Authors: Summer Jordan
“Backbreaking this.”
“A good excuse to let Serge give you a nice saucy massage later.”
“Might just be a good idea.”
“Just don’t ask Bruce.”
Tanya chuckled as she held the small of her back. “How did you guys first meet?”
“Me and Bruce? Well, we met at a young farmers dance.”
“Did he have his beard then?”
“Oh, come on girl, will ya?” Beatrice chuckled. “I’ve hated that beard for years, but it’s kind of grown on me. I just accept it I suppose.”
“Really?”
“Oi, stop it.”
“I can see that he is quite handsome behind the beard.”
Beatrice stopped polishing a ceramic dog and glanced at the ceiling. “Oh he is, believe me.” She glanced back down and began polishing with the yellow cloth. “But he loves the damn thing. So who am I tell him to shave it off.”
“When was the last time you saw him clean shaven
.”
“Our wedding.”
“Your wedding? How long ago was that?”
“Thirty six years and
… sixteen days.”
“Oh my God.”
“Has it always been busy like Gandalf?”
Beatrice smiled as she reminisced. “No, it was trimmed and quite stylish for the late
sixties and seventies.”
“Yeah, it wouldn’t be too bad trimmed.”
“But over recent years he’s just let it grow. He tells me it keeps him warm in the winter.”
“We’ll see what some girl power can do.”
“Girl power?”
“Ask one of your daughters, they’ll remember.”
The two detectives dejectedly walked through the multi storey car park. Bentham
sighed as he unlocked his car with his remote. “Can’t believe we’re going back South empty-handed.”
Norman opened the passenger door and sat inside. “Going to be a little
embarrassing when we get back. The Chief isn’t going to like it.”
“Tell me about it. He’s already given me an earful over the phone.”
“Still, maybe if we crack Vladimir’s CD, then it might get the ball rolling again.”
“Nothing to report on that yet
, though.”
* * * *
The motorway stretched out for miles ahead. The black tarmac carved through the rolling green of the Scottish lowlands. Red tail lights of the cars ahead were in contrast with the white light of the oncoming cars on the opposite lane. Norman noticed the speedometer was cranked a dozen miles over limit. “In a hurry?”
“No.”
“Nearly doing ninety. Last thing you need is a few points on your license.”
“Don’t worry about me, get some sleep.”
“It’s Roxy, isn’t it?”
Bentham smiled. “Maybe.”
“She might not be home, though.”
“I hope she is.” Bentham glanced in her rear-view mirror as he switched lanes. “But
even if she isn’t, I can die a happy man after the other night with her.”
“Sounded pretty darn brutal to me.”
“I doubt my back will ever be the same.”
* * * *
The sun had fallen and the street was clouded in darkness. A bleep was followed by the yellow flashing indicators on the Jaguar as Bentham walked the short path to his suburban semi. He opened his front door and slammed it behind him. “Rox, how come you didn’t reply to my text this morning? Dropping his sports bag on the floor, he shouted up the stairs, “Are you around?” Walking from room to room he found nothing but his own reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sighing to himself he disrobed and threw his clothes over the towel rail. “Another fucking frozen pizza”.
The grease stained pizza box sat by his feet. A cold beer in hand and stripped to his vest and boxers, he sat slumped in front of the television. Spatters of ketchup and cheese trailed down his vest. The stress and disappointment over the course of the previous few days had taken their toll on him. Exhausted, Bentham fell asleep.
A thud from upstairs caused him to stir from his light sleep. Another thud was
followed by a faint whisper from upstairs. He stood from the armchair and grabbed the pizza cutter from the box. Carefully opening the door, he crawled through before stealthily climbing the stairs. Waiting at the bedroom door, he listened in, but heard nothing. Taking a deep breath, he barged inside glancing in both directions. Standing in the darkness, Bentham failed to see the shadowy figure lurking behind the door.
“Gotcha
!”
“What the..?”
