11

“If this is what detectives do, I’d rather stay a corporal,” Wally moaned for the fourth time that day.

Since their secondment, Timmy and Wally had been posted up on various street corners staring at little to nothing. Lieutenant Conway had limited intelligence to work with when it came to the drug game in the city and even less manpower. Right now, he was having to patrol corners where the sparse information they had said there was drug activity. Unlike other crimes in the city, it seemed like drug dealing had little oversight or structure. So far they had seen a few transactions happening, but each time they were different dealers and in different places up and down the street. What made it worse was that Timmy and Wally had no idea what was being sold. They were told they were there only to catch Burn dealers, but it was impossible to see what was actually being sold or if any deals were even happening. At one point they had watched two young men shake hands for nearly an entire minute, only for no coins to be exchanged, and both individuals walked away with no further evidence of anything illicit taking place. To compound their misery, every time the rain came back, the streets would completely empty. The previous day they had spent the entire afternoon watching the gutters overflow with not a soul on the cobbles.

“Surely there must be a better way than this?” Timmy said, sharing Wally’s frustration, as fat drops of rain started falling on the window of the ramshackle little flat they were posted up in.

“I’m not bein’ funny,” Wally said, which definitely meant he was about to say something offensive. “But I thought this Lieutenant Conway guy was supposed to be a legendary street detective? Shouldn’t ‘e ‘ave like a whole bunch of snitches and stuff?”

“He is a legend,” Timmy said. “I heard he once busted an entire Purple Centipede smuggling gang by himself after being kidnapped and picking the locks with a toothpick.”

“That’s not possible,” Wally snorted.

“But he also spent nearly a decade in the basement in Missing Property. Can’t imagine snitches having that long of a shelf life.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Wally said. “But I bet ‘e ain’t got Murphy and Calloway and all them other proper detectives sittin’ on corners and starin’ at nuffin’. I bet they're doin’ proper police work. It’s just us that gets the crap assignments.”

Timmy couldn’t disagree with that. After all, everyone else in the squad was a real detective with years of experience. They came from all over the city and every department: Homicide, Robbery, Missing Persons, there was even a detective who worked in the paranormal department. He was a bit whacked and tried to convince Conway they could find the Burn dealers by contacting spirits of dead junkies, but at least he was a real detective.

“We just gotta show Conway he can trust us, that’s all.” Timmy said. “If we could bring him some proper intel he would take us seriously.”

“Where we gonna get intel on Burn dealers from?” Wally said sulkily. “You know anyone slingin’ Burn? Coz I don’t.”

“We must know one person involved in the game,” Timmy said, his brow furrowed.

“Not me,” Wally said. “You gotta be a real scumbag lowlife to sell that crap. And I don’t know no one like that. Just normal people that rob and stuff.”

Timmy’s suddenly sat bolt upright.

“Who’s the worst person we know?” he said excitedly.

“Well there’s Wonky Eye Bob that flashes his bits at old ladies. He’s pretty scummy.”

“What? No! I mean, we know a snitch, Wally!”

“We do?”

“Tommy Plumb! The pimp porno snitch!”

Wally pulled a face of disgust, and then his eyes widened in excitement.

“Oh yeah! ‘E’s a proper scumbag! I bet ‘e would know all about Burn!”

“We could get him to snitch and then take the intel back to Conway! Then he would take us seriously! I bet we won’t be sitting on any more street corners!”

“Yeah ace! Let’s go!"

“Oh but… we can’t leave our post.”

“Why not?”

"Because we’ve got orders to stay here.”

Wally rolled his eyes.

“Come on Tim, you’re thinkin’ like a plod again. You need to think like a detective. Detectives don’t hang about looking at empty street corners, they… you know, go and detect things!”

“That’s true. And Conway did say we should follow up on any leads.”

“Right? And this is a lead. A certified scumbag who’s bound to know where the Burn is getting dealt. Trust me, nothing’s gonna happen on this corner now the rain’s started up again. We can grab a cab, squeeze Tommy Plumb, and be back before our shift’s over.”

“Alright. Let’s do it!”

