Girls by Bill James

Author:Bill James
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Countryman Press
Published: 2007-08-24T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Mid-evening, Harpur left headquarters and went home. For most of the day, he had sat in as observer while Francis Garland interrogated two men picked up at the Chilton Park ructions. Garland knew about interrogating. He had a delicate but believable way of convincing any prisoner that Francis could put him very much further into the shit than he already was in if he failed to cough intelligently. This kind of persuasion had to be delicate because the interviews went on to tape and might be available to the defence at trial. There must be no flagrant pressurizing, or judges grew bug-eyed and niggly. Bye-bye third degree, Hello! Hello! subtlety. Garland seemed young enough to adapt easily. Erogenous Jones had been the supreme interrogator, of course, but Erog was dead from a knife wound delivered on Iles’s lawn in Rougemont Place – though not by Iles – a fair while ago now.* Francis might soon get near Erog’s standard. What the interrogations confirmed so far was that a range of new firms, besides the Albanians, had been working the Morton Cross area, some of them adopting the Alb tactic of running not just drugs but girls. The names were fairly familiar by now: Tommy the Strong, Bobby Sprale, Adrian Cologne.

When Harpur reached Arthur Street only Jill was in the house, watching boxing on television, but Hazel and several of her friends arrived soon afterwards, probably after one of their regular meet-ups at the central bus station café. The area had become a bit of a haunt for kids of her vintage. Hazel could cycle there in ten minutes: one of the pluses from living inner city, if getting to bus station sessions was a plus. Harpur did wonder. She must have walked her bike back with the girls. Apparently, they’d come here to rehearse scenes from a play they had to perform in Drama class at John Locke. Jill switched off the bout. ‘But we’ve already had some drama, Mr Harpur,’ Simone said.

‘That right?’ he said.

‘Hazel on the caff balcony, like Juliet – that’s Juliet in Romeo and Juliet,’ Simone said.

‘I’d have guessed,’ Harpur said.

‘By William Shakespeare,’ Simone said.

‘Well, yes,’ Harpur said.

‘He’s giving you irony, Simone,’ Jill said. ‘Because – like – well, most know Romeo and Juliet is by William Shakespeare. Although dad is police he’s not ignorant on some things. For instance, I’ve heard him mention literature. And he looked up John Locke in a book and found he wrote about human understanding, which is why they called the school that, because we’re human and the school tries to make us understand, although it’s a comp. This room used to be full of books. My mother’s. Titus Andronicus, James Thurber, La Peste. Real volumes. We had to chuck them, or most. They got on everyone’s nerves.’

‘Stupid people, that’s all,’ Hazel said.

‘Who?’ Harpur asked.

‘In a Clio,’ Hazel said.

‘Who?’ Harpur said.

‘Men,’ Hazel said.

‘You know what they’re like, Mr Harpur,’ Rose said.

‘Who?’ Harpur replied.

‘Men in a car,’ Rose said. ‘If they see a girl on a sports bike.

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