Posted: 04 September 2011 at 3:08pm | IP Logged

I didn’t realise that I was suddenly so popular. Chauffer-driven and all; but I knew these boys weren’t intended to carry me home.

              The short ride ended and I was led into one of the interrogation rooms at one of the outlying San Francisco police stations. I hope they weren’t going to be long; I had a pressing date with Ms Eden. Ah yes the station, brought back all the bitter, never very sweet memories of trying to prise information or indeed a genuine confession out of the whole gamut of clam-mouthed losers, bruisers and all sorts of wrong turn choosers.

             And now I’m the one at the table, looking up as two suited detectives try to stare me out. Feeling more than a bit on edge, I go to pull out my silver cigarette case, so I have something to fiddle with. Then I remembered, I’d donated it to the After the Fire travelling circus appeal. Costs of spontaneous generosity.

           ‘We gonna make this quick and simple, Douglas. When you leave this station there’s just one thing to remember in your head. Like a trucker on the highway, you’re leaving this State. For good.’

             ‘Please, don’t beat about the bush; just give it to me straight.’ I could tell very quickly that the two detectives were not impressed with my insouciance.

             I continued, as their world-weary scowls fixed down on me. ‘I’ve got a legitimate business and I’ve absolutely no plans to leave California. Just what the heck gives you the idea that you need to run me out of town?’

           ‘You’re asking too many questions, you’ve annoyed the wrong people Mr Private Dick. Are you packing a rod?’

           I opened my jacket to show the corner of my shoulder holster. ‘Yep, licensed to thrill boys.’

           The silent one of the duo, pulled out a sheet of paper, held it over the waste bin and set light to it.

             ‘Looks like your licence just got revoked. Leave the piece on the table as you make your way out.’

              I was hoping to comeback with a cutting riposte, but I ain’t smart and my name’s not Alec.

               I complied with the request, little option otherwise. Every mother’s son I said to myself, these jokers were serious.

             ‘Douglas you can go. And tell me, just how did it feel to be drummed out of Homicide?’

             ‘Well, maybe I’ve always marched to a different beat. Anyway, if that’s everything, I’m on my way. Message received over and out. But think on friends, when I had a badge I knew I was living off the official payroll, not dirty backhanders from the local crime network. So tell me, how does that feel?’

              ‘It’s been a pleasure,’ I embroidered upon the truth. ‘Got a hot date with a gal and a crazy rocking band.’