Vixen (Inspector Brant) Read Online Free PDF

to count. Brant waited till the guy was halfway then touched his arm, asked:
    ‘Get you something?’
    The guy was spluttering with rage, said:
    ‘You made me lose my place, I’ll have to start over.’
    Roberts said nothing. The guy began again, this time, trying to keep an eye on Brant. Finally it was over and he handed a chit for Roberts to sign. When this was done, Brant asked:
    ‘You want to go get a beer or something?’
    The guy looked like he wanted to scream but in a patient voice he said:
    ‘I don’t think so.’
    Brant turned to go, said:
    ‘Fine, but I thought if you’d a few drinks you wouldn’t take it so hard.’
    ‘What are you talking about?’
    Brant indicated a pile of money that was still on the table, said:
    ‘You missed that lot or does it matter?’
    It mattered.

I was for the first and probably last time in my life
propositioned by a man.
‘Come and have a drink,’ he said.
‘Where do you suggest?’ I asked.
‘There’s a YMCA round the corner, and afterwards we
could go to my place.’
I began walking away fast. He ran after me.
‘What’s the matter?’ he said. ‘Aren’t you interested in
queerness?’
Edward Behr,
Anyone Here Been Raped and Speaks
English?

11
    ANGIE WAS IN the other room planning her great caper and Ray Cross was watching the Australian prison drama,
Oz.
He really enjoyed the brutality of the series. He’d done four years for a building society heist and his brother Jimmy had done two. He never intended returning to prison and he watched every jail drama to reinforce his conviction. He even watched
Bad Girls
and, of course, there was always the hope of a little lezzie action in that. The one sure thing you could say about Ray was he always had a drink on the go. This occasion it was Schnapps; Jimmy had boosted a Safeway and piled a lorry with every type of booze under the supermarket sun. The German spirit was going down easy and he had a nice buzz building. He stood up, stretched. Tall, he’d been told many times of his resemblance to the actor James Woods, and itmade him feel good. JW was your stone psycho. Ray had
Salvador
on vid. But his all-time favourite was
The Onion Field
, where Woods played the cop-killer who, in the nick, manipulated all around him. It was the sense of total danger that Woods emanated. Ray worked on his mannerisms and pretended to be surprised when people remarked on them.
    He was wearing a T-shirt with the logo:
    Pog Mo Thoin
    It had been given to him by a crazy Irish girl he’d been seeing. He had to let her go when she set fire to their gaff for the second time. It meant giving her a few slaps but his heart hadn’t been in it. Ray felt that as Jimmy Woods had been through the mill with Sean Young, he too had to earn his spurs with crazies. In south-east London, they were easy to find. It was months later that he discovered the logo meant ‘kiss my ass’. And he’d worn it ever since. Angie had tried to smarten him up, bought a stack of Ralph Lauren shirts, which he put in the Oxfam bin. The one time he’d worn them, Jimmy had said:
    ‘You look like a pooftah.’
    Gave Jimmy a hard slap to the side of the head. He’d been looking out for his brother all his life. Jimmy was a bit slow; he didn’t seem to be on the same wavelength as the rest of the world and responded with a simplicity to most things. Then, in prison, he became obsessed with weights and bodybuilding and with the increased muscles he developed a sly confidence. It came from knowing that people were afraid of him. Ray was the first to exploit thisnew development and used him as an enforcer. Jimmy was impervious to pain and, short of shooting the fucker, he wouldn’t go down. After Ray’s release they’d gotten the Mews place and begun a spree of petty larceny and mild intimidation. They hadn’t any huge ambition and, so long as they had beer money and some dope, they were reasonably content with their lot.
    All that had changed the night they went to the