‘Is that your car outside?’
‘What? Oh yes, it is.’
‘In about two minutes I’m going to have it towed; it matches the description of a car wanted in connection with a string of robberies. You should have it back in… oh, let’s say three weeks. I obviously can’t guarantee its condition but I’ll ask them to be careful, you being a law-abiding citizen and all.’
He stared at her, rage creasing his brow. Then he put the notebook away and he turned on his heel, walked out. Andrews asked:
‘Which car is his?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
Andrews felt she’d learned a valuable lesson in dealing with the public.
When they went to the counter, the owner said:
‘No charge, ladies, I’m honoured by your custom.’
Falls wasn’t pleased, near shouted:
‘Did we ask you for anything free?’
‘No, but…’
‘But you presumed we’d be bought for a lousy stale bun.’
She threw a pile of change on the counter and headed out. Andrews felt sorry for him, tried to give him a warm smile, it didn’t seem to do much good. Outside, Falls was waiting and Andrews said:
‘Wasn’t that a bit harsh?’
‘If you’re going to have a freebie, at least make it worthwhile; for a spoon of cream, you could lose your job. And, that guy would be on the phone every opportunity, asking for his favourite officers.’
‘Maybe he just meant well.’
‘He’s the public — they never mean well.’
‘I had intended him to kill somebody… spend the rest of the story making him human… I was twenty or thirty pages in before I realised he was black. Not only black, he’s a black man who had tried, albeit inchoately, to turn himself into a white man, to live up to white values, at various times in his life, and they always collapse on him.’