"Doesn't seem right Cass's number being given out again like first prize in a raffle or somethin'" moaned Gary Best nursing a cup of tea with his feet up on the dashboard of the van.
"It's only a number, Gary, it was bound to happen eventually," replied Gemma Osbourne holding a similar plastic cup. The van was parked up a small side street a few metres away from a burger van named 'Donald Macs'. Nobody knew whether or not this was actually the owner's name or a bad pun on the name of a well-known fast food restaurant designed to drum up business.
"And take those down," she added swatting his legs with an old copy of 'The Sun'. "Its not you who'll have to wipe those hoof marks off the windscreen at the end of the shift."
"Oww that 'urt," he complained. " Nobody'll touch my number though, 149 until I die. Or at least until I get into CID."
"I hate to break it to you, DCI Best, but you're still in uniform so shift your plates!" she whacked his legs again forcing him to finally remove them.
"Can't believe all the girls are droolin' over 'im too," he continued.
"That's what this is really about! Aww poor little Gary are they not paying enough attention to you," Gemma cooed
"Gerroff!" he pushed her away. "Bet you fancy 'im too!"
"Yeah, I just went straight all of a sudden, " she answered sarcastically, starting to flick though the paper. "Hey, this is three weeks old, why does Tommo never clean this out!"
"But you're a woman though ain't ya? You must like blokes somewhere deep down, its in the DNA or the hormones or whatever," he persisted.
"Is this another attempt to get into my pants, Gary? If I feel something for another bloke then maybe you might have a chance is that it?" she threw the paper in the back.
"No…well…I was just thinking. All the rest of 'em do and he's got this dark and mysterious thing going on," Gary said hesitantly.
"Actually," added Gemma inching closer to him. "I did look him over, pretty tasty, nice body, firm arse and one thing did enter my mind…"
"Go on," smiled Gary a cheeky grin in his eye.
"I thought to myself…does he have a sister?" she laughed.
"Not much further, there's a lovely little café just down the road from here, I've been going there for years," said Tony. "Not been in lately though, usually driving the area car you see."
"So you're an area car driver?" Rob asked.
"Yeah when Taviner's not in the hot seat. You might remember him, the mouthy scouser?"
"Oh yeah, the Kop Kojak," replied Rob.
Tony laughed. "That's one way of describing him, yeah."
"Yoo-hoo Mister Stamp!" a lone female voice screeched out from behind the policemen. Tony paused on the spot; it was as if you could see his blood literally freezing. Rob turned around and found himself looking at a young woman in her early 20's wearing a dark blue PVC police uniform. The top was low cut, coupled with a mini-skirt, thigh length boots and a nametag reading 'Sgt Sexy'. She had long strawberry blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders and only kept in check by a large peaked cap that covered her eyes.
"Girlfriend, Tony?" Rob asked with a broad grin. "Who's the Lolita?"
"Rob, meet Trisha Topliss, some of the local colour," Tony replied outstretching his hand.
"Rob? Funny name for a copper innit? Say again though I went with an old Bill once, I say old he was like 40 or somethin' but he went on the thieve a lot. Like me outfit lads wooo!" Trisha spun around showing off her various curves. "The punters love it, even got me own 'andcuffs, not on me 'course got a bloke in 'em upstairs."
"Still renting that flat above the bookies then?" Tony asked.
"Yeah Mum threw me out on me again," she replied. "Ali took me in, top babe that she is."
"Hold on, you've left a bloke up there?" Rob asked.
"Yeah 'e's fine, likes it, don't even need me there the weirdo just likes being tied up so's I came out 'ere for a quick fag, you guys want one?" she offered her packet around after removing one. Both officers courteously refused.
"You always wear this get-up?" Rob asked.
"Na, just this week, last week I was a nurse, week before that trolley dolly, week before that cavegirl, week before that…" she recalled.
"Trisha's a bit theatrical" Tony interrupted "she went to drama school."
"A theme tom then. Seen everything now," Rob retorted. "Still with a name like Topless the job options would be very limited."
"Its spelt with an 'I'," Trisha replied indignantly.
