A Raucous Time

  *

   

  WPC Hewes dragged a chair from somewhere to sit in the open doorway as though Rhyllann might try to escape. Crombie sat at the bottom of his bed like a malignant tooth fairy. Rhyllann wondered why they didn’t turn the light on, then why they weren’t using an interview room. The room felt cramped and claustrophobic, Rhyllann edged to the top of the bed, drawing his dirty bare feet up under him. It seemed he had slept in the army gear which smelled embarrassingly musty and he determined not to move around too much. Crombie swung himself round so they were facing each other, one foot rested casually across his knee, the other remained on the ground. For all the world as though they were best mates or something.

   

  ‘Well? What have I done now?’ Rhyllann asked sharply forgetting to humour Crombie.

  Crombie raised an eyebrow, from his looks he hadn’t had a very good night either. Apart from the red rims around them, his eyes had almost disappeared in his face, which showed the beginnings of a beard making him look more like a villain than a copper. He wore a bright red t-shirt and faded mud splattered blue jeans tucked into long green socks.

  ‘You know – if you had orange trousers on you could stop traffic.’ Rhyllann blurted before he could stop himself. This prompted another snort from the policewoman, but a look of amusement crossed Crombie’s face, and suddenly memories came flooding. Rhyllann leaned across to grab Crombie, kneeling upright to shake him.

  ‘Where is he? What have you done with him?’ he shouted. He sensed the policewoman dart forward and swivelled to swat her away, but then Crombie caught him, forcing him to sit back. Rhyllann opened his mouth to scream into his face, but Crombie shook him firmly by the shoulders, all the while making soothing talk.

  ‘It's ok. He’s safe. Hear me now – listen to me. Wren’s safe and well in hospital.’

  Rhyllann looked up into Crombie's concerned face and recognised the truth. He slumped forwards as Crombie relaxed his grip, resuming his place at the bottom of the bed.

  ‘Sorry. I’m sorry.’ He should apologise to the policewoman too, he had practically slapped her face. ‘I’m sorry WPC Hewes.’ Her face was red with anger and she wouldn’t look at him.

  ‘Don’t mention it.’ She said stiffly. Crombie glanced up at her, and then towards Rhyllann.

  ‘Christine, do you think you could rustle up some more tea please?’ Without replying she stalked off.

  ‘We’re both in trouble now. She’ll report you for assault and me for being sexist.’

  Rhyllann tried to smile at this, Crombie made some lame arse jokes. At least Rhyllann hoped he was joking. But he had other things on his mind.

  ‘Detective Crombie? Is Wren gonna be okay?’

  Crombie nodded. ‘Bruising to the chest, a couple of cracked ribs, a mild infection to his foot.’

  Rhyllann buried his head in his hands, pressing hard against his eyes.

  ‘He died you know. He was dead. I thought I’d never get him breathing again.’ Once again the terrible emptiness of a future without the Prince of Geek swamped him, dry heaves ran through his body as he tried to push the horrific memories away.

  When Rhyllann looked up he found WPC Hewes had returned with a tray of tea and both adults were staring at him. WPC Hewes thrust the tray into Crombie’s hands and bent to embrace him, smelly clothes and all.

  ‘You poor little sod.’ She said. The floodgates opened and Rhyllann could barely speak through his tears. He told her everything, noting when Crombie slipped away, noticing that she stiffened when he described how they had found the box and almost been discovered by the remaining gang. When he finished, Rhyllann felt strangely light as though a load had been shed.

  ‘You poor little sod.’ She said again. Then: ‘You misheard the name Crombie. One of that gang must have a similar name. And don’t worry about Wren. He’s in good hands now.’

  But he barely heard her, a deep fatigue swept over him and his need to sleep out weighed the need to shower and use the bathroom. He felt covers being drawn around him, WPC Hewes’s voice whispering in his ear, asking him where the box was now. But Rhyllann couldn’t remember.

  ‘Wren. Wren holds the key.’ He muttered before falling into a deep sleep.