A screaming banshee jumped on his back causing Bentham to scream and drop the pizza cutter. He rammed backwards, crushing his assailant against one wall and then another. Grabbing the attacker’s bony arms he pulled and flipped the stranger over his shoulders, before landing a punch in the dark.
A familiar female voice screamed in agony. “What the fuck
, Dave?”
“Roxanna?”
Roxanna kicked out, striking Bentham in his thigh. “That hurt, you bastard! Right in my gut.”
“Shit, I’m really sorry, Rox.” Bentham switched on the light. He saw Roxanna curled
up on the bed, holding her stomach. “Where did you come from?”
“I was hiding.”
“Why would you do that? You scared the shit out of me.”
“I wanted you to think that I’d gone
… and then I’d give you a nice surprise.”
The bed creaked as Bentham sat beside her and rubbed her belly. “You nearly gave
me a heart attack.”
“I just want you to miss me.”
Bentham shook his head and stared at the eggshell blue carpet. “I was devastated.”
“So devastated that you fell asleep?”
“I wasn’t.”
“Dave, I could hear you snoring.”
“I was heartbroken, It’s just that I was so tired after work.”
Roxanna slapped Bentham’s shoulder. “Whatever. All you care about is work.”
“Look. Don’t start this again.”
Roxanna rolled on her side, and stared at the ivory wall. “Jose's selling his bar.”
“I thought he was just a barman?”
“He owns it, Dave.” Roxanna sighed. “Do you ever listen to me?”
“Anyway, what about the Spanish twat.”
“Portuguese, he’s Portuguese”
“Whatever he is, he’s still a twat.”
Roxanna muttered quietly. “He’s moving back to Lisbon.”
“So that’s why you came back to me…. He won’t take you with him.”
“He is married.”
“Oh, the irony.”
“He told me he would give me a decent price on his bar.” Roxanna sat up and
smiled. “Anyway, it got me thinking, would you want to buy it and run it with me?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m run off my feet with the force.”
Roxanna massaged Bentham’s shoulder with her fingers, “I was thinking you can give up your job. Start again with me.”
“I can’t, it’s my life.”
Roxanna let go of his shoulder and folded her arms. “I knew that was what you were going to say.”
“Then why ask?”
“It’s a great little business, loyal customers, has an annual turnover of at least a hundred fifty grand.”
“I love the force though, you know I do.”
“Don’t you love me though?”
“Yes, yes, you know I do.”
Roxanna glared at Bentham. “You have given the force almost twenty years. So if you do love me, give me some time. I’ve been patient enough for all those years.”
“Have you fuck, you fucked Jose... and he’s the only one you admitted to. I’m sure there’s more.”
“There isn’t.”
“How much would it cost us?” Bentham laughed. “Fuck, listen to me.”
“Why are you laughing?”
“How would you exactly pay for a business like that?”
“We have savings and we can sell the house.”
Bentham stood from the bed. “Sell the fucking house, it’s mine now?”
“The bar has a nice flat, really done up well too.”
“I suppose that is where he was scuttling you wasn’t it?”
Roxanna stood face to face with Bentham. She tapped his chest with the palms of her hands. “Look we’ll get a new bed. It will be fine.”
“But
it will be like going right back to square one.”
“Exactly.”
“No, forget it.”
Roxanna garbed his crotch. “Come on please. Don’t make me beg you.”
I’m a detective.” He felt Roxanna slip her hand into his boxer shorts. “I’m … I’m …” He closed his eyes. “No, not this again.”
“You’re a c
lub owner … Just think of all the drunk pretty girls you’ll be serving.”
“Please.”
“Impressing them with your detective stories.”
Bentham felt her tighten her grip “You’re a naughty girl, Roxanna.”
“You’re nice and hard. Do you want me to get your handcuffs?”
“When do I have to find the money?”
Roxanna pushed him on the bed. “We’ll talk business later….”
“One thing.”
“What?”