"Its true an all, Liss not Less. Her sister works up in the City a legal secretary or something. I met her once, changed her name of course."
"While Trish just adapted I suppose," Rob sniggered.
"I'm a very adaptable girl, Constable," she smiled back slowly undoing her top "and as a fellow officer of the law I can let you inspect my briefs for a reduced price." She placed her hand firmly on his shoulder and moved it slowly down his coat. Rob grabbed her hand at its base and threw it away hard.
"No thanks!" he said sternly and headed off down the street without saying a word to either of them.
"Trisha!" Tony shouted.
"What? What did I do? I am legal y'know I'm over 18 too and I ain't got the clap if that's what your thinkin'. It was only a bit of fun, he shouldn't be in the job if he can't take a joke!" she protested but it fell on deaf ears.
"Go and check on your punter!" Tony added. Trisha gave him a blank look but one could see the thought trickling into her head as the words unjumbled to make sense. Her eyes lit up as if a bulb had been switched on. Several puffs of smoke could also be seen swirling from the top window so Trisha stamped out her cigarette on the street, flung open the door and raced as fast as she could, or however fast her spiked heels would allow, up the stairs. Tony Stamp ran back to his partner's side and endeavoured to find out what had sparked his departure.
"All units from Sierra Oscar," the radio crackled into action carrying Matt Boyden's voice to the relief, "burglary reported at 52 Dorrell Road, any unit free to deal?"
"Sierra Oscar 2, Sarge, we're only ten minutes away," Gemma replied into her radio eager for some action.
"Good girl, the informant is a Mrs Jennifer Sloman, she's the homeowner," he replied.
Just over five minutes later the van turned up outside the given address. A grumpy looking pregnant blonde woman stood outside the door wearing a hot pink cardigan, white T-shirt and black trousers. She was breathing deeply and rubbing her stomach, a ritual she stopped as soon as she saw the van. The two Constables disembarked from the van and walked up to the door passing through a garden filled with broken engine parts and parched grass.
" 'Ground Force' would wave the white flag if they ever came round here," muttered Gary.
"You have a squad for crap lawns now do you?" the woman replied.
"No, it's a TV programme, Alan Titchmarsh," replied Gary.
"I know it is, dopey. You two were quick," she added.
"We aim to please, I'm PC Osbourne and this is PC Best from Sun Hill," Gemma said.
"Pity you didn't get here a couple of hours earlier. I'm Mrs Sloman, Jennifer, by the way, you'd better come through," she ushered them in. "Excuse the mess especially that pile of old clothes and after-shave on the sofa, that's my husband, Kevin."
A large man lay slumped on a plush brown sofa watching a football match on TV. The game attracted Gary like a moth to a nightlight.
"What's the score, mate?" he asked turning his attentions to the box.
"Nil-Nil so far," Kevin replied.
"I must apologise for my colleague, years ago they took away his brain and replaced it with a football and a couple of acorns," Gemma said sarcastically.
"I'm familiar with the procedure already," Jennifer retorted and both had a quick laugh.
"So what happened here?" Gemma asked. In front of her stood a set of patio doors leading out into a small garden. One of the doors was smashed to pieces and the glass fragments on the carpet indicated to her that this was the method of entry, a couple of broken fence posts in the garden supported the theory.
"We came back from my mother's, went to take her some shopping and that, and it was all this when we got in. We were only out for a couple of hours max too."
"Anything taken at all?" Gemma asked.
"Not much to take really, love," Jennifer replied.
"Telly and the DVD are still 'ere," shouted Kevin from the sofa.
"Yeah I know all about that don't I! Wouldn't notice if I had been nabbed would ya as long as that thing stays!" Jennifer retorted.
"Mrs Sloman," Gemma stopped the wife from marching through the kitchen and over to her errant husband. "Could you just tell me if anything was taken please?"
"My jewellery box has been emptied. Not much of it mind you due to that tight git over there but I did have a couple of really nice gold necklaces, 3 sovereign rings, oh and one with a large ruby, false of course God forbid I should have anything expensive, but it was my late Gran's. Look for her initials I.W, Ida White, inscribed on the top," Jennifer explained with occasional glances towards her husband.
