19

Corporal Timothy Edgewater had always dreamed of being a copper. Since he was a little boy, writing detailed reports about the underground trade in sweets on the playground, he had always been in love with the idea of protecting law and order. Then, at only 16, he had lied about his age, and applied to the city’s police academy. The day Timothy received his badge had been the proudest day of his life. Even his mother, who had always been against the idea of him becoming a ‘nark’, had wept a little tear. Probably because she knew he was bound to arrest her for the cat breeding farm in her basement any day now.

Life had been grand the day Timmy had graduated and it had been on a steady decline ever since. The first reality Timmy had to deal with as a copper, was that it turned out the thin blue line was really the only thing that separated police and criminals in this city. And half the time that line grew so thin it was hard to distinguish between the two. Respecting and upholding the law was as derided in the precinct as it was in the grimiest pubs of the city’s virulent underworld. Timmy often found himself the butt of the joke with the other officers. It didn't help that he was still waiting for the growth spurt his mother had promised him and his face alternated from acne ridden to plump and hairless at a whim. Respect was hard to come by for Corporal Edgewater. Fortunately, a life spent being picked on by other children, adults, and even his own mother, meant that he had never grown enough pride to have it wounded too badly.

Despite the ridicule and contempt, Timmy still turned up every day, bright and early. His boots polished, his badge gleaming, ready to right the wrongs of the world. Unfortunately, most of his days were composed of standing here or patrolling there, keeping out of the way, and being scolded for having bright ideas. So when a real actual Sergeant had sent him on a special mission, he was determined to make a name for himself. He had grabbed the only officer who wouldn’t have told him to piss off and made for Cumberley post haste.

That officer was Corporal Walter Washbottom. There has never been a more pathetic example of a copper than Wally Washbottom. He too had joined the police young, it was that or go up the river for his eighteenth petty theft charge. And ever since, he had wished he had the stones to do the time. Wally was dragged up by the tips of his ears. He was one of those people who was just always a bit grimy. Wally could hop squeaky clean out of a bathtub and within minutes be caked in a thin layer of grime and grease. Wally, like Timmy, was on the very bottom of the social hierarchy at the police station. But, where Timmy was the whipping boy, Wally was very much the mutt of the precinct. Sometimes he was fed scraps from the table and sometimes he had the boot put to him just because. Even so, Wally liked being a copper. His uniform was his first set of clothes that didn’t have any holes in it, he could always get a warm meal at the canteen, he could walk the streets without fear of being mugged, and when people spat at him now it wasn’t ever personal. And he liked Corporal Edgewater. He always had extra jam sandwiches at lunch and he never cussed at Wally or made fun of him because his ears stuck out or that he read like a Troll with a headache.

So when Timmy had come to him babbling excitedly about some special assignment he had tagged along. Wally was good at tagging along. A good tagger alonger never needed to have a bright idea, or a sense of direction, just the ability to follow and offer the odd bit of encouragement.

“Why are we treckin’ all the way out to Cumberley?” Wally moaned as they trudged down Macoom street, wading through the ankle deep puddles.

“I told you it’s a special assignment!” Timmy said, his fat little cheeks glowing pink as he huffed along. “From Sargeant Nairo herself!”

“Who?”

“Sergeant Nairo! She’s one of them special detectives! Only gets the most important cases. She’s working that big bank heist right now and we’re helping!”

“She the bird who barks orders and has a face like a slapped…”

“That’s a superior officer, Wally!”

“What makes her so sooooperior?” Wally said, digging around in his ear and sniffing his find.

“She’s got rank, obviously!”

“Yeah well… if she wanted to come out to Cumberley she shoulda come ‘erself,” Wally grumbled.

“She hand picked me for this assignment! Obviously she needed a bright up and comer she could trust,” Timmy said, puffing his chest up.

“So why did she pick you then?”

Timmy scowled at Wally. He was always unsure whether the corporal had a razor sharp wit, or a brain duller than a bent spoon.