“Tell me the truth, if the fucking greasy
-haired spic didn’t fuck you off. Would you be here now?” Bentham watched Roxanna pull down his boxers with her teeth. “Rox.”
“What?”
“Are you here just because he let you go?” Roxanna began rubbing hand down Bentham’s penis, but yelped as he slapped her hand way. “Answer me.”
“I’m sorry
… I’m really sorry about what happened.”
Bentham pulled his boxers back up his milk bottle legs. He stepped over the sobbing
Roxanna. “I knew it.”
“I’m your Persian princess, remember?”
“You were until you joined bloody Gomez’s harem.”
“Jose
…. How many times do I have to tell you?”
He pointed to the door. “Come on, pack up and fuck off.”
“No.”
“If you stay then let me continue to police.”
“All right, forget the club.” Roxanna climbed on the bed. “But you have to let me tie you up … and I get to do whatever I want with you”
Bentham pulled his vest over his head. “Sounds fair enough to me.” He opened the cupboard. Now where are those cuffs
?”
Norman opened his front door. He stepped inside, rattling the door shut behind him. On opening the living room door he was blinded by the lamp from his aquarium’s up-turned lid. “Stupid maid, I’ve told her to leave the fish while I’m away.” Standing at the tank he grabbed the lid. A sharp blow to his head caused Norman to lean forward before a cold hand on his neck forced his face into water. His heart pounded in his chest as he panicked, sending bubbles to the surface. Exhausted, his eyes close over as he became deprived of oxygen.
Coughing and spluttering, Norman was pulled from the aquarium and thrown on the floor. Norman’s eyes were glazed over as he lay on the floor. Igor, holding a flick knife, pressed his Doc Martin boot on Norman’s chest. As Norman’s lungs filled with air, his eyes began to refocus. He saw Vladimir squatting beside him, his face parted by a menacing grin. “Vladimir?””
“Hi there, I just thought your fish needed feeding
…. But not even they seemed interested in you.''
“What are you doing here?”
“Just thought I’d pop by and see how you spent my money.” Vladimir stood and swaggered around the living room. He dismounted a cricket bat from a plaque. “You spent my hard-earned cash on this?”
“It’s an investment
…. it’s from a victorious Ashes tour.”
”I hate fucking cricket.”
“A little patience and you can find it very rewarding.”
Vlad practiced a swing. “It’s a bit like you.”
“Me?”
Vladimir
swivelled the bat in his hands. “It’s boring, takes fucking ages for something to happen, and even when it produce, it leaves you feeling very underwhelmed. All in all, it’s a fucking waste of time.” Vladimir began swinging the bat around sending picture frames tumbling off the mantelpiece. He screamed through his lungs as he put the bat through the plasma screen.” I haven’t the fucking time to waste.” Sparks crossed the room like miniature fireworks. “You useless fucking cunt.”
Norman closed his eyes listening to smashing glass and falling furniture. “What else do you
want from me?”
“Take a fucking guess.”
“We don’t know where Tanya is.”
”Forget the slut for now
. Get me my CD by Monday, or it will be your legs next time.”
“OK, I’ll get the CD
.”
“You know what else is useless?”
“What?”
“Fish.” Vladimir smashed the fish tank, causing Igor to jump off Norman as a tidal
wave crashed on top of the hapless detective.
Igor followed Vladimir out of the door. “I happen to like cricket.”
“I’m not surprised, you’re a waste of time too.”
* * * *
The sun shone through the open blinds as Bentham stepped into his office. He took off his blazer and stretched out. “Don’t you just love early spring mornings?” He waited for Norman to answer his questions but he remained silent as he rested his head on his folded arms. “Norm? You OK?”
“Fish tank leaked, emptied all over my floor. Spent all night trying to clean things up,
place is a fucking mess.”
“Want a hand cleaning up? I’ll come around tonight.”
“No it’s OK.”
“The missus can come around and help too.”
“You both an item now?”
“Think so, she’s still as crazy as ever. Her mood is up and down like never before...
