Asking For It

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Rafferty’s Ma rang him up just as he turned off Bacon Lane and into the police station car park. He answered quickly, asked her to wait while he parked up, then picked up his mobile again. ‘Okay, Ma?’

She ignored his question and immediately got to the nitty-gritty. ‘Well, Joseph. Did you see them?’

Rafferty agreed that he had.

‘And? What happened? Are they friends again?’

‘Not exactly.’ Far from it. But he wasn’t admitting that to Ma. Since his dad had died when he was eleven, as the eldest, he had felt he had to support Ma and the rest of the family. So as a kid he’d worked down the market on a Saturday, though he had to make himself scarce when the cops came round and had a couple of paper rounds to bring money in as best he could. Ma had worked there too, until she’d retired. It was her that had got him the job. It was hard, physical work, heaving veg on to the barrow, then wheeling it to their allotted space, but it was fun, too. Though, of course, an eleven-year-old boy didn’t have anything like the earning capacity of a grown man—even a drunkard like Da. It was the reason Ma had turned to “bargains” – off-the-back-of-a-lorry goods that came at a price she could afford – that now he was a cop himself, were the bane of his life.

‘But at least I’ve got them to agree to meet tonight in The Wheatsheaf.’

‘A pub? Is that a good idea?’

Probably not. After his Da’s fondness for drink, his Ma, having read in the paper that a preference for drink was inherited, had kept an eye on them and warned them when necessary. After his last warning Rafferty had successfully cut back. But as it was only the lure of him providing conciliatory free beer all night that would get his brothers there...

‘Not that I’m finding fault. I’m sure it’s doing your best that you are. But I—’

‘Don’t worry, Ma. I’ll make sure they don’t drink so much that they start punching one another.’ Especially as he’d be doing the buying. Whether they started punching him was another matter. Patrick Sean was an aggressive drunk, so he’d have to watch him, whereas Mickey tended to turn giggly, then fall asleep.

‘Well, as long as you can persuade them to be friends again, Joseph. You know how it upsets me when you children have a falling out.’

‘They’ll be friends again in no time, Ma, don’t worry.’ As he uttered the conciliatory platitude, Rafferty glanced up. Superintendent Bradley was standing at his office window watching him, his face like a slapped arse. ‘I’ve gotta go, Ma. I’ll sort them out.’ Even if he had to bang their mulish heads together.

Meanwhile, he had a murder investigation to lead.

***

HE CROSSED THE YARD and entered the police station. He went through to the front reception area to tell Bill Beard he was back. But he was on the phone, so Rafferty waved his hand, and was about to go upstairs, when Beard’s finger beckoned.

Beard finished his conversation and put the phone down. ‘Who’s Mr Popular today?’

Rafferty raised his eyebrows and waited. But Bill took his time. He made a note of his phone conversation. Then, with a frown, he crossed it out, and made another, ignoring Rafferty’s, ‘Come on, Bill, for Christ’s sake. I haven’t got time for your little shenanigans.’

Bill looked up and smiled innocently. ‘Your favourite person asked for the pleasure of your company, that’s all, my duck.’ He put his head down and frowned again at his correction. ‘Soon as. If you’d be so kind.’

A curl of unease started in his belly. Bradley, his bête noire, had dumped this latest murder on him just over an hour ago, but now wanted to see him. Why? It had to be something else. ‘What does that bastard want?’

Beard looked up and tutted. ‘You still here? You want to jump to it, sharpish, when your master calls.’

‘Bollocks.’

‘I’ll tell him you said that, shall I?’ Bill licked his pencil. ‘“Inspector Rafferty said, B—”’ He looked up. ‘How are you spelling that?’

‘With two x’s.’

The only thing that had happened in between, as far as he was concerned, was his brothers’ little squabble over their missing stock. He had half a suspicion what this missing stock might be. Bradley wanted to get rid of him, so he’d be sure to have had him checked out for undesirable elements. He had quite a few. Of which his entire family made up a large part. They were not beyond skirting the letter of the law and then some.

So far he’d managed to keep his family’s mutual little hobby under wraps. But supplying and distributing porn would be a gift to Bradley. Under his breath, he cursed his brothers, their missing stock, and their scruffy lock-up.

And it was with a growing unease that Rafferty waved goodbye to Bill Beard, brushing aside with a two-fingered salute, his, ‘Who’s been a naughty boy, then?’ and slunk his way back through reception and up the stairs to Bradley’s door.