“Well, she did pick me and I picked you, and now we’re on our way to apprehend a dangerous criminal.”

“What?” Wally said, his keenly honed survival instincts picking up on the words ‘dangerous’ and ‘criminal’. “You said ‘e woz a bank manager!”

“He is. But he’s also a HobGoblin. I reckon he must have masterminded the bank robbery and now he’s on the run.”

They turned down Pickling avenue and Timmy waved warmly at the old mums clearing rainwater from their front gardens. They scowled back at him suspiciously.

“So why’s she sent us! She should have sent some real coppers!”

“We are real coppers, Wally!” Timmy huffed indignantly.

“No we ain’t. I’ve never even caught no criminals before.”

“You haven’t?”

“‘Ave you?”

Timmy paused and licked his lips.

“I mean… I’ve been there when it happened. Remember that flasher two weeks ago. The old grubby sort that kept exposing himself in the cemetery?”

“Wonky Eye Bob?”

“That’s the one! I was there when they caught him.”

“Right well, if we was on our way to catch a batty old streaker I would feel much better,” Wally muttered sullenly.

“C’mon Wally!” Timmy wheedled. “This is a big opportunity for us! If we do this right, could be a promotion in it for us!”

“I don’t wanna get promoted.”

“It’s a extra four silvers a week.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, course.”

“That ain’t half bad,” Wally said, musing about all the extra snuff and pints he could buy with four more silver coins.

“Plus, we could be in the paper!”

“We could?”

“Yeah, course. Two young up and comers apprehend a dangerous Goblin villain! They’ll be drawing our likeness and everything.”

“Wait, you didn’t say he was a villain!”

“Yes I did.”

“No you didn’t. You said he was a HobGoblin bank manager.”

“Obviously he must be some sort of villain,” Timmy said offhandedly. “Why else would he have robbed his own bank?”

“‘E’s not…” Wally looked all around him and then whispered: “Kith?”

Even Timmy blanched at the thought, his bluster cut through by the very real prospect of meddling with actual Goblin gangsters.

“Even if he is, well, so what?” Timmy said, his voice going squeaky. “We’re police, what do you have to fear from some… some thugs?”

“Oh man Tim, wot ‘ave you dragged me into! I don’t wanna go getting involved with them Goblin villains. They’ll ‘ang us upside down and cut us from ear to ear. Bleed us dry like ‘ogs!”

“No they won’t.”

“I ‘eard they eat your eyes and tongue.”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Everyone knows that.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Well I didn’t.”

“Well everyone that ain’t you knows that.”

They had made their way to the intersections of Mallview and Themefide, two broad streets with squashed houses and a dreary row of shop fronts. They weren’t far now.

“Why did you become a copper if not to get involved with criminals?” Timmy said.

“I dunno. Judge kept saying fings about reforming and wasting me life an’ all that. Then they offered me the chance to be a copper and… I dunno prop up me community or sumfin.”

“What?”

“Kept calling me a pillar or sumfin.”

“He wanted you to be a pillar of your community?”

“Yeah that was it. I mean I been called a lot of fings but never been called a pillar. I mean I’ve been called a pillock a fair bit…”

“He wanted you to be an upstanding member of the community.”

“Then why did ‘e make me become a copper?” Wally said mournfully.

“He made you become a copper?”

“It was join the academy and become a copper or do 2% up the water and I didn’t fancy that. Wot with me good looks and all that, they’d turn me guts inside out.”

“But what about justice and protecting the innocent!”

“I mean I thought it would be nice being the fella holding the big stick rather than being the one getting ‘it by it. But then I found out they don’t even give you a big stick no more.”

Timmy sighed and mopped the sweat from his brow.

“We don’t need a big stick to uphold the law.”

“Yeah, but it does help.”

“Well you’re a copper now, so it’s time to act like one.” Timmy said, putting on a little extra pace and leaving Wally to trail in his wake kicking at the cobbles like a naughty school boy on his way to detention.