"Any ideas who might have done this?" Gemma continued with one eye on her own partner, Gary, who was leaning back on the arm of the sofa with his back to her engrossed in the match. Nothing exciting was obviously happening as neither had uttered so much as a peep since the officers had been present.
Jennifer winced in pain, rubbing her stomach hard. She staggered to a stool by the breakfast bar and sat down, the stress of the case was obviously getting to her.
"Are you alright, Mrs Sloman?" Gemma asked.
"Yeah I'll be fine, just gotta calm down that's all, love," she replied. "Lemme think for a minute, well that Carl Trent and his gang have been hanging around here recently. We rarely leave the house these days, Kev won't let me because of the baby." She patted her stomach again. " 5 months gone you see. So whoever did it must've been watching the place, can't think of anyone else but then it could be any number of the urchins that walk these streets. Might even be a chancer."
"249 to Sierra Oscar. Attention required to one Carl Trent wanted in connection with the Dorrell Road burglary. Over," Gemma reported.
"All received, cheers Gemma," Matt replied.
"Is that your name? Gemma?" Jennifer asked.
"Only one I've got," the PC replied.
"What about 'im?" she indicated towards her partner.
"He's been called many names in his time but we mainly use Gary."
"Bloke on the radio?"
"Sergeant Boyden, Matthew," Gemma replied a little bemused. "Why do you ask?"
"Been trying to think of a name for this one," Jennifer patted her stomach again. "Don't know the sex yet so we just keep asking everyone at the moment," she giggled, "Gemma's nice though, traditional too, I like it."
"Nowt wrong with Gary!" a protest came from the sofa.
"Not what the station gossip says," smiled Gemma.
"I've said that, Gary's a good name," Kevin replied.
"My child is not going to be named after some football player," Jennifer shouted back "he only likes it because Gary's one of the Neville brothers! 'Ere I've just twigged, you're both from Manchester aren't you? What are you on some Police exchange program or something?"
"I think we should be going now, Mrs Sloman," Gemma said trying to get out of the house. Her 'action' had suddenly got dull and she was eager to join in the chase for Carl Trent. Upon backing out she hit her elbow on a saucepan which was sitting atop a pile in the sink. Several bowls, plates and cutlery with decaying food still in them. She rubbed her limb to ease the pain and still edged towards the exit.
"I'm sorry about all that, Gemma," Jennifer apologised. "I did all the cooking yesterday." She turned to he husband and yelled, "I don't see why I should have to wash up too!"
"I helped to cook!" Kevin protested.
"You weighed the cheese!"
"500 grams," he smiled.
"Don't ever get married, Gemma!"
As the couple began to row again Gemma quickened her pace towards the door.
"Gary, c'mon," she ushered her partner.
"Aww I'm watching this now, just a couple more minutes, eh," he replied sulkily.
"You can listen to it on the radio in the van."
"It's not the same though."
Gemma grabbed the remote and jabbed at the large red 'OFF' switch, killing all the noise in the room instantly.
"Hey, what did you do that for!" Kevin shouted.
"Cos she's got more guts than me that's for sure, she wouldn't put up with all your crap day in day out!" Jennifer shouted back.
"Public service, sir, Arsenal were about to score. Right! If both of you could come down to Sun Hill Station and make statements within the next couple of days please. A list of everything that's missing would be helpful too, no missing 'Mona Lisa's' on there to swindle the insurance man with either." She took a card out of her pocket and placed it on the table. "There's my card so please call and ask for me or PC Best if you have any questions or remember anything else."
She opened the door with force and marched out, her partner scurrying behind her still in a sulk.
"What was all that about?" Tony asked his new partner. "Trisha might be a bit of a drama queen but she's harmless, you don't have to talk to her like that."
"Sorry, guess I'm not that used to… her sort of girl," he replied " They're more up front than the ones I'm used to, just another aspect about this place I have to get jiggy with."
"New challenge."