*

Locating Tommy Plumb had been simple enough. His gang operated their seedy operation from an abandoned industrial estate out West and Timmy and Wally knew the address from the last they had to drop in on Tommy unannounced. This time, however, they were going with the full weight of the law behind them. They were still ready to crack some heads and kick shit out of anyone that gave them a problem.

One of the thugs on guard outside was a hook nosed vermin named Terry, and he clearly remembered the two officers.

“Wot d’you want?" he cried out when he saw them alight from the police wagon. “We ain’t done nuffin’!”

Terry had borne the brunt of Timmy and Wally’s new found courage under fire six months ago. He was special to the pair as he was the first person they had ever kicked shit out of as partners.

“Relax, we’re ‘ere to talk to your boss,” Wally said. “Unless you got a problem with that?” Wally narrowed his eyes, his hand falling to his hip where his truncheon was strapped.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

“N-n-no corse not!” Terry whimpered. “He’s inside.”

“Thank you kindly,” Timmy said as he strode past the thugs. Although Timmy’s legs were a little too short and portly to stride, he did walk with his head held high.

Timmy and Wally steeled themselves before walking into the small factory. Tommy Plumb was a pimp and pornographer. Last time they had walked into a startlingly raunchy scene that they were unprepared for. Today was slightly different. The printing press was still churning out stacks of black and white images of nude women, with several greasy men gathered around cutting the pictures and putting them in piles, but at least there was no live sex show today. The place smelt awful. Like old sweat and bodily fluids. It was cloying.

“Where’s Tommy?” Wally barked at one of the men.

They looked up, saw the badges, and then panicked. One man began hastily shoving pictures into his pockets, and another took off running.

“Coppers!” A voice shouted, high and shrill.

“We’re not here to nick you!” Wally cried after him, but the man was already worming his way out of a window.

In his haste to hide evidence, one of the men got his jacket caught in the printing press. The machine jammed, bucked, and then belched smoke as the man screamed. He was slowly being sucked into the printing press.

“Help me!"

Wally rolled his eyes and looked at Timmy.

“Just take the jacket off!” Timmy snapped at the man who was flailing wildly while the other men were still scattering out in blind panic. "Oh, for goodness sake!” Timmy walked across the floor and pulled the man out of his jacket.

“Wot’s going on out ‘ere!” A nasty, shrill little voice shouted above the din.

Timmy and Wally turned and then wished they hadn’t. Tommy Plumb was hard to look at at the best of times. His body and head were just a series of round balls of varying sizes. He had milky white skin that was covered in scabs and pimples. His face was squashed and verminous, with yellowing teeth of all different sizes and angles. And today, he was entirely naked and wearing a little birthday hat on his head. He was also remarkably hairless for such a girthy man.

“Oh my,” Timmy said, feeling the bile gurgle in the back of his throat.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Wally said, blanching, unable to draw his eyes away from the melted butterball of Tommy’s body.

“Wot are you lot doin’ ‘ere again!”

“Why are you naked?" Timmy said.

“Is that a piercing?” Wally said, looking down.

“I was shaggin’ obviously!” Timmy snapped at Tommy before looking at Wally. He reached down and flicked the piercing, giving a horrifying shiver of pleasure. “Feels great when they play with ‘it.”

"Oh, I’m gonna puke,” Wally said, slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Put some damn clothes on!” Timmy pleaded.

A half conscious woman staggered out of the office behind Tommy, holding a can of grease and a grotesquely phallic root vegetable.

“Tom, come back! We’re just getting to the fun stuff!”

Wally did throw up now.

“It’ll have to wait,” Tommy grunted at her. “The coppers are here.”

“Are they joining in? Because you’ve only paid for one and it’ll be extra…”

“Shut up and get inside! And put some clothes on!” Tommy snapped at her. “Come on then officers, you’ve spoiled the mood anyway. And you lot get that damn printing press working and go find Jackson! I ain’t paying him if he’s done a runner ‘alfway through ‘is shift!”

Timmy turned and lumbered into the office, giving them the pleasure of watching his cottage cheese like backside wiggle away.