They trudged on in silence until they came to Silk street, one of the city’s most famous open air brothels. Ladies of every age, description, and price hung from windows and lurked in doorways, with just enough clothing, in just the right places, to not be described as legally indecent. They whistled at the sight of the two blue uniformed officers. The day trade was slow after the heavy rains, so the two junior corporals had the full attention of the street.

“Coppers on the walk!” A voice cried out.

“Oooh ent they a young fresh pair of ‘andsome coppers?” a nearly toothless old woman cackled.

“Wot you looking for, sweetie?” Another said from a doorway, swishing her faded yellow dress to reveal her stubbly legs.

“Oh dear,” Timmy muttered, his mouth going dry.

“Phwoar!” Wally exclaimed behind him, his mouth gaping wide.

“I won’t do two, but you can take turns,” a girl with bright brown eyes and a hard scowl called down at them from a window.

“Special offers on at the minute for men in uniform!” Another barked at them.

A boy scuttled past them with a tray of something wriggly and oozing.

“Bilg glyphs mista, three for a silver! Guaranteed to keep your chap up and going till tomorrow!”

Timmy eyes grew wide as he skirted past the boy only to be accosted by a scrawny old man with a lecherous grin.

“Don’t fancy any action then how about a show?” he wheezed at him, his breath a noxious cloud the colour of moss. “Got some fine young things from the dessert, you’ve never seen anything more bendy.” He waggled his eyebrows at Timmy.

“N-no thankyou. I’m-I’m on duty. Keep moving, Wally.” Timmy muttered from the side of his mouth, his eyes planted firmly on the cobbles in front of him. “Wally?”

Timmy looked behind him. Wally was gone. He looked around and saw his partner standing by a doorway, a stupid, slack jawed, grin on his face as a young girl ran a long finger around his badge.

“I do love a man in uniform,” she cooed at him. “Fancy making my day, sweetheart?”

“Ummm… yeah.” Wally said. “‘Ow?”

The girl gave out a tinkle of laughter.

“Why don’t you come upstairs and we can…”

“Come on, Corporal Washbottom!” Timmy grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away.

“‘Old on wait! She said we could…”

“Your on duty, Corporal!”

“I was about to be on ‘er!”

Timmy shoved him away and resolutely marched past the rows of hard eyed women flogging their wares.

“C’mon Tim, we can stop for a couple of minutes,” Wally whined. “I’ll be quick, promise!”

“We’re on a mission.” Timmy growled, his face so flushed he felt like his ears would start whistling.

“I’ll be back!” Wally cried over his shoulder to the girl as Timmy dragged him round the corner.

“That was not cool,” Wally said, wrenching his arm from Timmy’s grip.

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t report you for unbecoming conduct,” Timmy snapped breathlessly at him.

“You’d rat me out?” Wally said, his face a picture of hurt.

“Well, no.” Timmy said begrudgingly. “But you should remember you’re in uniform and that comes with a certain level of decorum.”

“Who? Was that the girl in green?”

“Nevermind. Look, the house is just down the end of this road. Let’s get on with what we need to do and get out of here.”

“Fine,” Wally muttered, sticking out his bottom lip like a fussy toddler. “But you owe me one for this.”

“Alright. Let's go, please.”

Timmy led the way down the quiet back street, counting door numbers as he went.

“It’s just over there, you see that little red brick by itself in that grubby lot.”

Wally nodded.

“Now listen carefully, okay. We should have a plan before we get there.”

“Right.”

They both paused and looked at each other expectantly.

“D’you have a plan?” Wally asked.

“No. I’ve never done this before.” Timmy said.

They paused again and thought.

“We could knock?” Wally said.

“You reckon?”

“That’s usually ‘ow you see if someone’s ‘ome.”

“Yeah, good idea. And we should say ‘we’re the police, come out with your hands up!’”

