A White Arrest

And speaking of wreaths

They buried Jacko Mary on a cold November morning long after A White Arrest was concluded. There was the grave-digger, Roberts and a shabby woman. When the coffin was down, she said: ‘Rough enough to die alone.’

‘You’re here.’

‘I’m not a friend. He owed me money’ Roberts tried to temper his anger. ‘Thought you might still get it, eh?’

‘’Ere, don’t be sarky. You must be that copper.’

Roberts looked round, said: ‘Yeah. Keep it down, OK?’

‘He liked you, he did.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh yeah. Were he any good as a snitch, like?’

Roberts considered. Jacko Mary had cracked the ‘E’ case, sort of, but he said: ‘No.’

‘Didn’t fink so.’

As a cop, Roberts had to do lots of dodgy things, came with the territory. But this denial was to be one act he felt forever ashamed about.

At a squat in Coldharbour Lane, a woman was stirring. ‘Tony.’

She raised her voice. ‘Tony!’

‘What? What’s going on?’

‘Brew us a cup o’ tea, two sugars.’

‘Fock off.’

She got up and gave him a smack on the head with an old copy of the Big Issue. If she’d checked, Tricky was on the cover. He got up and moved over to the gas ring. Near tripped on a number nine club. The grip was worn, well used. The woman watched him as he tried to get it together to light the gas, said:

‘Jaysus, yer arse looks great in them Farahs.’

‘They’re a bit tight, cut into the crack of my hole.’

And he moved his right leg to demonstrate. She said: ‘Naw, I like ’em.’

‘D’ya think I’m sexy?’

‘Yeah, dead sexy.’

In Coldharbour Lane, Kevin had called a meet. He was dressed in combat gear, and wired to the moon. Doug and Fenton exchanged wary glances. Albert arrived late and got a bollocking.

‘What is it, Albert, yer getting tired of our crusade, that it?’

‘I had to sign on, Kev. I was up the DHSS.’

‘Yer head is up yer ass, is what. Time to get yer attention, fella. Time to get everybody’s attention.’

He threw three black-and-white photos on the coffee table, said: ‘We’re moving up.’

Albert felt his heart thump, tried: ‘Like another area?’

Kevin crossed to him, began to jab his chest with his fingers, jabbed hard, spitting: ‘No shithead, we’re staying put, no scum’s running me outta my manor. We’re gonna off three fucks at once.’

Fenton was on his feet: ‘What? C’mon Kevin, how the hell are we gonna pull that off?’

Kevin didn’t look at him, but continued to jab at his brother, said: ‘See these three, yeah in the photies, they’ve set up shop together. Got a co-op in Electric Avenue and that’s where we’re gonna take ’em.’

Doug sighed, asked:

‘And the three guys, they’re just gonna say, “Hey OK, we’ll come with youse — oh, nice rope.”’

Kevin’s eyes gleamed, his moment, said: ‘That’s it Douggie, we’ll do them in their gaff.’