Cast Iron: You can run but you can't hide... (Julia McAllister Victorian Mysteries Book 2) by Marilyn Todd

Cast Iron: You can run but you can't hide... (Julia McAllister Victorian Mysteries Book 2) by Marilyn Todd

Author:Marilyn Todd [Todd, Marilyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2019-10-20T07:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER 16

Three times Collingwood had been rendered numb, dumb, frozen to the spot in situations that no amount of police training could possibly have prepared him for.

The first time was three and a half years into the force, when he and several fellow peelers had been wetting the head of Constable Trigg’s first baby in the Three Tuns public house on Meade Street. The entire group had taken off their arm bands, to signal that they were no longer on duty, which was just as well considering the vast quantities of ale sunk during the course of the evening. After the celebrations, the various parties went their different ways, but in a comparatively small jurisdiction, it was inevitable that several would take the same route before splintering off.

Had he and the new father not stopped on the corner to continue the banter with another officer before heading off together in the same direction, living, as they did, two streets apart, or perhaps if they’d dallied longer, the night would have turned out very differently. Instead, he and Jimmy Trigg linked arms across one another’s shoulders, took two diagonal steps to the left, two diagonal steps to the right, then zigzagged up Cadogan Street singing vulgar words to popular songs, completely unconcerned about the life-threatening hangover that would await them in the morning.

They were into the second verse of the third song, or possibly the third verse of the second song — memories blur after a while, especially after that amount of beer — when they heard the rattle. In those days, of course, that’s all policemen had to raise the alarm. A heavy oakwood ratchet, swung round by its handle. Eleven years ago, whistles superseded the rattle for a number of reasons, not least because they were lighter and less cumbersome, and couldn’t be wrested from the officer and used as a weapon against him. The greatest advantage, though, was that their piercing shriek carried twice as far, meaning that when he and Jimmy heard the rattle, they knew the emergency was close.

The two sobered instantly, following the sound to a respectable terraced house where a domestic dispute was in full swing, lights blazing and the front door open to reveal a bull of a man in his shirt sleeves, with his fists bunched and his face red and twisted with anger. Cowering on her knees against the wall, hands over her head for protection, was a woman whose blouse was torn, and whose nose, face and neck streamed with blood. Between the pair, an embattled constable was doing his best to prevent further injuries by trying to push the husband back with one hand and reaching for his truncheon with the other. Strong as he was, his efforts were no match for fury and brute strength.

‘Whore!’ The husband swatted the policeman aside like he would a wasp. ‘You dirty, filthy slut!’ And just like any annoying wasp, when the policeman came between the two of them again, he laid him out with a single punch.



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