Free Skeleton Hill by Peter Lovesey

already some way off.
    She asked the trader nearest to her to take over. ‘He’s not getting away with it. I’m going after him.’
    ‘Leave it, dear,’ the neighbour said. She was a peace-loving woman with a long chiffon scarf. She sold copper bracelets and good luck charms. ‘He won’t have any money on him. I’ve seen him nick stuff before. He’s simple.’
    The pie woman wasn’t to be dissuaded. Snatching up the pie, she set off through the crowd and caught up with the man near a display of model cars. ‘This is your pie, mister. You owe me one pound fifty.’
    He shook his head.
    ‘Here, take it,’ she said, thrusting it at him ‘Enjoy it. I can say it myself, because I made it, it’s a good pie. It’s no use to me or anyone else now you’ve bitten a chunk out of it. Just pay for it and that’s the end of the matter.’
    ‘Madam, I can’t,’ he said in a refined tone. ‘I have no money on me.’
    ‘That’s great. What are you doing here anyway, if you’ve got no money? This is a sale, not a fucking free-for-all.’ Her shouting was starting to get attention from the crowd and she felt compelled to take action rather than lose face. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Citizen’s arrest. I’m nicking you for theft. Anything you say will be used in evidence against you. Someone call the police. Who’s got a phone?’
    The man under arrest shook his head. ‘Not me.’
    ‘I wasn’t asking you.’
    ‘I beg your pardon.’ He was co-operative, if nothing else. He looked bewildered.
    Uncertain what to do next, the pie woman grasped the man’s arm and led him back towards her van. He came like a lamb.
    It was the copper bracelet seller who reluctantly called the police on her mobile. ‘It’s not my name you want,’ she said into the phone. ‘It’s the lady who made the arrest. What’s your name, love?’
    Before the pie woman could answer, the arrested man said, ‘Noddy.’
    ‘God help us!’ the copper bracelet seller said, and giggled. Somehow, she got control of herself and gave the essential facts and ended the call. ‘They said to keep him here if possible and they’ll send someone.’
    The result of all this was self-defeating. No trade was done in the next half hour. The man calling himself Noddy had his own aroma competing with the appetising smell of the pies.
    When two police officers eventually made their way through the crowd, the pie seller explained what had happened. As proof, she showed them the pie with the bite out of it.
    ‘And you arrested him?’ PC Andy Sullivan said.
    ‘Citizen’s arrest,’ the woman said. ‘It’s common law.’
    ‘I know that, ma’am. Do you want to press charges?’
    ‘I want to be paid for my pie, that’s all.’
    It’s the job of uniformed police to defuse a situation whenever possible. Andy Sullivan spoke to the prisoner. ‘Why don’t you give the lady the money and settle the matter?’
    ‘Because I haven’t got any money, officer.’ Shabby and strong-smelling he may have been, but the man was polite, well-spoken and logical. Not the usual troublemaker.
    ‘What’s your name?’
    ‘Noddy.’
    Sullivan revised his opinion.
    A stifled sound of mirth came from behind the copper bracelet table.
    While this was going on, Sullivan’s partner, PC Denise Beal, wished she was a million miles away. Her stomach was churning. She could see her short career in the police coming to a quick end if Noddy recognised her. She was trying to avoid eye contact. Sullivan moved his face closer to the prisoner’s. ‘If you mess with me, my friend, you’ll regret it. Now tell me your name.’
    ‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because I’ll regret it.’
    ‘Don’t get smart with me. Who are you?’
    ‘That’s what I’m called. Noddy.’
    ‘He’s not right in the head,’ the copper bracelet woman said. ‘I’ve been trying to tell her.’
    ‘Hold on,’ the pie woman said. ‘I’m the victim in all this, not him.