“Yeah that’s good.” Wally nodded enthusiastically. “Why does he need to have his hands up?”

Timmy blinked.

“Ummm, coz… I dunno, it’s just what coppers say, isn’t it?” he said with a shrug.

“I dunno. Usually they just tell me to stop resisting while they kick shit out of me.”

“Okay. We knock and we say we’re police right and we tell him to come outside. Okay?”

“Yeah. But what if he does a runner?”

“Why would he do a runner?”

“I would. Otherwise you get shit kicked out of you.”

“But we’re not going to kick shit out of him.”

“Yeah, but how does he know that?” Wally said with a knowing nod.

“That’s true. Okay we knock, and we say we’re police, and to come outside and we promise not to kick shit out of you.”

“That’s brilliant. And then we kick shit out of him?” Wally said with an eager glint in his eye.

“No! We’re not kicking shit out of him!”

“Why not?” Wally said, crestfallen.

“Coz we’re coppers?”

“Coppers love kicking shit out of people. Didn’t you do the training?”

“What training?” Timmy said before shaking his head and holding up his hands. “Nevermind. We knock, we tell him to come out, and that we won’t kick shit out of him and ummm… one of us will go round the back and make sure he doesn’t scarper.”

“Yeah that’s smart. Who’s going round the back?”

“You obviously.”

“Why me!”

“Because this is my assignment!”

“Yeah but it woz me that come up with the fing about not kicking shit out of him.”

“Fine!” Timmy said in exasperation. “Rock, Paper, Dragon?”

“Deal.”

They raised their fist and slapped their open palms chanting: ‘Rock… Paper… Dragon.”

“Yes I win,” Timmy said, pumping his flabby fist in the air.

“No fair! I wanted to throw Dragon!”

“You should have then.”

“I would ‘ave if I thought of it,” Wally muttered.

“Right, you get round the back sharpish and I’ll knock. Gimme the signal when you’re in place.”

“Right.” Wally began to walk away and then stopped. “Wot signal?”

“Oh ermmm…” Timmy mopped his sweaty brow again. It took a lot of thought to be a copper. “Umm… can you make any noises?”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. How about a pigeon?”

“A pigeon?”

“Yeah like coo coo.”

“I ain’t never heard no pigeon that sounds like that,” Wally sniggered.

“Well what can you do?”

“How about a snake? I do a good snake.”

“What? What does that sound like?”

Wally looked him dead in the eye and then stuck his tongue through his teeth and hissed at him.

“That’s good.”

“Right?”

“But how would I hear that all the way from the front?”

“Oh yeah, true. Okay what about a cow?”

“Yeah that would work. Quick, get in position. And be sneaky!”

Wally nodded resolutely and then skirted around the edge of the house, his gangly frame all right angles as he tried to crouch and scurry at the same time. Timmy watched him disappear around the back of the house before he made his way to the front door. He gave it a few seconds, taking the time to straighten his uniform and practise under his breath.

“Open up,” he whispered. “We’re the police. Come out… come out w-with your hands… Come out with your hands up and we won't kick the…”

“Timmy!” came a strangled cry from behind the house.

‘What’s he doing? That's not the signal!’ Timmy thought.

“Timmy!” Wally cried again, panic making his voice shrill.

Timmy went racing around the corner of the house, tripping over the weeds. He tumbled around the corner expecting to see Wally grappling with a savage HobGoblin. Instead he saw his partner standing, paper white, wide eyed in horror.

“What happened Wally?” Timmy said, sucking wind hard.

Wally shook his head and pointed to the window at the back of the house.

“What is it?” Timmy crept up to the window and peered through. “Oh stars.”

There was blood. Everywhere. Oozing across the floor in crimson pools. Splattered across the walls. Dripping from the windows.

“What do we do?” Wally whispered from behind him.

“Ummm… ummm…” Timmy felt the blood drain from his face. He staggered to one side and then flopped down on the floor. “Message… message s-s-somebody!”