Savage Night - Allan Guthrie [19]
Pretty close now. Trying to look hard. And him just a wee guy, too, no bigger than Grant. Had his work cut out. Glass jaw, no doubt, no matter how tight it was clenched. Hands at his side now like he was some cowboy about to reach for his gun. Only he didn't have a gun. Just a truncheon and a can of doctored deodorant.
Sorry, not a truncheon. A baton, they called it. Extendable. If the cop didn't back off, Park would take it off him, extend it fully, and ram it up his arse for him.
That'd teach him to accuse an innocent person.
The cop came to a halt. "You can't urinate in doorways."
"Didn't," Park told him.
"You were clearly doing so. I saw you."
"Not me." Park paused. "You must have imagined it. You see anything?" he asked Grant and Martin.
"Wasn't looking," Martin said. Grant shook his head.
"Been taking drugs or anything?" Park asked the cop.
The runty wee tosspot ignored him, pointed to the puddle on the ground. "So what's that?"
"Puddle."
"Exactly. A puddle. A puddle of urine." He pronounced urine to rhyme with wine.
"Could be anything," Park said. "Puddle of water. Clear soup. Perfume."
"It's urine."
They stood in a group looking at the puddle.
"If you say so," Park said. "Hard to tell without sniffing it. Want to get on your knees, have a go?"
"I don't need to," the cop said. "It's fucking urine."
"Maybe," Park said. "Not mine, though." He winked at Grant."Not mine urine." Rhyming it with wine.
"It's fresh."
"If you say so."
"It's still trickling down the pavement."
"So it is."
"You're still denying that was you?"
"Right."
The cop sucked his lips in and said, "You were facing the door."
"That a crime?"
"Why were you facing the door if it wasn't in order to urinate?"
"Interesting door," Park said. "Just having a good look at it."
"Jesus," the cop said, his fingers clenching and unclenching by his side. "Go home."
"Nope. I'm going drinking."
"You're not."
"Going to stop me, are you?"
"Mr Park," Martin said. "Andy. Give it up."
"Right. Give him my name, why don't you, Martin?" Park shook his head, said to the cop, "Come on, then. Let's see what you've got."
The cop's facial muscles were all tight. "Take him home, please," he said, this time to Martin. Then to Park: "If I see you again tonight, Mr Park, Andy, you're in the cells." And he started to walk away.
Park said, "Don't turn your back on me, you dickless coward. Hey, I'm talking to you. Come back here and clean up your piss."
The cop stopped. Turned. Spoke slowly and quietly: "Go home before I lose my temper."
"Oh, I'm scared now. Maybe so scared I'll piss myself. Or I would if I needed."
The fucker gave him the finger.
Park held himself back. Couldn't go around causing any serious damage. Although being arseholed took the edge off his reaction. And he was most definitely arseholed.
Cause he was so bloody happy that Liz was out of that shithole. Had to celebrate. Effie had said, "Go out, enjoy yourselves."
Which they'd done. Even Grant, who was on orange juices and cokes on account of looking too young to get served. He claimed he looked his age, but looking seventeen was no help.
"He's gone," Martin said.
And he had. The cop had rounded the corner.
"You know it's not his fault," Grant said.
"What you talking about?"
"You're taking it out on the policeman because of McCracken."
McCracken. Pissbastardfuckwankertwat. Grant was right. He might only look his age and be extremely short but he was a smart lad.
Park had visited Liz that afternoon.
***
She was lying on her bed, pillow over her face.
Mrs H said, "I'm Mrs H, how do you do? Shhh. She's sleeping."
He grabbed the pillow off Liz's face, chucked it at Mrs H.
Liz had a Tesco bag on her head. He pulled it off, nestling the back of her head in his palm. Her hair was warm and damp.
She was breathing, thank God. Eyes open. Unblinking. Looking right through him.
He said to Mrs H, "Did you do this, you witless old tit?"
"Language," she said. "Any more of that and I'll arrest you." Then she spoke some