‘And why would I do that?’
‘The desk sergeant might just want to charge you with breach of the peace.’
‘Whose fucking peace?’
‘The peace of every neighbour who called to complain about the noise you’ve been making.’
Tiny said, ‘And then there’s the question of assault.’ He reached for Jardine’s wrist, but wasn’t expecting the reaction he got.
Jardine pulled away abruptly, fuelled by that potent mix of alcohol and the anger that burns in all bullies. ‘I’ll give you fucking assault,’ he shouted. And his clenched fist came swinging into the room. A punch that connected with nothing but fresh air as Tiny took a step back and Jardine lost his balance.
I moved in fast, catching his forearm and swinging him round to bang face-first into the wall. Tiny had the cuffs on him before he could move. ‘Add resisting arrest to that count,’ I breathed into his ear.
Tiny took him down to the car then, and I stayed with the girl to see if she needed medical attention.
‘I’m alright,’ she insisted. But I made her sit where she was and went through to the kitchen to boil a kettle, then wadded up some kitchen roll to clean the blood from a cut in her hairline and the split on her lip. She pulled away from the sting of it, and I looked at the bruising coming up on her face. I could see that there was old yellow bruising beneath the fresh stuff, and more on her forearms, where maybe she had raised them to protect herself.
‘You should put witch hazel on that bruising,’ I said. I remembered that my mum had always kept some in the house for when I had a tumble from my bike or got into a fight at school.
Unexpectedly, she laughed, and her face shone as if someone had turned on a light. ‘Don’t know any witches,’ she said. ‘And for sure not any called Hazel.’
‘I’ll need to introduce you to her, then. She can magic those bruises away.’ She smiled and I said, ‘What are you doing with him, darling?’ And the light went out. Tears filled those dark eyes and she shook her head.
‘None of your business.’
And maybe it wasn’t. We sat for a moment before I said, ‘What’s your name?’
In a tiny voice she said, ‘Mel.’ And then smiled again through her tears. ‘My mum was a big Spice Girls fan.’
Of course I’d heard of the Spice Girls, but they’d gone their separate ways before I even started primary school, so the reference was kind of lost on me at the time.
She saw my confusion and grinned. ‘Two of them were called Mel. Well, Melanie, I suppose. But I was just Mel. That’s what’s on my birth certificate. Just plain old Mel.’
It’s hard to describe why, but something in the childlike innocence of this touched me. It was a quality she had that she never lost, and that never failed to affect me. I would learn in time that she was also smart, and perceptive. But it was that intractable innocence that led to her downfall.
It was still raining when I got to the car. I don’t know why, but I had kind of worked myself up into a lather going back down all those stairs. The only thing I could picture was that pale bruised face, and the innocence of her smile. And the drunken fist that Jardine had thrown at Tiny. The thought of it connecting with Mel. I knew that whatever happened to him tonight, he would take it out on her when he got home, and I wanted him to know I wasn’t about to let that happen.
Tiny was sitting at the wheel with the window down. ‘She alright, mate?’ he said. But I just walked past and opened the rear door. Jardine wasn’t expecting it, so it was easy enough to pull him out on to the forecourt. He fell to his knees before scrambling unsteadily to his feet. I heard Tiny’s voice from somewhere behind me. ‘What the fuck?’
I grabbed Jardine’s jacket and pushed him up against the car, thrusting my face in his. ‘Lay a finger on that lassie again, Jardine, and I’ll fucking have you.’
‘You and whose fucking army?’ he roared. And I was totally unprepared for the headbutt. A Glasgow kiss delivered properly will break your nose, but all that Jardine managed was a clash of foreheads that stunned him and infuriated me.
I piled in with knees and fists, catching him in the crotch and pummelling his ribs until his legs gave way. A final fist caught him full in the face, jerking his head to the side before he vomited on the tarmac.
Tiny was pulling me away, his voice hissing in the dark, ‘Jesus Christ, man! Stop!
I turned towards him. ‘He headbutted me. You saw that, didn’t you?’
His face was dark with anger. ‘Fuck’s sake, Cammie! Get in the fucking car.’ And he dragged Jardine to his feet and bundled him in the back.
London Road police station comprised a long, three-storey brick building that stood in an industrial desert in the east end of Glasgow, a spit away from Celtic Park football ground. The compound at the back of it housed umpteen overspill Portakabins that had become permanent fixtures. It was a depressing place at the best of times.
The sergeant behind the charge bar cast a dubious eye over the sorry figure we presented to him at a little after one o’clock that morning. From the driving licence in Jardine’s wallet, we had gleaned that his full name was Lee Alexander Jardine, and that he was thirty-one years of age.
The blood from his nose had dried on his face, with one eye bruised and puffed up till it was almost closed. I figured there was probably a loose tooth or two, but that wasn’t obvious at a glance. His wrists were still cuffed behind him, and he stood half-hunched, his jacket stained with his own vomit, the stink of alcohol hanging about him in a cloud.
The sergeant swivelled his eyes in my direction and took in the swelling on my forehead. ‘Breach of the peace,’ I said, ‘resisting arrest, assault of an officer.’ The sergeant’s gaze flickered towards Tiny, who shuffled uncomfortably and nodded.
The sergeant’s gaze returned to me. Then back to Jardine. ‘Resistance like that would do credit to the French Maquis.’ Eyes to me again. ‘You know who that is, Brodie?’
‘No, sergeant.’
‘Nah, I thought not. He’s one helluva fucking mess, is all I can say. Used minimal force to restrain him, did you?’
‘Yes, sergeant.’
He sighed. ‘You know I’m going to have to get the doctor in.’
I returned his sigh and nodded. Medical examinations of injured suspects rarely ended well for the arresting officers.
I got home just before two that morning. Went straight to the cabinet in the bathroom. I was sure I’d brought a bottle of witch hazel from my folks’ place when I cleared it out after Dad died. And there it was, behind a bottle of mouthwash and a bunch of prescription painkillers Tiny had taken once for a twisted ankle. I showered and changed and went straight back out. Didn’t take long to get over to the east side at that time of the morning.
I was getting a bit fed up by now with the fifteen flights. I was tired after a long shift, and should just have crashed when I got home. But I needed to see her again when I was sure Jardine wouldn’t be there. Breathless, I knocked softly at the door. Didn’t want to go waking up all the neighbours again. When she didn’t respond, I tried the bell and stood waiting in the hall. Not sure why I was so tense, but I was all bunched up inside. Nervous, I guess.
And then the door opened, just a crack, and I saw the curtain of hair hanging down over her face in the dark. I could almost feel her relief as the door opened wider and she stood staring at me with startled rabbit eyes.
‘I thought you were him,’ she said in a voice so small I could barely hear it.
‘He’s being detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure,’ I told her.
‘What do you want?’
I fished the bottle of clear liquid out of my jacket pocket and held it up. ‘I promised to introduce you to Hazel. She’s a good pal.’