Kind Hearts And Martinets Collection

Chapter 8

Clutching his family-sized Tupperware lunch container, and a smaller one for Martin, who was not keen on salad, Jack clumsily opened the conference room door. Martin passed by, intent on Mandy’s crotch, while an affronted Lord Snooty Paolo injected into the disturbed atmosphere, ‘What’s that dog doing here?’

Jack, distracted, looking for somewhere nice to eat his lunch, opined, ‘I’d say he was investigating the Venus areas of my beloved Superintendent."

Oh Christ, Mr Turnip head, Mandy thought, pushing Martin away, giving his scruffy head an affectionate scratch, heaven help us.

Commander Manners stepped in to deflect the inevitable altercation. ‘Jack has his dog as a recommendation from the police psychiatrist, so roll with it, please.’

Mandy rolled with her eyes to the ceiling, here we go, except there was a knock at the door, and bone-man, red-lipped, gobshite Hissing Sid, poked his head round the door. ‘Sorry, Sir, message for Jane...’ He paused, waiting for the nod from the Commander; Jack was still considering his seating options. ‘Your dad rang, again, will try to get you this evening; urgent. Michael’s home from school, he’s got dinner...’ Sid referred to his notes, ‘...Loch Etive trout from Waitroses, timed for....’ notes, ‘....6.30, he’s having a break then will get on with his homework, which he’s doing with Colleen.’

Mandy thought, what does it say about this man, his teenage son, nearly eighteen, was reporting in, doing his homework and cooking dinner. Jack, but mainly Kate, she suspected, had done a good job.

‘Cheers, Sid, now feck-off,’ and still deciding on his seat, Jack looked at DCI Willie and, in a florid, overly mannered deckachairo Italian, ‘Eh, Paolo, whattsamattawivyou, you isa startin’ to lookalika my Mama,’ and reverting to his natural cockney, ‘put on a bit of weight, my cowson, comes from sitting on yer arris all day. Still got that Thai bride? Get Ting Tong to let the seams out.’

Ting TongMandy, still processing someone telephoned saying he was Jack’s dad, knowing his dad had died six or seven years ago, recalling how upset he’d been, was shocked back to reality when she heard him say more or less what she had predicted, and her eyes hit the ceiling, again. Jack pulled up a seat for Martin, arranged a seat for himself so that he had to squash against Mandy’s leg. She gave him, in return, her old-fashioned look before shuffling her chair away, giving Cyrano the same look. ‘Move up, big nose, I don’t fancy your legs.’

With hardly any discernible movement, Cyrano responded, ‘Leave that for Martin?’

Oh my God, the Christmas story has got around the whole force, and after what seemed like half-an-hour, they were all seated, including Martin not so patiently waiting for his lunch.

Jack politely acknowledged DCI Appleby with a nod and a mutter, ‘Cyrano’ and an equally muttered “Jane” from Bob Appleby.

‘Austin,’ the commander said.

‘Commander,’ Jack said.

‘Austin.’

‘Commander.’

‘For God’s sake, please,’ Mandy interjected, thinking the chuckling Commander was as bad as Jack.

Unmoved, Jack plonked his and Martin’s lunch on the table, retrieved a spoon from his back pocket, which revolted Mandy as Jack was known for the occasional ripe fart, blaming Martin of course. ‘Commander, don’t mind if we eat our lunch, only we were somewhat preoccupied this morning?’

Paolo was about to object when the Commander replied, ‘Not at all, Jane, I think we would be rather churlish to refuse after this morning’s heroics.’

Martin had already snaffled his mackerel and, along with Mandy, was eying Jack’s salad with disgust. Noting it was Good Manners, Jack mumbled his Godfather impression, ‘Eh, Paolo, you wanna getta me a glassa water?’

Godfather‘f**k-you,’ Paolo replied, not a hint of Italian.

‘Get him some water, Paolo,’ the Commander ordered sharply, and the Sissy shuffled to the water tower while Mandy mimicked Martin and sniffed the air, only she did it with a little more decorum; fish, she expected, mango again, not unpleasant. ‘Paolo, tell us why we’re here, please?’ the commander requested.

Paolo smarmed, and in his fatally flawed way, paused too long, allowing Jack with a mouthful of mackerel and mussels to interject, ‘I know why we’re here,’ studying his pot to see what he might select next.

‘You do? Then why didn’t you tell me when I phoned just now?’ Mandy rounded on him, and Jack chewed, while Martin chased his box around the table top with his tongue and farted, only a bit, but discernible because Martin turned to look at his bum, shocked a police dog could do such a thing, and in a meeting?

Jack, still with a partial mouthful, ‘My dearest Governor, I recall our telephone conversation was rather one-sided.’ Mandy, diverted by Jack’s food-stuffed grin, leaned back in her chair and called it a draw.

‘Okay, clever d**k, why are we here?’ Paolo spluttered, his face reddening.

