I saw it all. I happened to be in the right spot to see the event unfold as it happened. I know the police will want to speak to me. A key witness is what they’ll call me. I could give them the details they need. Well, apart from the name of the man who did it? That would be a bit much.
Do I want to speak to the police though? I know what they’ll think about me. They’ll take one look at my appearance, they’ll hear the accent, and they’ll assume that I’m trash. Just a local scally with nothing better to do than sit outside the pub. With my rollies and a glass of the cheapest ale. Looking down their noses at me, whilst all the time trying not to breathe through them. In case I emit a less than pleasant odour. I don’t; my clothes may be old, but they are clean. As am I, I shower every day. I have a job too. It may be a zero-hours’ contract, but I work at least three days a week in a warehouse. Keeps me fit and pulls in enough money to get by. I can afford to get baccy and papers, and the occasional pint. When I’m not working I like to watch the world go by.
Two policemen are moving up the street to where I sit. They’re stopping at each of the shops. They’ll be asking if anybody has seen anything. They’ll get to me in time. Will they even bother to stop and speak to me? Do I look like a reliable witness in their eyes? Only time will tell. I roll myself another rollie. I use a small amount of baccy from the pouch. I retrieve the butt from my last rollie taking the small filter from it to use again. No point in wasting them, they’re usually good for three or four rollies. I lick the edge of the paper to complete the rollie. It’s the only part I don’t like. I take a sip of my ale to remove the taste of the gum from my mouth.
Besides the policemen working their way up the road, there’s little movement out on the pavement. Not a lot of people tend to walk down this road. Or if they do, they’re only walking from where they’ve left their car to get to whatever shop they need to visit. People live in the flats over the shops. I see glimpses of them in their windows overlooking the road. Not many of them walk down this road though. They enter their flats through the ginnel to the rear of the buildings. Climb up the grey concrete steps to the grey concrete walkway that provides access to the flats.
I’ve been up there inside a couple of the flats. They look a lot better on the inside that they do from down here. They’re fitted out and decorated more in the manner of the new posh blocks of flats over in Castlefield. Only they’re a lot cheaper to rent or own down here. You can’t charge the same kind of prices as you would in Castlefield in a run down, crime-ridden part of the city like this. It can be dangerous around here. If you’re not switched on you could easily get turned over. Mugged in the street, or your flat robbed whilst you’re out at work. It’s not a neighbourhood watch scheme area around here. More a case of watch out in this neighbourhood.
It’s exactly that kind of thing I saw this afternoon. That’s why the police are here. That’s why they are moving up the road asking questions. They’ve now got to the shop next to the pub and gone inside. It’s one of those mobile phone shops. You know the ones. The ones that promise they can unlock any phone. The ones with thousands of phone cases, for every model of phone. Apart from the one you have obviously. They also have second hand phones for sale. They’ll buy them off you with no questions asked. There isn’t a hope in hell they’ll tell the police anything. They’ll want them out of the shop as quickly as possible. They don’t want the police poking around asking questions about where they got their stock from. If asked, whoever’s working in there today will be saying, ‘sorry, no, haven’t seen a thing. I’ve just been sat at the counter watching the shop.’ They’ll tell the police that the CCTV isn’t working; the camera is just for show as a deterrent. They’ll do anything short of physically pushing the policemen out of the door to get rid of them as soon as possible.
See, what did I tell you? The two of them are out of there already, and here they come. The first of the two policemen glances at me and just walks past to go inside the pub. He’s about to push the door when the second of them stops to speak to me.
The second officer is a lot younger that his partner. He can only be in his mid-twenties. He isn’t as world weary as his older partner. He isn’t as cynical and beaten down. He doesn’t see me as someone to ignore. He’s that little bit more enthusiastic. He may look at me and think I’m a scally, but he doesn’t dismiss me as not worth speaking to. I hear a deep sigh from his partner as the younger officer starts to speak.
“Hello sir, have you been sat here for long this afternoon?”
I smile inwardly at being called sir. I tell myself to keep things as simple as possible, no need to say more than is necessary.
“Yeah, a while.”
“We’re investigating an incident that happened down the road about an hour ago. Were you here then?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you noticed anything unusual?”
“Such as?”
“Anything out of the ordinary. Someone acting suspiciously? Someone running up the road possibly?”
“Is it something to do with the offie on the corner down the road?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, that’s where you started when you got here. I’ve watched you making your way up here since then.”
“Well sir, there has been an incident at Boozerama, but we can’t divulge any details at this point in time.”
“As it happens I did see something unusual, not long before you pair turned up.”
“Would you care to tell us what that was sir?”
Here it was the crux of the situation. Should I tell them it all in one go, or let them ask me specific questions and give one-word answers to them?
“Yeah, I don’t see why not. I was sat here with a fresh pint watching the world go by. I like to sit and watch the world go by.
I heard the older policeman sigh deeply again, and was sure if I looked at him I’d have seen him rolling his eyes. The younger officer just nodded letting me carry on.
“I saw this bloke coming down the road over there, looking like he’d come down from Barney’s Tip. He turned and walked down to the offie and went it. There was no missing the bloke. He’d got the brightest orange tracksuit on. The kind you could see from space. Couldn’t take my eyes off it. No sooner had he walked in the offie then the bloke who runs the place literally came flying out of the door head first. He crashes into the lamppost and ends up in a heap on the floor. The bloke in the orange tracksuit comes out a couple of minutes later carrying half a dozen bags and does a funny little trot-like run down the road towards Red Bank.”
“Could you describe the man anymore? Height, build, ethnicity, hair colour?”
“Difficult to say, the bright orange tracksuit is the thing that sticks in the mind. He had a plain black cap on, so couldn’t really see any hair. He was white I think, or if not very light-skinned. Don’t know about height or build. He looked kind of normal. Probably about the same as me I suppose.”
The younger officer was writing in his notebook, and as he did the older officer spoke for the first time.
“Would you be willing to make a formal statement to that effect?”
“Yeah.”
“Could you come back to the station with us now?”
“Not really, I’m starting work soon, how about tomorrow?”
The older officer’s eyes narrowed a bit at this, but the younger one had finished scribbling and took over again.
“Yes sir that would be fine. Just make your way up to the main station on Northampton Street, and someone will take your formal statement. Can we take your name and address please?”
“Billy Maguire, 37a Kenyon Lane.”
They didn’t even check the address. They thanked me and made their way into the pub. Good luck getting any information in there. They left a few minutes later and carried on up the road. I finished my drink, left the pub and headed round the back of the shops.
I let myself into the back yard of the abandoned butcher’s. It’d been empty for years, but the council bins were still there. I opened the nearest one and pulled out the bags I’d put there earlier. Two big holdalls full of bottles of spirits, cigarettes, scratch cards and cash.
I looked at the carrier bag with my orange tracksuit in it. I couldn’t wear that again. I tipped some brandy on it and lit it up. It’d burn in the metal bin. I heaved the bags over my shoulders and headed off.
I’d need to find a new pub to watch the world go by from. Poor old Billy would get a shock when the police chased up the statement, though not as much as one as the police would get. Or even as much as the one the insolent sod from the offie got. I’d told him he shouldn’t mess with me.