
? Just do me a
favour, will you? Just attend the courts for a week and
look
at them. Except for the odd exception, they all look exactly … well, like you and me or anyone at all.’

Frankie laughed. ‘Well, I’ll be fucked!’ he said. ‘Just fancy that!’

‘You use a lot of bad language, son,’ the lawyer said.

‘Excuse me again: I didn’t mean it.’

The lawyer said, ‘Forgotten – excuse
me
, too.’ He paused. ‘What is your profession, then, if I might ask?’

‘Seaman.’

‘Seaman. Got a ship?’

‘No.’

‘Got some other job?’

‘No. Not yet.’

‘Pardon this question: please don’t take it amiss: you ever taken money from that girl?’

There was quite a wait, and for the first time in many years, Frankie blushed. ‘I
have
borrowed a few quid from her,’ he said.

‘
Borrowed
.’

‘That’s what I told you.’

‘All right – all right. Don’t hang me, sailor.’ The clerk stirred his cup thoughtfully, then said, ‘I’m going to tell you something if you want to hear it, but on two conditions. The first is you don’t hit me, please. The second is you don’t tell the girl because, after all, she’s supposed to be my client. Do you agree?’

‘Go on …’

‘You seem a nice boy, and I think I ought to tell you. So here it is. If a vice copper saw you near the courts with
a woman coming up on a soliciting charge, and waiting in a caff holding her bag while she went in, and he knew you’d had money from her, and he knew you’d got no job, he wouldn’t
ask
you if you are a ponce, believe you me! He’d know you
were
one, and a bloody foolish one at that!’

Frankie Love looked at him steadily, then rose and said, ‘Thanks. Would you do something for me, please? Give her this bag. And tell her if she comes near me again I’ll crunch her.’

‘To show you the ropes,’ the Detective-Sergeant had said, ‘I’ll have you go around a while with our star sleuth, as we all call him. He’s a young feller just about your age, a bit too big in his boots for a detective-constable, and chances his arm rather more than I think is wise even in our little line of business. But he’s a good lad basically, and he certainly gets results. Don’t make the mistake, though, of thinking you can get away with everything he does.’

The star sleuth fascinated Edward: he was born to his function like a thoroughbred to the turf, and although so young seemed to know intimately, by instinct, how the whole machinery of the Force could be made to function. During his military service, Edward had noticed the same thing in some young soldiers: there were recruits of only a fortnight who – except for certain gaps of
experience, easily corrected – instinctively
knew
how the whole army functioned: what were the real rules behind Queen’s Regulations, what duties you could ignore, what prohibited manoeuvres you could safely undertake. In appearance the star sleuth was remarkably nondescript (yet another advantage, Edward reflected!) but not, as he soon discovered, in character or skill.

On their first day out together the star sleuth said, ‘Well, I’ve nothing on, let’s just take a walk around.’ The tone, scarcely disguised, suggested that he had a lot ‘on’, and considered Edward’s company an imposition. As they walked round the streets between the Harrow Road and the railway to the west, his companion said absolutely nothing: being one of those rare men who do not feel the nervous urge to talk so as to establish their identity, and who can remain silent without positively appearing to be rude.

Finding this unbearable, Edward commented on it: ‘You’re a man of few words,’ he said, after fifteen minutes of none whatever.

The star sleuth looked sideways as he walked. ‘I can talk quite a bit when necessary,’ he said.

‘Oh, I believe you,’ Edward answered.

‘I’ll tell you something, boy,’ the star sleuth said, stopping at the end of a short road leading to a brick precipice that overhung the railway lines below. ‘I’m not here to
teach
you. As a matter of fact I’ll be frank with you, I’m still learning as well and what I discover I like to keep strictly to myself. But: here’s one tip:
learn
to be silent.’

‘Not shoot off your mouth, you mean? Well, obviously.’

The star sleuth folded his arms upon the wall. ‘More than that,’ he said. ‘Look! Suppose you’ve knocked off a suspect. What do you want to make him do? Talk, isn’t it? Well – and believe me. The best way to do it – and the quickest and the
kindest
(he grimaced) – is to say not a word to him yourself. Not a bloody word. Make him wait, say nothing, just come in and
look
at him occasionally. If there’s one thing most human beings just can’t bear – particularly when they’re sitting in the station – that thing is silence.’

‘Sometimes you have to talk to them, don’t you?’

‘Why?’

‘Well! Well – suppose it’s not a suspect, but a nark or someone who’s come to give you information.’

‘Exactly the same!’

‘Yes?’

‘Yes! I’m telling you. Silence.’

‘Why?’

