Chapter 11 #2
“You don’t need to worry about me,” Margo said, munching nut clusters.
“You’re only affected because you can see me and therefore my actions affect your physical environment.
I could invite every spirit I know over for a drug-fueled rave in the lingerie department and your colleagues would be none the wiser. ”
Casey considered this. “Are you saying that if I couldn’t see you, I wouldn’t know that you’d covered the book department in exploded chestnuts?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. My actions produce precisely zero consequences upon the physical world, except to those who can see me, and even that makes it your problem rather than mine.
I once took a shower at Buckingham Palace with King Charles and he had no idea.
” Margo smiled and ran her tongue over her perfectly rouged lips.
“Surely there must be laws against that kind of thing,” Casey responded, trying not to visualize King Charles naked.
“This is a tough job, sweetie pie. I get my kicks where I can.”
—
Casey was still picking bits of nut out of her hair as she let herself out into the freezing goods yard and spotted Ajay leaning against the wall near where she had left her bike, wearing jeans and a red puffer jacket with the hood of a dark green hoodie pulled up.
Her heart gave a joyful little skip at the sight of him.
Gosh, but he was lovely looking! Everything about his face was friendly somehow, the soft curve of his mouth, those big round eyes that made him look guileless while promising hidden depths.
She had to stop herself from sighing with pleasure at the sight of him.
No. We are just friends, she warned herself. And barely even that.
“Hello again,” he said, smiling in a way that made his eyes crinkle at the edges. “I thought I could treat you to that breakfast we talked about.”
Oh dear. That was a very tempting proposition.
“That sounds great, but um…” She couldn’t think of a single excuse.
“Nigel told me that you’ve got a couple of days off after this shift so you’d be less worried about rushing home to bed,” he said, as though he’d expected her to protest.
Nigel. Of course. She could just picture him and Vern congratulating themselves over toast and jam.
She smiled. Ajay was watching her with big, hopeful eyes.
How did anyone ever say no to this man? If she were a criminal, one look from Ajay would be enough for her to confess all.
Dammit, this was like a friendly form of entrapment.
“And I’d really like the chance to explain a few things. About Jared and me,” Ajay went on, keen to widen the chink in her armor.
“There’s really no need…”
“I know. But I’d like to anyway.”
Oh, crikey! “Okay, sure, breakfast would be lovely.”
There wasn’t much open at five thirty in the morning, but the greasy spoon on the corner—aptly named The Greasy Spoon—was situated next to a taxi rank, and the café owners had cunningly discerned that by staying open twenty-four seven they’d catch the custom of all the night drivers, the coppers from the station, and any punters who came looking for a taxi.
Out of normal business hours, the place had the vibe of a social club where mostly everyone knew one another or at the very least the faces were comfortably familiar.
Casey and Nigel had enjoyed many a full English breakfast there after a night shift.
The tabletops and counters were wipe-clean green-speckled Formica and always a little sticky to the touch.
The booth seats were red faux leather with streaks of silver duct tape covering tears in the fabric.
There was always at least one card and one board game being played at all times, and though smoking inside had been outlawed since 2008, the ceiling remained a comforting shade of nicotine brown.
Swags of colored tinsel had been sticky-tacked to the walls, and a small silver Christmas tree that had seen better days sat on the counter beside a charity box and a pile of old magazines.
The radio was tuned to a Christmas station, and hits old, new, and some best left forgotten rang out through the tinny speakers.
A few heads nodded a greeting, and one or two raised an eyebrow as Casey and Ajay entered and chose a booth near the back of the café.
“What’ll it be?” Gil, the chef and owner, shouted over to them from behind the counter.
Gil wore his waist-length dreads tied back with a scrunchie and always had a pen behind his ear.
He was as amiable a fella as you could ever hope to meet, but troublemakers received short shrift and never tried their luck twice.
“A builder’s tea and a full English, please, Gil,” Casey called over.
There was no point pretending that she was the kind of woman who would opt for a fruit bowl for breakfast—not that The Greasy Spoon offered one anyway, although they did a pudding of tinned fruit cocktail with evaporated milk, which was a favorite with Nigel.
“Make that two, please,” Ajay added. Gil fired double finger guns and set to work.