"Yeah, new challenge. So is starting your life all over again when your wife decides she's had enough of you," he added mournfully.
"I'm sorry, must be terrible," consoled Tony.
"Anyway, new challenge," he replied. The two Constables barely talked after that as they walked further on down the street pausing only to take Sergeant Boyden's message about the burglary, suspects and items taken. About ten minutes after Tony stopped outside a small café and starred casually into the window. Ducking out of sight quickly he beckoned Rob back to him.
"Fancy making your first arrest in Her Majesty's Metropolitan Police Service?" he smiled. "In there sits Carl Trent and the rest of his cronies."
"The Dorrell Road burglary guy?"
"The very same. Thirsty work this y'know, fancy a cuppa?" Tony added with a grin.
"Mouth like the bottom of a budgie's cage," Rob said with a similar smile. The two officers walked casually into the café but even the sight of their uniforms sent a ripple of mild panic throughout the establishment. Men moved from seat to seat, packages were hidden and eyes scurried into every corner searching for exits, hiding places or signs of other Police officers. Practically every person in the place had been present at a raid one time or another.
"Wonderful effect isn't it, PC Stamp. We walk in and the place is instantly spotless. Kim and Aggie couldn't do better," announced Rob.
"It's a shame all the good citizens of Sun Hill aren't as environmentally minded as our friends in here, PC Weston," Tony continued. "Isn't it a shame, Carl?"
He walked over to a table containing 3 youths all in their early twenties, two men and a woman. Tony approached one; a white male dressed in a grey hooded top with 'Eminem' written across it.
"Whatever," he growled.
"This is Carl," Tony introduced the man to Rob, "and his fellow layabouts, Joey Peters and Tracey Chatham." He referred respectively to a black man dressed in a similar hooded top, tucking into a full English breakfast which looked like it had enough grease to oil a Multi-Storey's worth of cars, and a white female with her dirty blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, wearing a white tracksuit and examining a large gold ring with a ruby sticking out the top of it.
"Where were you around 11am this morning, Carl?" asked Tony. Several patrons began to exit the café once the officers had found their quarry. Rob was too busy doing a check via his radio to notice.
"At home watching 'This Morning'," Carl smiled.
"Nowhere near Dorrell Road by any chance?"
"That shithole? No way, mate" came the sulky reply.
"Hi I'm PC Weston, I'm new to these parts," Rob introduced himself with a cheesy grin, took a gentle hold of Tracey's hand and examined the ring.
"Nice bit of bling, where did you get it?" he asked.
"Carl give it me. Nice innit," she grinned, obviously proud of Carl and her new trinket.
"Stop bashin' your gums, bitch," Carl growled.
"What's going on, man?" Joey asked.
"It's cool, they ain't got nothing," Carl replied.
"Tracey your real name? Only these aren't your initials," Rob continued pointing to the inscription. Tracey looked crestfallen once she checked the ring.
"This ain't for me is it?" she roared at Carl, small tears in her eyes, "You meant to give it to that slag Caroline Crane didn't you!"
"I suddenly believe all those newspaper reports about falling literacy skills," sighed Rob, "Look at it, Trace, its says I.W if you look!"
"Is that one of the ones we're after?" Tony asked.
"Certainly is. Looks like it's a cell made for three," Rob nodded, "Tom, Dick and Harriet."
"This ain't nothing to do with me," Joey stood up and started to walk away but Rob caught his arm, "We'll be the judge of that. Actually the judge will but you get the idea."
"I can't get done for this, man," he protested "I've already got a one years suspended hanging over me."
"Do you know who my dad is?" Carl shouted at Rob while Tony radioed for back up. Tracey stayed in her seat, quiet as a dormouse, radiating a worried look.
"Don't worry," Tony reassured her. "You're free to go, we don't think you're involved."
"I'm taking a guess its not Prince Phillip, nearer Jim Royle. Am I right?" he replied sarcastically.
"Nearer Reggie Kray," Carl snarled back "and when he finds out 'is boy is being fitted up he'll be well mad. You porkys won't know what hit ya!"