“So why don’t you just arrest him?”
“On what charge? Apart from the fact that we don’t even know what he looks like. We don’t know his real name, or where he lives. In the trade he’s known as the Viper, but we’ve yet to locate his nest, let alone—”
“How are your wedding plans coming along, Beth?” asked Marjorie, wanting to change the subject. “Have you finally settled on a date?”
“Unfortunately not,” said William.
“Yes, we have,” said Beth.
“Good of you to let me know,” said William. “Let’s hope I’m not on duty that day, or worse, in a witness box trying to nail a hardened criminal who’s being defended by my overpaid father.”
“In which case, the trial will be over by lunch,” said Sir Julian, “and we’ll both be able to make it on time.”
“I need to ask a favor,” said Beth, ignoring them both and turning to Marjorie.
“Of course,” said Marjorie. “We’d be only too delighted to help.”
“Because my father had to spend a couple of years in prison, and as we’ve—”
“A miscarriage of justice that was rightly overturned,” interjected Grace.
“And as we’ve only recently found somewhere to live,” continued Beth, “I wondered if we could be married in your local church?”
“Where Marjorie and I were married,” said Sir Julian. “I can’t think of anything that would give me greater pleasure.”
“How about Miles Faulkner ending up in jail for four years,” suggested William, “and at the same time, Booth Watson QC being struck off the Bar Council.”
Sir Julian didn’t speak for some time. “I’ll have to ask the judge for a recess, as I might have to consider a change of plea.”
“How about you, Grace?” asked William.
“I only wish I could marry my partner in the local church.”
3
“Congratulations, sarge,” said Jackie, joining him at the bar. She had drawn the short straw and only drank a single shandy that night, as she would be driving the newly promoted detective sergeant home. She’d already warned Beth that it wouldn’t be much before midnight.
“Thanks,” William replied, after he’d drained his fourth pint.
“Not that anyone was surprised.”
“Except my father.”
“Time, gentlemen, please,” said the landlord firmly, not least because most of his customers were coppers. Although in truth, once the civilians had departed, they would often enjoy a lock-in, when the landlord would continue to serve the boys and girls in blue. There was at least one pub in every division that had a similar arrangement, which not only added to the publican’s profits, but meant he had no fear of prosecution. However, Jackie still felt it was time for William to leave.
“As you’ve clearly had one too many,” she said, “the boss has recommended that I take you home.”
“But it’s my celebration party,” William protested. “And I’ll let you into a secret, Jackie. I’ve never been this drunk before.”
“Why am I not surprised? All the more reason for me to drive you home. It would be a pity if you were demoted the day after you’d been promoted. Although it would mean I’d probably get your job.”
“My father warned me to watch out for women like you,” said William, as she took him by the arm and led him unsteadily out of the pub to cries of “Goodnight, sarge,” “Choirboy,” and even “Commissioner,” without any suggestion of irony or sarcasm.
“Don’t expect me to call you ‘sir’ and kiss your arse until you’re at least a chief inspector.”
“Do you know where the expression ‘kiss my arse’ comes from?”
“No idea. But why do I have a feeling you’re about to tell me?”