Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch [30]
It was at that point that Lesley and I decided to intervene, but we hadn’t even had time to step forward and ask what the problem was, when Ms Munroe made her move. It happened very quickly, and as is often the case with unexpected events it took us a few moments to register what was going on. Fortunately we were both sufficiently street-seasoned not to freeze, and we each grabbed a shoulder and tried to drag the woman off poor Mr Ranatunga. Her grip on his neck was so strong that Mr Ranatunga was pulled back across the counter as well. By now one of the girls was hysterical and apparently the eldest, Antonia, started beating me across the back with her fists, but I didn’t feel it at the time. Ms Munroe’s lips were drawn back in a rictus of rage, the tendons standing out on her neck and forearms. Mr Ranatunga’s face was darkening, his lips turning blue.
Lesley got her thumb into the pressure point on Ms Munroe’s wrists and she let go in such a hurry that we both went sprawling backwards onto the floor. She landed on top of me, so I tried to pin her arms but not before she got a vicious elbow into my ribs. I used my weight and strength advantage to tip her off and roll her face down into the popcorn smelling carpet. Of course, I didn’t have my cuffs with me, so I had to hold her with both hands behind her back. Legally speaking, once you’ve laid hands on a suspect you pretty much have to arrest them. I gave her the caution and she went limp. I looked over at Lesley, who had not only tended to the injured man but had corralled the children and called in the incident to Charing Cross.
‘If I let you up,’ I asked, ‘are you going to behave?’
Ms Munroe nodded. I let roll over and sit up where she was.
‘I just wanted to go to the pictures,’ she said. ‘When I was young you just went to the local Odeon and said “a ticket please”, and you gave them money and they gave you a ticket. When did it become so complicated? When did these disgusting nachos arrive? I mean, what the fuck is a nacho, anyway?’ One of the girls giggled nervously at the profanity.
Lesley was writing in her official notebook. You know in the caution when it says ‘anything that you do say may be used in evidence against you’, well, this is what they’re talking about.
‘Is that boy hurt?’ She looked at me for reassurance. ‘I don’t know what happened. I just wanted to talk to someone who could speak English properly. I went on holiday to Bavaria last summer and everyone spoke English really well. I bring my kids down to the West End and everyone’s foreign. I don’t understand a word they’re saying.’
I suspected that some total bastard at the CPS could parlay that into a racially aggravated crime. I caught Lesley’s eye and she sighed but stopped taking notes.
‘I just wanted to go to the pictures,’ repeated Ms Munroe.
Salvation arrived in the form of Inspector Neblett who took one look at us and said, ‘I just can’t let you two out of my sight, can I?’ He didn’t fool me. I knew he’d been rehearsing that line the whole way over.
Nonetheless, we all trooped back to the nick to complete the arrest and do the paperwork. And that’s three hours of my life I won’t get back in a hurry. We ended up, like all coppers on overtime, in the canteen where we drank tea and filled in forms.
‘Where’s the Case Progression Unit when you need it?’ said Lesley.
‘Told you we should have seen Seven Samurai,’ I said.
‘Did you think there was something odd about the whole thing?’ asked Lesley.
‘Odd, how?’
‘You know,’ said Lesley, ‘middle-aged woman suddenly goes bonkers and attacks someone in a cinema, in front