Free Road Closed by Leigh Russell Page B

take him seriously. He could stop calling him ‘retard’ as well. Retard Ray never remonstrated at the nickname, but it rankled. Cal showed him no respect.
    No one had ever taken Ray seriously. He had always been an also ran. Even as a kid, he had been a hanger on, drifting about on the fringes of other kids’ gangs. Finally he had ended up in Stan’s outfit. Stan’s boys spent their time on the streets, mugging kids and turning over small time corner shops.
    ‘That’s peanuts, that is,’ Cal had sneered when Ray had boasted he was a member of Stan’s gang. ‘Nicking pennies from the sweet shop. Don’t know why you bother. I wouldn’t waste my time on a loser like Stan.’
    ‘I’m in a gang,’ Ray protested. That counted for something.
    ‘That’s your first mistake,’ Cal replied. He launched into a rant against gangs in general, and losers like Stan in particular. ‘Calls himself a gang leader, huh. He couldn’t lead a bunch of geese. Listen.’ He leaned across the table and pushed his empty glass towards Ray. ‘No point working in a gang. That way, you’ve got to share it all out, see? You stick with me. I’ll see you all right. And there’ll be just the two of us to share out the dosh.’ Ray was listening so intently, he picked up Cal’s glass without realising it. ‘Mine’s a pint,’ Cal said. Ray nodded. Somehow, Cal was always telling him what to do. Ray couldn’t seem to refuse him anything.
    Working with Cal was a step up from being in Stan’s gang. Everyone knew not to mess with Cal. Ray was a nobody, but he was learning fast. Once he started to organise his own jobs, everything would change. He would still work with Cal, from time to time, but as an equal. Because he wouldn’t need Cal any more. He would be number one with his own second-in-command, some young lad grateful to learn the ropes from him.
    The bus came. Ray hopped on board, humming. He wasn’t going to say anything to Cal about his plans. He wouldn’t let on until afterwards. He imagined Cal’s face when he came home one night with his haul.
    ‘Where have you been?’ Cal would ask, suspicious.
    ‘Just done a little job.’ Ray would casually empty his pockets on to the table, gems and gold jingling and sparkling. ‘Here you go, Cal. Take that to make up for the job we bungled the other night, the one where we left the loot behind because you panicked. Here, take this.’ He pictured himself handing a diamond encrusted watch to Cal. His eyes would light up with excitement while Ray watched, cool yet sharp.
    ‘You’re a genius,’ Cal would say. ‘This little beauty must be worth at least…’
     
    ‘A quid,’ the bus driver’s voice cut into Ray’s daydream. Ray sighed and handed over his fare.

15
    Hangover
    Geraldine woke late on Sunday with a pounding headache. She felt as though she was starting a cold. Her throat felt tight and her eyes were watery.
    ‘Serves you right,’ she muttered at her pasty reflection. Not yet forty, and successful in her career, she had been drinking alone at night. She resolved to take herself in hand. But first she had to hurry or she would be late for work. She left as soon as she had dressed, intending to grab a quick breakfast at the station canteen, but was held up by roadworks. She strode into the police station, ignoring her headache with a determined smile.
    The desk sergeant returned her grin. ‘Someone got lucky last night,’ he said and her spirits dropped. Lucky with a bottle of cheap red wine. She was too late to run to the canteen for a hurried breakfast. The briefing was about to begin.
    ‘You all right, gov?’ Peterson muttered under his breath as she stood beside him. ‘You look…’ He stared at her eyes with genuine concern.
    ‘Hung over?’ she whispered. Peterson was about to reply when Kathryn Gordon marched in. The DCI glanced round the assembled officers. Then she turned to the Incident Board. A picture of an old woman had been added, linked to