Nancy yawned, stretched and unkinked her neck as the lights came up. The movie was top quality rubbish and would never win an award but did the trick at taking her mind off her life for a few hours. As she picked up her handbag she noticed it was unzipped.
“What the…?” She realised that the guy next to her, was no longer. “Oh come on!”
“What a %$^#g mess!” DCI Angus Ralston said looking at the crime scene inside room 3B of The Paradise. “How much of this was here BEFORE the pedo got his brains bashed in?”
DCI Sam Carling shrugged and exhaled cigar smoke into the room. “No idea Angus.”
“Jesus! I stepped in some brain!” Ralston yelped.
“How long till room ready?” snapped the Sri Lankan dwarf from the doorway.
“Who the ^%%# are you?” asked Ralston as he balanced against the wall to wipe his shoe off.
“Name, not the alphabet you little rat!” Ralston remarked. “How about we call you Quart since you’re like a quarter of a real person, and I can’t say that rubbish you just said.”
“How long till ro…”
“What’s he saying?” Ralston said to Carling. “You talk to him. What was the pedo’s name?”
Carling picked up the wallet on the floor, flicked it open and took out the licence. “Ryan Thomas Clothey. And you talk to him, you named him.”
Ralston motioned for the licence. “Just give me the wallet. Any money?”
“Nah.” Carling tossed the wallet over as he ashed on the floor.
“Shame,” Ralston replied. “Okay Quart, why you harbouring pedo’s?”
“How long for room?”
“Like talking to a &^%$# broken record!” Ralston sighed. “DO. YOU. SPEAKY. ANY. ENGLISH. YOU. STUPID. LITTLE. PRICK? This is what’s wrong with England, too many of you lot coming here without even basic words.””
The small Sri Lankan gave him the finger and stormed back downstairs. Ralston nearly went after him but Carling grabbed his elbow. “Let’s just tag and bag this then head to the pub, okay?”
Ralston nodded in agreement before slamming his fist through the cheap wall leaving a massive hole. “Might call my friend Derek about that. Teach that little half man a lesson.”
“Derek? Is he that fat bald prick of a hotel inspector from the policeman’s ball two years ago?” Carling asked dropping his cigar on the carpet, grinding it out with his heel. “He owes me ten quid!”
Dion let the water wash over him, clearing away the blood and sweat. He felt amazing! Like a ninja or something. Climbing out the window, sneaking into the room below and beating that dirty kiddie fiddler to within an inch of his life. And the molesting sod had about fifteen hundred quid on him so it made it a profitable adventure.
He was all riled up, in more ways than one. Dion wished that, almost like those ridiculous porn storylines, that Nancy would come home and slip into the shower with him.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” Grumbled the manager of the theatre holding up Nancy’s milkshake covered licence. “Maybe don’t drop it in the bin next time.”
“I didn’t!” Nancy snatched it away flicking the pink liquid onto the floor. “Someone stole it. The big guy who sat next to me. Don’t you have cameras in here?”
“Ah no!” He replied looking at the mess on the floor.
Nancy was about to unleash a tirade on the manager but he was only really a boy. She threw her head back and screamed making him jump and everyone around look at what was going on.
“I didn’t touch her!” The manager yelped thrusting his hands up into the air to highlight his statement. Nancy slowly calmed down, wiped her mouth and pointed at him.
“I want a refund and a choc-top,” she growled. “Now!”
Dion looked at the money he’d taken off the paedophile he’d bashed; crouched and shot them with the hair dryer, blowing all the water and soap off them. It wasn’t much but three hundred pounds was three hundred pounds.
His ear caught the distinctive sound of an update on the game.
“Wonder who’s next.”
To be continued...