‘Oh – why? You want me to tell you
why
? Well, that’s a bit hard until you’ve had the experience yourself. But try to get hold of this one.’ The star sleuth stuttered slightly, as if wresting a secret from his breast. ‘
All
men and women you meet professionally are criminals.’

‘
Every
one?’

‘All. If you want to get anywhere you’ve got to treat everyone as such.’

Edward digested this as, below his eyes, the Plymouth Belle racketed by. ‘That’s going a bit far,’ he said.

‘Is it? Well, you know best. Wait and see.’

‘You mean … Say someone comes in to report he’s found a bicycle. You suspect him?’

‘Of course. He’s number one on my list.’

‘It’s a thought …’ said Edward.

The star sleuth dusted his arms, and turned round to lean in the sun with his back against the wall.

‘If you start with that principle,’ he said, ‘you really can’t go wrong. And if you stick to it and are true to it, it will automatically stop you making a lot of other silly beginner’s mistakes.’

‘Such as what?’ said Edward. ‘I’m listening …’

‘I hope so – because sonny, frankly, I don’t want to waste all this if it’s going to be wasted on
you
. Here are some golden rules, then: get out your notebook and write them down if you feel like it. (The star sleuth chortled.) First is – never go to them: make them come to you.’

‘Who?’

‘Anyone. It’s just like football, boxing, bull-fighting – anything. Make them come to you and then you’ve got them.’

‘And if you can’t?’

‘You’re no damn good. Next, never let them get the impression they’re doing the law a favour. Now, suppose someone walks out of that slum there – comes running over – “Officer, I’ve found a corpse!” – this is your big opportunity for a case … don’t thank him, don’t even
answer
, just make him feel he’s done what he’s
got
to do.’

‘Yes, that seems sound.’

‘Oh,
thank
you! Now, number three – and that’ll do
for today, I think –
never
answer questions: always ask them.’

‘Oh, I know that one …’

‘
Do
you? All right. I’m a dear old lady, I come up and say to you, “Constable, can you tell me the way to the Town Hall?” – what do you say?’

‘Don’t I tell her?’

‘Oh – of course! But first you say, “Is it the sanitation department you need, madam, or the rates?” See? Put them on the defensive – always.’

‘Oh. I get it.’

‘No, you don’t – you’ve forgotten something.’

‘I have?’

‘Yes. What else do you say to her?’

‘Well – tell me.’

‘You say, “By the way, madam, it’s more usual these days to say ‘officer’, not ‘constable’.”’

‘Correct, yes, I’d say that.’

‘So there it is. All in a nutshell. Very simple!’

Without warning, the star sleuth started back up the road again. Edward Justice fell in by his side and said, ‘I think some of what you tell me would surprise the old Detective-Sergeant just a little.’

The star sleuth stopped. ‘Oh
him
,’ he said. ‘What does
he
know? He belongs to the generation of PC 49: crafty and tough and not a brain in his thick head.’

‘Take it easy, mate.’

‘I do, Constable!’

They started off again. Ted Justice felt the conversation was now closed, but he had one final question. All you
said about
every
one being criminal,’ he asked. ‘Does that apply to us as well?’

‘Naturally.’

‘To you and me and the Detective-Sergeant?’

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t even trust your colleagues in the Force, then?’

‘Colleagues! I trust them for one thing, and one only. There are exceptions – but in a fight they’re brave and they’re reliable. Alone in a dark lane with a bunch of Teds they won’t stab you in the back – no, they’ll help you come what may. But otherwise …’

His voice and his whole posture and expression showed Edward clearly that the shutters were now down, and should not be prised open any more.

Out in the Harrow Road the star sleuth stopped to gaze around the vital, squalid thoroughfare, and stood as if sniffing the breeze on a safari. Then he walked half a block, went into a tobacconist’s, bought a packet of Senior Service and paused, undoing it, beside the notice-board outside.

On this were handwritten advertisements, some apparently of great antiquity, which mostly offered lodgings with innumerable restrictions. Others invited the purchase of items which no one (except, perhaps, a film studio shooting a Dickens story) would dream of buying. A third category, sometimes with crude photographs, advertised ‘models’. The star sleuth scanned these, then withdrew a bit with Edward Justice.

‘Whores, I suppose,’ said Edward.

‘The strange thing is though, boy, that quite a lot of them actually
are
models. In this fair land of ours there’s loads of kinky characters who just like sitting and
gazing
at a chick’s tits for a couple of quid. Please don’t ask me why.’

‘And that’s quite legal?’

‘More or less, it is.’

‘But some of them
are
prostitutes?’

‘Of course. Nothing illegal about that, either. Under the new act they mustn’t solicit in the streets, and if there’s more than one of them it’s a brothel. Otherwise … it’s just a business: and believe me, half the time we’re called in to protect
them
.’