"Oh, this was such a bad idea,” Wally said to Timmy.

“It was your idea.”

“Why would you listen to me? I never ‘ave good ideas!”

“Come on, we’re here now. Let’s find out what we need to know and go.”

Thankfully, Tommy had pulled on a robe by the time they entered his office. The woman had chosen to remain naked from the waist up and was sitting on a sofa smoking.

“Wot’s all this about then?" Tommy snapped at them. “I ain’t done nuffin’!”

“We’re not here for you,” Timmy said. “We need some information.”

“Huh, I ain’t got no information for you piggies,” Tommy said, his beady little rat eyes flicking over to the smoking prostitute.

“Oh leave off Tom, everyone knows your a grass,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“You shut your cocksuckers up! I ain’t no grass! But… I mean… wot did yer wanna know? Just out of curiosity?”

“We need to know who’s slingin’ Burn in the city,” Wally said, feeling slightly more composed now that Tommy’s body was hidden by the robe and his desk.

“Ha! Who isn’t?” Tommy laughed. “You gotta be a bit more spiffic boys. Everyone and their nan is slinging Burn.”

"Well, who’s selling the Bad Batch that’s killing people?” Timmy asked.

“Bad business that,” Tommy said. “I don’t get meself involved wiv all that. Killed off three of me best girls already.”

“Then help us find who is selling it so we can bring them to justice,” Timmy said.

“Like I said, I don’t know. There’s so many wannabe’s slingin’ Burn and wotever else nowadays I couldn’t even tell you who’s got it…”

“I can,” the woman said, leaning forward and making Wally blush.

“Shut up,” Tommy said. “You don’t know nuffin’.”

“Hold on, let her speak,” Timmy said, struggling to keep his eyes on the woman's face. “Miss?”

“Call me Harley, sweetheart," she replied.

“Ms. Harley, any information you can give us would be really helpful.”

“Save it lads,” Tommy said. “You ain’t got enough gold for this one here.”

“I’ll tell you what you want for free,” she said, shooting Tommy a withering look.

“Wot!” Tommy said, his bulbous little eyes bugging from his head.

“You might have lost three girls, but I’ve lost a lot of friends to that shit,” she snapped at Tommy before turning to Timmy. “I don’t know who’s bringing it in, but it’s everywhere. I know that the dealers down in the RatHoles have had it for a while now, and they’re crying out for business, because no one will buy anything from the RatHoles at the minute. They’ve even slashed their prices to entice the Burners back in.”

“The RatHoles?” Wally said, visibly swallowing.

“Yeah. They usually sell out of those big wonky towers, easier to see coppers coming. I can’t give you many names, the dealers change all the time, but I do know there’s a big fish who goes by the name of Cameron. He’s some young Face from over East.”

“Thank you so much, Ms. Harley,” Timmy said, furiously scribbling down everything she said in his notebook.

“Thank me by catching those bastards, sweetheart.”

“We will,” Timmy said, looking up too quickly and getting an eyeful of naked flesh. His face reddened immediately, and he panicked and started to stare at the ceiling. “Your help has been invaluable!” he squeaked.

"Yeah, but I think we need to go now!” Wally agreed as he stared determinedly at the floor.

“And remember that I ‘elped you out wiv this!” Tommy said to them. “One day I’m gonna need a favour from you boys.”

“Yeah okay, we gotta go!” Wally said, flapping a hand at him.

Timmy and Wally hastily exited the office.

“This is coming out of your time,” Harley said to Tommy.

“Wot! That’s not fair.”

“You can either whinge about it or bend over.”

“Fine, but don’t make a mess with that grease this time.”

Thankfully, Timmy was out of earshot before he could hear anymore. They burst out of the warehouse doors and didn’t stop until they were safely back in the police wagon, heading back to HQ. Wally shivered and spat out of the window.

“That guy creeps me out,” he said.

“I know.”

“Can we not go back to ‘im again. For like… a while at least.”

“Agreed. We need to get a better class of snitch.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rain coming down on the wagon’s roof.

“Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“Wot do you think they was doin’ with that root vegetable?”