‘Right then sunshine’, the policeman growled, as his gnarled hand clasped around my
shoulder, ‘we’ll be having no more of your fun and games’. I literally felt like I jumped out of
my skin. I looked back at the policeman, he was tall, with slicked back short hair and had a
funny ‘Hitler esque’ moustache, whether he meant to or not.
‘Sorry, wrong person, you haven’t seen another of your kind around here, have you?’ he
said not sounding sorry. ‘No’ I said apologetically. The policeman moved off and I sighed in
huge relief, after the running, slipping and tripping I’d finally lost him. I did think to myself,
what did he mean my kind? I know what I would like to do to ‘his kind’, being dark skinned
in this day and age is not a crime.
The year 1989 and with all the upheaval of moving from a rural town to the cosmopolitan
city, I’m finding it a little hard to adjust. The smells, noise and sights are just overwhelming.
From the fast food to the noisy betting shops, I mean apart from the fact I had to move here
to work, who would come here otherwise?
The job wasn’t much, it was just another office job, but another office job with better
benefits, a company vehicle and my own cubicle, at last, no more having to share a phone
bank with other people’s bad habits and sticky elbows. The manager was alright too, he
would check on your welfare occasionally, but he had a different quirk, unfortunately he
had sticky hands, the ones that would stick to your body, thinking about it is making me
cringe, he is old enough to be my father.
As new to the city I decided to take in the sights of the more cultural aspects and ended up
at the museums and art galleries, loving it so far. Walking down by the Thames after a few
nights getting to know the area I came across what looked like a denim jacket covered in
various badges of the time with a huge blood stain on it, the jacket was worn and the stain
was dark red, my mind is moving fast and my heart almost skips a beat, where’s the jackets
owner? are they still alive? this is a lot of blood.
A noise not far away brings my panicked brain back to reality, looking up, I see in the
distance something floating on the top of the water, going up to see I almost retch, it’s a
body, gnarled and twisted, with wrinkled features and a big chest wound that has congealed
in the water, the smell is vile, like an open sewer. Resisting the urge to be sick I race off to
find someone in authority, clutching the blood-soaked jacket in my hands I run past
homeless crack heads down alley ways, and teenage boys either on BMX bikes or
skateboards, they shout at each other as they rush past me on the pavement.
The police station was crowded, it was a Friday night, lots of people were jockeying for
position, I nearly get crushed by the crowd, eventually reaching the desk sergeant.
‘Help me please, I found this down by the water, and there was a dead person not far from
it.’
Looking desperately into the sergeants’ eyes I realise it was the policeman from earlier, this
is not good.
‘A blood-soaked jacket, I take it this isn’t yours’
‘No, I just brought it for evidence’
‘So, you had nothing to do with the death of this person?’
‘No, I’m new to the area, I’m scared and you really think that’s motivation for killing
someone?’
‘People have been killed for less’
‘Well, I didn’t do it’
Another head appeared from out of the background and spoke up. ‘Knock it off Sergeant’,
‘She clearly didn’t do this’.
I handed it to the other man, who was clearly a detective, as he was wearing plain clothes
with his badge on his belt buckle.
I was asked to show him where I found it and where the body was. The detective was kind
and said I had nothing to worry about. Thank God, my heart had skipped many beats, and I
won’t forget that smell in a hurry. Only problem is that the perpetrator was unknown and
there is someone following me, looking into a shop reflection I pause, is that my new
manager behind me?