‘Keep your girdle on, Paolo,’ Jack reacted, taking another mouthful and turning to Mandy, ‘many a true word, eh?’ This time Mandy got full on mackerel, mussels, red onion, and mango, and something else that made her feel sick. Jack noticed, ‘Sorry darlin’, Martin just let one go, better make a run for it, eh?’ and Martin snickered.

Focused on mackerel and mussel edging in his teeth, Mandy still registered Jack’s aside about Paolo’s increasing weight. Pots and kettles, she thought, but annoyingly, he had that Jack Nicholson effect; some men grow old, run to fat, and still look good, but women! She thought affectionately of Jack"s compliments, the way she looked, that he had always liked older women; well, you can’t have everything. She was aging, saw it in the mirror every morning, but Jack looked good, if you got past the ugly, not that she would tell him. She’d once told him he sang and whistled beautifully, obviously a mad moment, as he sang and whistled all the time and people frequently told him to shut up, and he would say, “Detective Superintendent Amanda Bruce says I have a lovely voice and whistle beautifully,” so the last thing she was going to say was Jack carried his weight well, whereas Paolo’s weight was definitely going to put Ting Tong and her sewing machine to the test sooner rather than later.

Jack Nicholson‘Well?’ Paolo asked.

‘Well,’ Jack said.

‘Jack!’ Mandy reacted, accompanied by a stare that could tear the skin of yer.

‘Sissies and Cyrano?’ Jack, obliging, ‘A new drugs firm on the block. Two gangland skirmishes, drugs related? I don’t think so.’ He ran his tongue around his mouth. ‘The sissies have been rattling cages in the badlands to no avail. Hardly surprising, this is too sophisticated for the gangland Herberts.’ He paused, combining dramatic effect with the opportunity to pop a couple of mussels into his mouth with his fingers, savoured them, but unluckily for Mandy, he turned to her. ‘Got my taste for mussels from my dad. He was from the East End of London and every Sunday morning he would...’

Mandy interrupted him, not relishing the view or the smell. ‘Yes, I know, fried mussels and bacon and you sat down with him before the other kids got up, and close your mouth we are not a codfish,’ punched the air and said, ‘Mary Poppins, Yes,’ before she realised it.

Mary Poppins‘Well done, Amanda,’ the Commander added, blushing, thinking he’d better get this meeting over lest he took some banter home; what would Dorothy think?

‘If, Commander, I may be allowed to continue,’ Jack said, none too pleased with the smug look on Mandy’s face as she mouthed, “535 nil.” The Commander nodded to Jack and smiled at Mandy. ‘Commander, will you tell Paolo why Martin and I are here, why you’ve waited through my lunch and not even mentioned I’ve locked my bike next to your car?’

Mandy stifled a giggle, and an exasperated Commander asked, ‘And why have you been invited to this meeting?’ It was Bad Manners, the wind must have changed, and Jack wet his finger, put it in the air, and gave Mandy a knowing musselly grin.

‘Simples,’ Jack said, and Mandy’s audible intake of breath was noticeable, as she thought, in response to her success in Mary Poppins. Jack was about to launch into Alexander the Meerkat; Jack could not get anywhere near that voice.

Mary PoppinsAlexander the MeerkatPaolo blew, ‘What’s so f*****g simples.’ Nope, Mandy thought, Paolo can’t do Alexander either.

Alexander ‘Now, now,’ the Commander said in a platonic tone; wind veering, ‘Jane, stop winding Paolo, I mean Paul, up, and tell us, please.’

‘Simples,’ this time it was Alexander, ‘you want me to solve this for you.’ Jack, satisfied with the response, went back to his lunch, and Martin put a paw onto his hand as if to say Atta boy. Paolo fumed, Cyrano smiled inscrutably, and the Commander put a hand on Paolo’s shoulder. Not the kindly gesture of Martin’s paw, it was a firm grip. Mandy inadvertently relaxed, but Jack had not finished. She tensed, starting to feel sick; nerves, or was it the mackerel, mussels, mango, red onion, Martin’s fart, or the acidic aroma of salad cream?

Alexander,Atta boyThe Commander commanded, ‘If we can all calm down,’ looking at Paolo, aware everyone else was quite calm. ‘Paolo, what strategy you propose, please,’ Manners stressed the please, a firm intonation that could not be confused, but Paolo would not be Paolo, and Jack would not be Jane, and the Commander would have to be incredibly naive if he thought that would be it.

Paolo could not resist a dig, ‘Will you be taking notes, Jane? I see you’ve plenty of toilet paper, but no pencil.’

‘Are you going to be saying anything relevant?" Jack reacted, and with hardly a pause, "this is what we’ll do...’

Paolo banged the table, leapt, and in a whiney schoolboy tone, ‘This is my show, tell him, Commander,’ a stiff arm and index finger pointing at Jack.

