my arse. The new boss wants to see me.’
Romney shared a grin. ‘Good luck. I’ve just come from there. Do you know why she’s here?’ The uniformed inspector shook his head. ‘I won’t spoil it for you then. It’s quite a speech. How’s that PC I shared my coffee with this morning?’
‘She’ll live. You might get a cleaning bill. A box of chocolates and a bunch of flowers might stop her making an official complaint.’
*
Next stop was the gents. Preferring the privacy of the cubicles to the exposure of the urinals, he was standing preparing to perform his bodily function when two officers burst through the main door, speaking loudly.
‘Yeah, well, you can take it from me, things won’t be the same around here any more. Old Falkner might have been one part soft, three parts useless but trust me, after a few weeks in the grip of the ginger-ninja, we’ll wish he was back turning his blind eyes.’
Romney heard them relieving themselves and had to clench his buttocks tightly to prevent betraying his presence, something he suddenly didn’t want to do.
‘Mate of mine, works traffic out of Maidstone, says she went in there like a blood-thirsty Eskimo on a timed seal cull. Half of CID kicked out, demoted, put back into uniform or moved on. Even a DI got taken down to DS.’ They were washing their hands, now. ‘One person’s shoes I would not like to be in at the moment is Romney’s. Not for all the chicken chow mein in China.’ They laughed.
As Romney heard the door open and close and the still-laughing men leave, he let his stream go. His great relief at that was tempered by his niggling anxiety at what he’d just overheard.
***
2
Romney went to CID and spoke to DC Harmer and the young man new to upstairs, acting DC Fower, about making themselves available in the meeting room shortly.
Detective Sergeant Marsh was at her desk. Grimes tested the properties of a chair next to her. Both were staring intently at the monitor of her computer. As Romney approached, they looked up – a little guiltily, he thought. By the time he was with them it was Marsh’s desktop image that filled the screen. He said nothing. If it wasn’t work-related, he didn’t want to know.
He perched on the next table, something he hadn’t been able to do comfortably for a while. ‘Our new super has called a meeting of all CID personnel. Don’t go anywhere. She’ll be up soon.’
‘What for, gov?’ said Grimes.
‘No idea. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up she’s handing out merit badges or homemade cookies. Did you use the bathroom scales this morning?’
‘Might have.’
‘Well you’ve broken them. They don’t go back to zero. And you left a plate in there.’
‘Sorry, gov. I was in a rush once I saw what the time was.’
‘And what did we agree about using the toilet? If you want to take a dump use the WC by the laundry room. I keep my toothbrush in the bathroom. You could at least have opened a window.’
‘Right, gov. Sorry. Won’t happen again. I was caught short just as I was getting in the shower.’
Romney made a face, checked his watch, stood and went into his office.
‘What did he mean: he keeps his toothbrush in the bathroom? Where else would you keep it?’ said Marsh.
Grimes let a small belch escape him behind his hand. ‘It’s not that. It’s his Particle Theory.’
‘You mean the kinetic theory of matter?’
‘Eh? How do you know about that?’
‘I’m interested in physics.’
‘Really?’ said Grimes, sounding quite unimpressed. ‘No, it’s not quite as complex as that. Governor has this theory about poo particles. That’s why he doesn’t want me crapping in his bathroom.’
‘Poo particles?’
Grimes reclined and the chair protested. He folded his hands across his impressive waistline. ‘When I moved in, he gave me this big lecture about dos and don’ts. Part of that was his poo particle theory. He reckons that because shit stinks
Romney shared a grin. ‘Good luck. I’ve just come from there. Do you know why she’s here?’ The uniformed inspector shook his head. ‘I won’t spoil it for you then. It’s quite a speech. How’s that PC I shared my coffee with this morning?’
‘She’ll live. You might get a cleaning bill. A box of chocolates and a bunch of flowers might stop her making an official complaint.’
*
Next stop was the gents. Preferring the privacy of the cubicles to the exposure of the urinals, he was standing preparing to perform his bodily function when two officers burst through the main door, speaking loudly.
‘Yeah, well, you can take it from me, things won’t be the same around here any more. Old Falkner might have been one part soft, three parts useless but trust me, after a few weeks in the grip of the ginger-ninja, we’ll wish he was back turning his blind eyes.’
Romney heard them relieving themselves and had to clench his buttocks tightly to prevent betraying his presence, something he suddenly didn’t want to do.
‘Mate of mine, works traffic out of Maidstone, says she went in there like a blood-thirsty Eskimo on a timed seal cull. Half of CID kicked out, demoted, put back into uniform or moved on. Even a DI got taken down to DS.’ They were washing their hands, now. ‘One person’s shoes I would not like to be in at the moment is Romney’s. Not for all the chicken chow mein in China.’ They laughed.
As Romney heard the door open and close and the still-laughing men leave, he let his stream go. His great relief at that was tempered by his niggling anxiety at what he’d just overheard.
***
2
Romney went to CID and spoke to DC Harmer and the young man new to upstairs, acting DC Fower, about making themselves available in the meeting room shortly.
Detective Sergeant Marsh was at her desk. Grimes tested the properties of a chair next to her. Both were staring intently at the monitor of her computer. As Romney approached, they looked up – a little guiltily, he thought. By the time he was with them it was Marsh’s desktop image that filled the screen. He said nothing. If it wasn’t work-related, he didn’t want to know.
He perched on the next table, something he hadn’t been able to do comfortably for a while. ‘Our new super has called a meeting of all CID personnel. Don’t go anywhere. She’ll be up soon.’
‘What for, gov?’ said Grimes.
‘No idea. But I wouldn’t get your hopes up she’s handing out merit badges or homemade cookies. Did you use the bathroom scales this morning?’
‘Might have.’
‘Well you’ve broken them. They don’t go back to zero. And you left a plate in there.’
‘Sorry, gov. I was in a rush once I saw what the time was.’
‘And what did we agree about using the toilet? If you want to take a dump use the WC by the laundry room. I keep my toothbrush in the bathroom. You could at least have opened a window.’
‘Right, gov. Sorry. Won’t happen again. I was caught short just as I was getting in the shower.’
Romney made a face, checked his watch, stood and went into his office.
‘What did he mean: he keeps his toothbrush in the bathroom? Where else would you keep it?’ said Marsh.
Grimes let a small belch escape him behind his hand. ‘It’s not that. It’s his Particle Theory.’
‘You mean the kinetic theory of matter?’
‘Eh? How do you know about that?’
‘I’m interested in physics.’
‘Really?’ said Grimes, sounding quite unimpressed. ‘No, it’s not quite as complex as that. Governor has this theory about poo particles. That’s why he doesn’t want me crapping in his bathroom.’
‘Poo particles?’
Grimes reclined and the chair protested. He folded his hands across his impressive waistline. ‘When I moved in, he gave me this big lecture about dos and don’ts. Part of that was his poo particle theory. He reckons that because shit stinks
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