The Cutting Room Read Online Free PDF Page B

nobody
    spoke. I took out my tobacco and rolled myself a smoke. No
    one stopped me. We hadn’t reached the camaraderie of the
    jail-house yet and I didn’t offer them around. I was thinking about what I had on me. Rule number one of cruising:
    remember the dangers. You may be mugged or arrested. Do
    not carry anything that may incriminate you or get you into
    more trouble. In my pocket was a wrap of speed, a quarter of grass so good it might be class A, a packet of extra-thick
    condoms and a selection of pornographic photographs I hadn’t fully perused.
    At Partick police station I made myself last in line. I hadn’t seen a mirror but I guessed I didn’t cut quite such a dashing figure now. The rain had soaked through my raincoat, into my suit, and through my shirt. My hair hung long and lank against my face. My only hope was that I looked so bad they wouldn’t bother to search me. Looking at the going-over they were
    giving the unsavoury collection in front of me I knew there
    was no hope. I did the only thing you can do in circumstances
    like these. I kept my head down and waited for something to turn up.
    I’m not new to the routine. Name, address, date of birth.
    The things they always want to know. Then,
    `Empty your pockets.’
    One thing after the other; wallet, penknife, notebook;
    pushing the wrap and the deal into a hole in the lining of my suit jacket; my keys, the McKindless keys, loose change.
    `Speed it up or I’ll do it for you.’ The netsuke. `C’mon, get on with it.’ I reached for the envelope of photographs. The
    ones I’d seen were this side of legal, and they might keep the sergeant’s attention long enough for me to get away with the drugs. If they took a notion to search my flat I was in trouble.
    `We don’t have all night.’ I smiled, pulled the envelope from my pocket, then beside me a slim, dark man in a blue suit.
    `Been misbehaving, Rilke? All right, Sergeant, Mr Rilke’s
    just coming into my office for a little chat.’ I shoved the
    envelope back in my jacket before it could be taken from me.
    `You keep his things safe for him. Except this, let’s have a closer look at this.’
    He picked up the netsuke and walked on with me, meek as
    a rescued felon, behind him. My companions followed us with
    their eyes, cursing me for a grass.
    `In here.’ We entered an office at the end of the hall and I tried to gather myself together. `Sit.’ He indicated a hard
    chair opposite his desk. `And will you take that bloody
    raincoat off - you’re dripping all over the place.’ I peeled it from me and bundled it under the chair. `So, Rilke. Can you not learn some discretion? Are there not clubs you can go to if you want to do that kind of thing? Would it not be pleasanter for you? A wee gin and tonic, a trot around the dance floor
    then back to a bachelor pad for whatever it is you want to do.
     
    Are you not getting a bit old for skulking about in bushes?’
    `I’m not much of a dancer, Inspector Anderson.’
    `Always quick with the answers, though. You were the
    same at school. Look at you. What a bloody state to get
    yourself into.’ He picked up the phone, `Two cups of tea
    through here quick as you can.’ Turning back to me, `I
    probably should have just let them search you there. Aye, you always had interesting things in your pockets, Rilke.’
     
    `The guy I met in the park certainly thought so.’
    `It would maybe be as well to remember that I’m the law.
    I’ve rescued you from an embarrassment. Why not? We go
    back a long way. But don’t take the piss.’ He picked up the
    netsuke and turned it over in his hand. `This is a horrible wee relic. I tell you, if this isn’t against the law it should be.’ A uniform came in with the tea, thick porcelain mug for
    Anderson, polystyrene cup for me. `Now tell me about this
    thing.’
    He placed it on the desk between us with a quick squint of
    distaste at the grinning murderer.
     
    `It’s a netsuke. Japanese, probably