39
New Boots And Panties – Ian Dury And The Blockheads
Luncheon was served, and eaten, and the long day dragged on. I was sitting in the garden again when my new phone chirruped. It was Robber. ‘Listen, Nick,’ he said, ‘I’m not having much luck with your men. There’s no Martineau working for the Revenue. The Spencer, I told you about, and Smyth with a y don’t exist as far as the Met and Special Branch would let on. Who knows what the truth is? You never know with these fuckers. So I’ve come up a blank, and don’t bother asking for your money back, it’s already spent.’
‘On a new suit?’ I asked.
There was a long pause. ‘Funny,’ was all he said.
I didn’t tell him about my adventure the previous evening after we’d met. Too much information for even a slightly dodgy cop to ignore. ‘Fair eno
