question.
“Well, I heard he was a bit of a gang-banger. Always in trouble with the cops. One of the nurses recognised him. She was none too sympathetic actually. Seemed to think he most likely asked for it.”
Constance revelled in this stuff: divulging information, being of service, relaying something important to the case. Of course, it wasn't really of great import. Stark reckoned it amounted to little more than tittle tattle. Whenever the guy switched into this mode, Stark lost interest in humouring him and, sometimes less than subtly, made his excuses.
“Ok, John. Gotta dash. Duty calls. Thanks for that. Keep your ear to the ground for me now won't you?”
Stark flashed a winning smile and increased his pace towards the exit.
Constance stopped before he wandered into the lobby and risked being noticed by someone who'd rather he got on with doing the job they were paying him to do.
“Will do, Detective Inspector Stark. See you later.”
5. Learning
The laughter swept through the corridor as the pitiful, dripping figure of Frankie Monroe trudged past. The cruellest taunts came from Paddy Kerr and his partner in all things unpleasant, Dan Farrell. I didn't laugh. I watched and I thought about Bub and Gordy, about all that was wrong with this situation.
Kerr and Farrell made it their business to humiliate and degrade Frankie Monroe any time they could. Frankie was small, geeky, clever. He struggled with sport and had the misfortune of a late developing body. For a couple of insecure morons, he presented an unmissable target. That day's ignominy came from having his head flushed down the toilet. A tried and tested, old favourite of school bullies the world over.
I wanted to help, to intervene, but I needed to have more about me. Kerr and Farrell may have been insecure, moronic bullies, but they were also two big, strong lads and they would have happily and easily put me in my place physically. I would change that.
It wasn't exactly an inspiration, but it was while watching the Karate Kid one day that it came to me. That's what I would do to gain an advantage, to help poor, downtrodden little Frankie Monroe and his ilk. Martial Arts.
I was a quick learner. A natural. The athletic flow of my limbs combined with an unrivalled work ethic saw me advance up the belts much quicker than most. I knew beyond any doubt when I was ready. The colour of the belt, the exam passed, irrelevant to my true nature, my true ability.
The day it all changed forever, the day I knew why I was here, arrived spontaneously. Sure, I'd thought about what I might do, considered options but, on the actual day, it was instinct drove me on. Rage against injustice. A dark voice inside.
Frankie had been steadily declining. An already quiet, timid boy became invisible, neglected and ignored by all. A pariah. This was before schools took bullying seriously. To most, it was a rite of passage, an unfortunate affliction the unfortunate needed to endure temporarily. It would toughen them up, it wouldn't do any long-term harm. From the other kid's point of view, they avoided Frankie. They didn't want Kerr and Farrell's high beam to sweep over them by association. As long as they had Frankie to pick on, they'd leave everyone else alone.
It was a scorching day, the sun hammering on the tarmac of the playground. Kerr and Farrell pulled Frankie's trousers and underwear down, pressed his bare flesh against the scorching surface. Frankie squealed like a piglet, but this only encouraged them.
“What's the matter little Wankie Frankie? We thought you'd like a bit of hot cock, you little poof!”
The two lads ended themselves laughing at this. Other kids joined in half-heartedly, some trying to ingratiate themselves with the hard men by congratulating them on their tremendous sense of humour. My indignation burned fiercer than the sun overhead.
Distracted by their convulsions, Kerr and Farrell failed to notice Frankie wriggling away,
“Well, I heard he was a bit of a gang-banger. Always in trouble with the cops. One of the nurses recognised him. She was none too sympathetic actually. Seemed to think he most likely asked for it.”
Constance revelled in this stuff: divulging information, being of service, relaying something important to the case. Of course, it wasn't really of great import. Stark reckoned it amounted to little more than tittle tattle. Whenever the guy switched into this mode, Stark lost interest in humouring him and, sometimes less than subtly, made his excuses.
“Ok, John. Gotta dash. Duty calls. Thanks for that. Keep your ear to the ground for me now won't you?”
Stark flashed a winning smile and increased his pace towards the exit.
Constance stopped before he wandered into the lobby and risked being noticed by someone who'd rather he got on with doing the job they were paying him to do.
“Will do, Detective Inspector Stark. See you later.”
5. Learning
The laughter swept through the corridor as the pitiful, dripping figure of Frankie Monroe trudged past. The cruellest taunts came from Paddy Kerr and his partner in all things unpleasant, Dan Farrell. I didn't laugh. I watched and I thought about Bub and Gordy, about all that was wrong with this situation.
Kerr and Farrell made it their business to humiliate and degrade Frankie Monroe any time they could. Frankie was small, geeky, clever. He struggled with sport and had the misfortune of a late developing body. For a couple of insecure morons, he presented an unmissable target. That day's ignominy came from having his head flushed down the toilet. A tried and tested, old favourite of school bullies the world over.
I wanted to help, to intervene, but I needed to have more about me. Kerr and Farrell may have been insecure, moronic bullies, but they were also two big, strong lads and they would have happily and easily put me in my place physically. I would change that.
It wasn't exactly an inspiration, but it was while watching the Karate Kid one day that it came to me. That's what I would do to gain an advantage, to help poor, downtrodden little Frankie Monroe and his ilk. Martial Arts.
I was a quick learner. A natural. The athletic flow of my limbs combined with an unrivalled work ethic saw me advance up the belts much quicker than most. I knew beyond any doubt when I was ready. The colour of the belt, the exam passed, irrelevant to my true nature, my true ability.
The day it all changed forever, the day I knew why I was here, arrived spontaneously. Sure, I'd thought about what I might do, considered options but, on the actual day, it was instinct drove me on. Rage against injustice. A dark voice inside.
Frankie had been steadily declining. An already quiet, timid boy became invisible, neglected and ignored by all. A pariah. This was before schools took bullying seriously. To most, it was a rite of passage, an unfortunate affliction the unfortunate needed to endure temporarily. It would toughen them up, it wouldn't do any long-term harm. From the other kid's point of view, they avoided Frankie. They didn't want Kerr and Farrell's high beam to sweep over them by association. As long as they had Frankie to pick on, they'd leave everyone else alone.
It was a scorching day, the sun hammering on the tarmac of the playground. Kerr and Farrell pulled Frankie's trousers and underwear down, pressed his bare flesh against the scorching surface. Frankie squealed like a piglet, but this only encouraged them.
“What's the matter little Wankie Frankie? We thought you'd like a bit of hot cock, you little poof!”
The two lads ended themselves laughing at this. Other kids joined in half-heartedly, some trying to ingratiate themselves with the hard men by congratulating them on their tremendous sense of humour. My indignation burned fiercer than the sun overhead.
Distracted by their convulsions, Kerr and Farrell failed to notice Frankie wriggling away,
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