A Different Turf. Jon Cleary

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СКАЧАТЬ other side of the playground a child screamed and there was a rush of mothers towards a see-saw where a child had fallen off.

      ‘Did you notice any stranger around here yesterday?’ Kagal spoke for the first time. Malone could feel the tension in him, as palpable as if he had his hand on the younger man’s arm.

      ‘There might of been.’ Coulson was less arrogant now; there was tension in him, too. ‘People come and go all the time through here. It’s a short-cut to the other side of the park. We’d of noticed him, though, if he was a poof.’

      ‘Really? How does a poof look? Like this?’ Kagal was baiting him; he put a hand on his hip in an exaggerated stance. Malone let him coast: Bob Anders’ friend had a score to settle here.

      ‘Some of ’em, yeah. But you can smell ’em, if you know who you’re looking for.’

      ‘And you go looking for them every Saturday night?’ Kagal took his hand off his hip; Malone relaxed. For a moment he had feared that the situation was going to get out of hand.

      ‘Friday nights, too. It’s open season all week round.’ Occasionally Coulson showed flashes of another personality, one who had had some education.

      ‘Are you still at school or do you work?’ asked Malone.

      ‘He’s just finished his first year at uni,’ said Stefanopolous with some pride; but Coulson didn’t look pleased at the disclosure.

      ‘What are you taking?’ said Kagal.

      Coulson was off-handed, as if he preferred the subject had not been raised. ‘Arts. History.’

      ‘What happened to you?’ said Malone. ‘Turned you into a poofter-basher? Did something happen to you as a kid?’

      He wondered if Justin Langtry had ever mentioned to the gang what his stepfather had done to him. He felt Kagal look at him, but he didn’t return the glance. He felt certain Kagal would raise the question with him later.

      ‘Jesus!’ Coulson half-turned away in disgust. ‘Why does anyone have to be molested to hate gays? It’s just fucking natural, isn’t it? I mean if you’re natural. Normal?’

      ‘Homosexuality has been around a long time,’ said Kagal quietly.

      ‘Sure it has. The Greeks invented it, didn’t you, Steve? Socrates and his boys, stuffing it up their bums and telling them to be philosophical about it.’

      Stefanopolous did not look happy at belonging to a nation that supposedly had bred homosexuality. ‘Ah shit, I dunno about that—’

      ‘I think it was long before the Greeks,’ said Kagal, still quietly. ‘The Sumerians practised it Didn’t they, Inspector?’

      Malone hadn’t a clue who the Sumerians were. ‘All the time.’

      Coulson looked at Kagal with sudden interest. ‘Hullo, a cop who knows some history. Yeah, I guess the Sumerians might’ve had a go at it. Who knows, even Abel might’ve put the hard word on Cain before Cain slew him? Or shoved a jawbone up his ass.’ He giggled at the weak joke, but only Stefanopolous laughed, a forced laugh. ‘The point is, it’s fucking un-natural and nothing has had to happen to you to hate the fucking idea of it!’ He was abruptly angry.

      Malone decided the discussion had gone far enough. ‘Whoever started it, the Sumerians or the Greeks or whoever, it’s with us, it’s a fact of life. Stay away from Oxford Street and the Cross—’

      ‘There are poofters up the road here in Newtown,’ said Stefanopolous. ‘And dykes, too. We gotta stay away from there?’

      ‘You just don’t go out looking to bash them up. Obviously the killer – or the killers—’

      ‘Killers?’ said Coulson; he had been about to bounce the ball again, but stopped. ‘There’s more than one of them?’

      ‘We think so. Three men and a woman. The woman shot Justin, but there have been three other kids shot, poofter-bashers. The killers in those instances were men, three different men. Any one of them, they call themselves a consortium, they could be looking for you to be next. Now they know who you are.’

      ‘Do we get police protection then?’

      It was the cops’ turn to laugh. ‘You’ve got a hide. Write your local MP, tell him you’re an innocent victim. Maybe he’ll ask the Commissioner to do something about it, but I doubt it.’

      Coulson turned slowly, right round, then he faced the two detectives again. The arrogance had gone, he looked uncertain, though not afraid. ‘If he comes after us, can we shoot him in self-defence?’

      ‘Do you have a gun?’

      ‘No.’ Meaning not yet.

      ‘Don’t get one. You could finish up like Justin. Or he might even go berserk and kill more than one of you. I mean it, Les – don’t start playing cowboys and Indians. Leave it to us to catch these people.’

      ‘You haven’t done much so far, have you? In the meantime, we’re just sitting ducks.’ He looked around him again.

      ‘You should’ve thought of that before you went out poofter-bashing.’

      Malone looked around. In the park beyond the playground several people sat on park benches, reading newspapers, tossing crumbs to the pigeons, leaning back with their faces turned up to the sun: all innocent. Could he and Kagal go over and ask each one to identify himself or herself, ask them to empty their pockets or handbags? They could, but he could imagine the complaints within the half-hour to Police Head-quarters. There were always voters who cried out for more law and order, but baulked when asked for their own contribution. He turned back to the two youths.

      ‘Stick with your studies at university, Les. History will tell you amateurs should never take on professionals.’

      ‘You think these killers are professionals?’

      ‘Yes.’ He wasn’t sure what they were, but it was the best argument in the circumstances.

      ‘Even the woman?’

      ‘The female of the species …’ said Kagal, chiming in. ‘You must have read Kipling?’

      It seemed that Coulson had not read Kipling, but he was not one to confess ignorance. ‘Yeah, well … Okay, no gun. But if the bastards kill me, I’ll come back to haunt you.’ He grinned, but the grin had trouble staying on his lips. Beside him Stefanopolous had blinked again, flinching a little. ‘One question, though. Are you guys on the gays’ side?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Malone before Kagal could answer. ‘We’re on the side of anyone who’s being bashed for no reason at all. Gays, women, kids. It’s what cops are for.’

      He and Kagal left the two youths and walked back to their car. The mothers watched them like Indian scouts: this was not cop territory. In the car Malone said, ‘Did the Sumerians, whoever they are, practise homosexuality?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ Kagal smiled. ‘But neither did he.’

      Malone looked at him approvingly. СКАЧАТЬ