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alternative weblog |
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entry 65 - 7th March 02
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fire number two I headed back to my flat at about ten this morning
to the sight of several lengths of blue and white striped police cordon
tape blocking the downstairs entrance. There were three police cars parked directly outside, and a police canine unit van a little further down the road. A plain clothes police bloke was unloading an alsation from the back of it. I approached the cordon tape with the intention of ducking under it and heading upstairs when I was hailed from behind by a regular copper, in a helmet...
"Up to my flat," I said. "Oh no you're not, he said. At this point another uniformed copper appeared from inside, speaking to me through the cordon tape... "Dave Bahan?" he said. And I've got to admit to freezing at this moment. The enormity of actually killing Tim-tom suddenly struck home, and I imagined that this was the potential scene after the Angmering Radio Control Aircraft Display. Then I kind of shook myself together again, realising I hadn't actually done anything yet... apart from selling a fraudulently obtained credit card to Brendan's mate, but no alarm bells would be going off about that until Lloyds/TSB wised up, which'd be well over a month away. "Dave Bahan?" repeated the copper. "Er, no. Duncan Donaldo," I said. "Top flat, number five," stated the copper, checking a list. "Yes," I said. I suddenly had visions of my flat having already been turned over, with the police discovering my nest of Dave Bahan correspondence. What else would they have found? The matchbox containing Tim-tom's 'Juice' for starters. I had half a bag of F1 Super Skunk in my kitchen drawer, as well, and the mirror on the floor in the lounge had loads of old traces of speed and coke on it. "Okay sir, you can come in. Another officer will be wanting to speak with you later. Will you be around for the next hour hour or so?" I said I would, and headed upstairs.
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"Oy,
where do you think you're going?"