“I’m sorry again about Jared,” Ajay began at same time that Casey asked, “How’s Jared?” and they laughed awkwardly. Casey sat back and stayed quiet.
“He’s all right, a challenging mix of chastened and belligerent.” He raised his eyebrows.
“That’s standard teenager, isn’t it?” she said, smiling. “Are you always up and about this early?”
He squinted his eyes. “Not quite this early, no. I’ve been wanting to talk to you since the other night, and this was my first opportunity; I didn’t want to miss it.”
Casey held her hands up. “I made the decision to call you instead of the police because it felt like the right thing to do, not because I expected anything in return. You don’t owe me an explanation or a breakfast.”
“I’d like to give you one.”
Her eyes widened and she stifled a laugh. “That’s very forward of you, Ajay.”
“Oh god, no!” He cringed and covered his face. “An explanation. I don’t want to give you one like that!”
“All right!” she said, teasing him. “Blimey. None taken. I don’t want to give you one either.”
Ajay flustered. “Wha…? I mean…I didn’t mean. I don’t not want to give you one…”
“You probably need to stop talking about giving me one,” she said, trying to hold down her grin. There was something delicious about teasing Ajay; he did embarrassment so beautifully.
Gil arrived with their mugs of tea. “You all right there, mate?” he asked Ajay, who had developed a sheen of sweat across his forehead.
“He’s just digging himself a hole,” Casey answered for him. Gil nodded and left them to it.
Ajay took a sip of the strong brew followed by a deep breath. “Mind if I start again?”
“Please do,” she replied, smiling.
“Are you going to give me a hard time?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Nah, I’m done, you’re good to go.”
He smiled at her and then looked away, his expression growing serious.
“So, for background. There’s a gang—kind of a mob setup—on the estate where my sister lives, where I used to live too.
Nasty bunch: drug dealing, extortion, loan-sharking; career criminals mostly, all shaved heads and far-right vibes—the kind of people who wave flags and shout at anyone with brown skin to go back to where they came from. ”
“Shit.” Casey winced.
“Yeah.” Ajay leaned his elbow on the table and rubbed his chin, visibly deliberating how much to tell her.
“They ‘employ’ a lot of local kids, use them for drug running, among other things. Last year Jared and his mates ended up in a fight with a couple of their minions. They were provoked, I have no doubt about that; Jared’s mate took a swing, and all hell broke loose.
I was on my way round to my sister’s after my shift and walked straight into seeing Jared getting pummeled by a neanderthal with a tattooed head. ” He rubbed his face with his hands.
He looked weary, haunted even.
“I should have just pulled him out of there and called the police, but I didn’t. I saw red. I threw a punch. I’m not proud of myself.”
“You were defending your nephew.” She didn’t condone violence, but if some bloke was beating up Conner or Ellory, she’d be throwing punches too.
He winced and ran his hand through his hair.
“I was still in uniform,” he said dejectedly.
“The long and short of it is, I got suspended and then eventually transferred to Weaverston. It was decided that working so close to home was a ‘conflict of interests.’ It makes sense; they can’t have a copper running around performing vigilante justice. ”
“I’m so sorry,” said Casey. “It must have been hard to leave everyone behind like that.” Did he have someone back in London, she wondered. Was he nursing a broken heart?
“It was hard to move away from Tanzie—my sister—and to leave my mates, obviously. But Jared came with me, much to his disgust.”
No mention of a girlfriend. That ought not to have flooded her with as much relief as it did.
“So, how come Jared came with you?”
“After the incident his card was marked. Not only was he the ‘wrong’ color but he had an uncle on the force. The intimidation got worse, Tanzie was afraid to let him go out, but that only caused fights between them. When my suspension ended and I was told I’d be transferred, Tanzie asked if Jared could come with me, to give things a chance to cool off a bit.
She was convinced that he was in danger and that it was only a matter of time before the intimidation escalated to violence.
She was probably right. I guess you could say we’re both in exile. ”
“I’m so sorry, Ajay. I just, I can’t imagine…Poor Tanzie feeling she needed to send Jared away for his own protection.” Another thought occurred to her. “What about the gang?”
Ajay shook his head. “What about them? You have to catch them in the act to have any chance of stopping them.” His expression was resigned.
“But you did catch them.”