‘From the ponces?’

‘Not usually … In the first place, a ponce with any sense won’t live with his girl: they’ve two addresses, like any other business couple. And in the second – well frankly, most of the stories you hear about brutal bullies putting innocent teenagers on the streets are crap.’

‘But that does happen?’

‘Oh, yes. With young, or mental, or maybe masochistic girls. Most of the girls are tough and quite intelligent, though. They have to be. And girls of that type simply wouldn’t wear it.’

‘But the men
do
thump them …’

‘Oh, frequently! But that’s part of the kick: it’s all for love!’

The star sleuth took Edward’s arm and said, ‘As we pass again, just take a look at the bottom left-hand corner one.’

Ted did, and he read:

Further along, the star sleuth said to Edward, ‘Well?’

‘I’d say she’s one.’

‘Of course! But what sort of one?’

‘Go on … Don’t tease me, I’m very willing to learn …’

‘Well. “Continental” doesn’t mean she is, but what she’ll
do
. “All poses” rams the point home and “by appointment” says you can tell her what, over the blower, to see if your kinks match up. “Very serious”, of course, suggests the sexual slant in this particular case. New Olympia typewriter with a clean ribbon, so she’s possibly expensive.’

‘In this area?’

‘Why not? Where whores are concerned there
is
no fashionable section if she’s good – I mean for where her gaff actually is. Anyway, kinky clients like a slum, and respectable gents prefer an area where they’ll not be known.’

‘The notice cost her much?’

‘Pound a week, unless the tobacconist’s an imbecile. For honest landladies, only 2s 6d or something similar.’

‘But, tell me. Doesn’t advertising like that put us on to her?’

‘Why not? It’s legal: and even if not, it’d take every cop in London to trace all the notices on boards … Besides:
put yourself in the poor girl’s place. The new laws make it difficult for them on the streets: so how do they contact their clients – tell me that, please?’

‘No, you go on …’

‘Well: best is, take a chance and go on the streets three months or so, and build up a clientele.’

‘And give them the phone number.’

‘Clever boy – exactly. Then, as we know, there’s the notice-board technique. Another one: a good contact in the drinking-clubs or all-night garages: barman, doorman, owner, anybody.’

‘These pimps take a cut?’

‘Don’t waste my time! Then there’s the escort-businesses – know about them? No? All right: you’re a wool-grower from New Zealand, shall we say. You want to meet a nice friendly young lady for a sociable evening out. You’re with me?’

‘That’s legal too?’

‘Who for, the agencies? Well, lots of the dates they make are kosher. But several of these agents
have
gone inside on procuring charges …’

‘What about Madams?’

‘Ah! Yes, there are those: and respectable clients actually like to deal with them because though it costs five times as much, she irons out all the awkward creases for them. Failing the Madams, a new mystery can also find a successful call-girl who’ll sub-let clients to her at a percentage.’

Edward laughed. ‘We do make it difficult in this country, don’t we!’ he said.

‘That’s probably half the charm: the mugs like it to be awkward and mysterious – but not, of course, too dangerous for them.’

‘So the new laws have made the whole thing harder.’

‘Not really. No, I wouldn’t say so. Who they’ve made it harder for are stupid girls and semi-pros who’ve been knocked out of business because they can’t use the streets any longer. The clever ones have just gone on the phone. And here’s a funny thing: once they’re established with their clients, it’s actually
easier
for them.’

‘It is?’

‘Well yes, it is. Take gaffs. A crooked gaff with the landlord in the know cost forty a week at least with maybe key money in decent areas – when you could get them. That was for street girls. But once you’re on the phone, you can get a straight place just like anyone else for ten a week or so. Of course, if the caretaker or some friendly neighbour rumbles you – out you go! But you’d really be surprised, if the girl’s discreet and chooses her clients carefully, how
little
people notice. You see: English people are nosy, sure enough, as we all know; but they’ve also got a great thing about minding their own business. That’s very valuable to the girls. So with the new laws I’d say this: there’ll be just as much vice, just as many millions spent on it, but fewer women. Conclusion: profits per head – or tail – will rise. That’s all.’

Edward was overwhelmed by this expertise: and, like an anxious angler, handled his companion with the utmost care lest an inappropriate reaction or remark might plunge him back into taciturnity. With prudence,
though, there seemed little danger of this: like many silent men the star sleuth, once started, was a chatterbox, and opinionated (not without reason), and something of a fanatic: which the speed and urgency of his narrow voice conveyed vividly to Edward as they walked on along the Harrow Road.

‘And what,’ Edward asked, ‘about the ponces?’

‘Those bastards,’ said the officer, stopping by the canal bridge.

‘Yes. How do they fit in?’