For Evil to Flourish. Dubya Ph.D Lorimer
'Poleeesh! Geeeegh hiiiim! He cried, gesticulating wildly after the old man. 'Looogh whaaagh heeegh diiigh, he added, pointing to his nose.
'Police.... why?' enquired Sharif. 'I just saw you hassling two old women, then you seemed to have slipped and hit your face, why would the police be interested?'
'Eeegh?' he spluttered, staring at the shopkeeper in disbelief. He looked around for support, but the only other customer in the shop had developed a deep fascination with the price of baked beans. As it gradually dawned on him that he was wasting his time looking for sympathy here, he swore at Sharif as best he could, then stumbled out the door.
Sharif regarded the bloody mess he had left behind with distaste, then called through to the back of the shop,
'Shareen! Could you mind the till, please, while I clean up in here.'
He glanced up at the camera on the ceiling, and thought to himself that it would be wise to wipe the security tape, just in case that little shit did call the police. The last thing he wanted was to be star witness in an assault case against Gerry Hill. He sighed heavily, and went to fetch the mop.
Julie Ross did a twirl in front of the mirror, admiring her purchases. She had never spent so much money on underwear in her life, but she was loving the look and the feel of expensive silk and lace. She did another turn, more slowly this time, making a critical examination of her body, pinching herself here, and squeezing there, before deciding she was well pleased with the effects of recent months attending the gym. Not too bad, she thought to herself, not too bad at all.
The sound of a vehicle outside made her peek out the gap in the curtains. Allan had just pulled up in his pickup truck. Quickly, she stripped off, returned the new underwear to the bag, and kicked it under the bed. By the time her husband had pushed the bedroom door open, she was back in familiar bra and pants, matching only insofar as many trips through the washing machine had given them a uniform shade of pale grey.
Seeing her bend over to pull on a comfy pair of jogging pants, he wolf-whistled, and gave her a playful slap on her behind.
'Behave yourself!' she admonished him, but smiled and gave him a welcoming peck on the cheek as she straightened up. 'The kids are just through there, and dinner's nearly ready, so forget it! Don't be too long with your shower.'
After slipping on a clean tee-shirt, she headed downstairs, with just a quick glance to check that the Victoria's Secrets bag was out of sight beneath the bed. It's contents were not intended for Allan's eyes.
Gavin Ward was enjoying a peaceful and dreamless sleep before being rudely dragged from the arms of Morpheus by his wife digging her elbow in his ribs. It took a second jolt to produce a noticeable reaction.
'What!'
'There's somebody outside.' she whispered.
It was a warm evening, the window facing onto the rear garden was slightly open, the curtains moving lazily in the slight breeze, but despite straining his ears, he could hear nothing.
'Are you su..... Ouch!' He received another dig in the ribs.
'Shsss!' she hissed.
Suddenly, he heard it, a tell-tale scraping, and a familiar metallic rattle. He recognised the sounds.
'It's the ladders, someone's trying to steal my new ladders!'
Suddenly wide awake, Ward headed for the window and threw open the curtains.
'What the bloody hell!!!'
He found himself face to face with a total stranger clinging to the top of his precious ladders, clearly about to climb in the window. For a moment they stared at each other, then suddenly the stranger started to descend as speedily as possible.
'Oh no you don't,' yelled Ward, pulling the window fully open and trying to grab him. As the would-be burglar wriggled free, Ward pushed the ladder away in frustration. There was a strange howl which ended abruptly with a crash.
'Uh-oh,' he muttered to himself, fearing the worst, then was almost relieved to hear swearing and groaning rising out of the gloom.
'Phone the police, love,' Ward said as he hurriedly dressed, then, as an afterthought,
'Maybe better tell them to send an ambulance as well.'
Ward was sitting in his kitchen giving his statement to one of the policemen, explaining that the ladders were normally locked in the garage, but had been left in the back garden that night.
'I was going to finish repairing the roof tomorrow, I never thought for a minute some spawny-eyed wazzock would have the audacity to climb over the fence, let alone have the brass neck to try and climb up to the window. Good job the wife's a light sleeper.'
'They could have dumped him on the floor and stolen the bed,' his wife confirmed, 'And he'd still be snoring away in the morning!'
'Well, anyway, I got to the window, and there he was, this clown trying to climb in! So I made a grab for him, but he got away, and next thing, he's flat out in the middle of the rose bed, squealing like a pig.'
'And you actually pushed the ladders over, while he was on them?' the policeman enquired.
Ward caught his wife's warning look just in time.
'Nooo..... not really. They kind of..... fell over. Sort of.'
As Ward squirmed, the second policeman tapped on the back door, and called his colleague outside. They conferred for a minute or so, then both came inside, looking slightly embarrassed.
'The ambulance has just left, they're taking the fellow to the hospital, but he was fit to give a statement, and I'm sorry Mr Ward, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to caution you with regard to this incident'
'What do you mean? Why would you want to caution me, what have I done?'
'Believe it or not, this lad is denying everything, and claiming you assaulted him.' he raised a placatory hand as the couple started to protest, 'Yes, I know it's nonsense, and will probably never get near court, but it's not for me to decide.'
'You are kidding me! No way, he's lying through his teeth!'
'Just the same, Mr Ward, until the full facts are established, we have to follow procedure.'
Magnanimously, they decided it would not be in the public interest to take any action against Mrs Ward for launching a pair of fluffy slippers at the patrol car as they drove away.
Chapter 2
It would probably be fair to say that James Wellington, Member of Parliament, was unlikely to ever regard this evening as one of the high spots of his political career. He surveyed the venue with a jaundiced eye, taking in the public hall of a drab, grey civic centre, built back in the days when a weather stained concrete block was considered the very pinnacle of architectural design.
A thing of beauty, to be admired for generations to come.
Not.
Tonight it hosted a community forum where members of the public could voice their concerns about local issues to Wellington, Council Chairman Raymond Eades, Superintendent Alex Campbell and community police officer, P.C. Amrita Bachchan.
With government cutbacks affecting so many local jobs and services, Wellington was finding himself to be the whipping boy this evening, berated for every unpopular decision the government had made recently.
In an attempt to shift the focus to more popular initiatives, he made much of the plans to come down hard on the dole cheats and others abusing the benefits system in order to free up