‘Sit the f**k down, Paul, Paolo, or whatever your bloody name is, and let Jane have his say. He has at least done some solid police work today,’ the Commander asserted, metaphorically blowing smoke from his two-fingered pistol.

Dumbfounded at the Commander’s reaction, Paolo lowered himself into his chair, hissing indignation as, simultaneously, his ego deflated, a stony look through his joined-up eyebrows. Jack looked equally mystified, and Mandy, sensing a looming disaster, shifted her seat back just a little. Even Martin shrank into his chair, a known cowardy custard dog.

‘My guys are already on this,’ Jack opened up, casually.

‘They are, why haven’t you briefed me?’ Mandy responded indignantly, straightening in her seat.

‘I would have this morning, sweet’art, but you were too busy peeking up me round the houses.’

Mandy blushed, it was more than a glance up his shorts, and smiling sweetly in a radioactive, syrupy, Southern Belle voice, she replied, ‘Impress us, please.’

So Jack continued, assuming it was now 535 all, ‘I’ve got Jo-Jums and Nobby following up leads; Spanner’s a go-between the local rogues. I want to open up the back part of the CP room that’s been closed since the bloody cutbacks,’ got himself side-tracked, ‘I never voted for them you know, but I bet half of you did. Well, not smiling now in your feckin’ Big Society Masonic lodges, are you?’

Mandy liked it when he said “feckin’,” it was something he picked up from his love of Father Ted; Cod Irish he called it, and she smiled.

Father Ted‘Jane, we"re aware of your political views, keep to the script, please, and keep the expletives, Irish and English, to a minimum,’ the Commander said.

‘Is Paolo taking notes, Sir?’ The suppressed giggles blew, and the atmosphere was disarmed, with the exception of Paolo, who fumed. ‘As I was saying,’ Jack was getting into the swing, swaying his arm and pointing with his spoon that had half a mussel held there only by the viscous strength of the tiniest amount of salad cream. ‘I’m going to open up the old squad room; the Sissies can go in there, they will be in nobody’s way in that part of the house.’ Mandy thought, nice Jack, Lady Catherine de Burgh. ‘I want Frankie drafted in to work with my computer officer, Confucius.’

Lady Catherine de BurghMandy put her hand up and immediately thought, what am I doing. ‘I yield the floor to the p*****t in the corner.’

Not to be diverted, and leaning towards Jack, hands flat on the table, and despite the pong, she asked, ‘When did community policing get a computer officer, and Confucius?’

Jack sat back and grasped his hands behind his head and applied a smug smile, ‘Superintendent, darlin’, if I’m to run an efficient community policing department, clearly I need a computer expert, Der.’

Paolo sniggered but kept his counsel. Mandy thought she should probe but was wary, ‘Confucius?’

Holding his hands up as if to stop a barrage of critical comment, ‘Way Lin, and before you say it, I know we should call her Wailing Wall or the Wall of China, but I settled for Confucius,’ and he nudged Mandy with his elbow, which she returned in good measure along with a frigid stare. Jack laughed nervously; Mandy had some devastating looks. The Commander seemed distracted, looking down his nose trying to remove a part of a mussel from his uniform jacket, indicating Jack should get on with it. Jack did, ‘Frankie, a Met computer whiz, will hook up with Confucius; you and your mob Cyrano can camp in with me, as needs be.’

Wailing WallWall of ChinaConfuciusCyrano, with minuscule amounts of body movement, chuckled, demonstrating just how much he was enjoying himself, aware Paolo wanted the incident room to be set up at his nick in Cosham. ‘Okay, Jack,’ Cyrano replied, and pitching in with the fun, ‘you got this, and working it from Kingston is good, near the docks and bandit territory.’

Jack started to get up. ‘No way I was gonna be cycling up to Cosham,’ and showing his Tupperware box to everyone, ‘probably won’t eat anymore; want some?’ greeted by unified retching, ‘suit yourself. Commander, d’you want to see Nobby?’

‘Good idea,’ the Commander answered, rising enthusiastically. ‘Amanda, will you join me, and you chaps,’ pointing around the table, ‘sort out the incident room, toute suite.’

‘Ah, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Sir, nicely done,’ Mandy said, and Good Manners bathed in his inadvertent glory.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang,Jack buzzed down the stairs and, entering the corridor, noticed a scurry of activity in the CP room. He ducked into the toilet with Martin, leaving the door ajar. As the Commander and Mandy approached, Martin and Jack looped behind them as the commander opened the CP room door and Jo-Jums jumped, "Boo!"

Jack bent over in hysterics; toilet paper popped off his knees and blood cascaded down his shins. The Commander bellowed, ‘f*****g kids!’ and stomped off, accidentally treading on Jack’s bad toe causing him to double over again, this time bashing his head on the closing door. ‘Serves you f*****g right,’ but the Commander felt a mellow warmth, relieved, because his son David had been in on the act, and he could tell Dorothy their boy has a nickname and is fitting in.