‘Come on, mate, let us through, it’s in t’public interest. You know that, don’t you?’ Arnie Muckraker, real name Arnold Mickleacre, pleaded with PC Alan Edgeley.
Mickelacre was a short stubby man with a receding hairline, neatly trimmed ginger beard, beer belly and sharp nose, which someone had remarked made him looked like a bald rat. He wore his customary loud check suit with tailored trousers which had a waistline high above his paunch whilst the buttoned up jacket strained against his bulging stomach, threatening to burst out from restrain of the buttons. It was not an imposing or impressive sight.
‘Can’t do that, Arnie, strict instructions from the boss. More than my jobs worth to go against that.’
‘Who is it up there with the dead lass, anyhow, is it Yarrow?’ Arnie asked, peering