Come to think of it, so are her fucking knickers. I never know what’s going to come out of those lips next?”
“Which set of lips?”
“Both.”
Bentham poured black coffee from the percolator. “I think you should have one of these.”
“No thanks.”
“Come on, you look like shit.”
“I’m fine.”
“You have less colour than an IT technician.”
“Talk about technicians
…. The CD. What’s the latest?”
Bentham blew into his steaming mug, before taking a sip from his black coffee. “I’m taking a trip to the lab later on.”
“The bastard needs bringing down. Let’s go now.”
“Can I not finish my brew first?”
“I’ll buy you one on the way if you in desperate need of a caffeine fix.”
Bentham chuckled into his coffee.
“Shit, you must be desperate if you’re offering to pay.''
“Good point, fucking bring it with you.”
* * * *
At the police laboratory, the detectives swiped their cards on the security door, as they walked into the computer lab.
Bentham spotted the woman he was looking for. “Dr Patel.”
“Shobna, please.”
“Shobna, the CD from the Vladimir Petrovic case. What’s the latest, I can’t make head or tail from your emails?”
“Want it in layman’s terms?”
“Caveman terms.”
“The program needs a whole series of complex codes.” Shobna sighed and rearranged the files in her hands. “I’m afraid
we are no closer to gaining access.”
“They found nothing in his apartment then?”
“Or his other property.”
Norman stepped forward. “Could we try?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, can you give us both a copy to see if we can break the code?”
Bentham clipped Norman across the back of the head. “Behave.”
“Fuck off.” Norman glanced at Shobna. “Sorry for the French
. I’ve had a bad night.”
Dr Patel smiled and swiped the security door with her fob. “I’ll prepare two laptops for you.” She backed into the heavy door. ''That’s if you really want to come and have a crack.”
“May as well.”
Bentham sat at one laptop while Norman sat the other. They both stared at the screens, willing something to happen. Bentham frowned at Norman. “I hated IT at school …. This is fucking worse.”
“It’s the only way we’ll get anywhere though.”
“If cyber and tech failed, or anyone else for that matter, what makes you think me and you’ll do it?”
“Sometimes you need luck rather than skill.”
“Luck? I have done the lottery every week since ninety seven… that’s …” Bentham counted his fingers. “That’s a fucking long time. You know how much I won?”
“Not much by the sound of it.”
“I would be happy if I hadn’t won much…. I haven’t won a fucking penny … a fucking penny.”
* * * *
The spring sun had long disappeared from the horizon. The computer lab was lit by unforgiving strip lights. The two detectives were alone. Norman noticed that Bentham seemed engrossed in a sports website. Taking a pen drive from his key ring, he inserted it into his laptop. He watched the flicker of the red LED inside the pen drive as the program downloaded. Closing down the laptop, Norman glanced at Bentham. “It’s past six, wanna call it a day?”
“Sure, was seeing double by the end.”
“Any success?”
“Won a few hands at poker against the computer
… that was about it.”
“Come on
, let’s go.”
* * * *
Norman walked out of the fast food restaurant with the paper bag in his hand. He walked over towards a Porsche and stuck the bag through the window. “Two burgers and fries and a USB stick with your program on it.”Vladimir grabbed Norman by the collar as Igor pointed a shotgun at his face. “A USB?”
“There is no way I could take it
… They'd know it was me. But here’s the good news. It doesn’t matter, they are totally stumped by the CDs.”
“
Why should I believe you?”
“They can’t break into them. I have copied and pasted Tech’s emails with Bentham.”
Vladimir tossed the bag to Igor. “Take a look.” He stared at Norman. “I didn’t think you would pull it off.”
“A bit of patience is all it takes.”
“Patience … Fucking patience …. I have so much patience I could be a fucking special needs teacher.”
Igor shook his head as he peered into the burger box, “Gherkins, boss? Let’s
shoot the bastard.”
“I meant take a look at the USB you fat prick.”