Free Zorilla At Large! by William Stafford Page B

upright. Crouched beside him, Pattimore giggled.
    â€œPiss off, kid,” Stevens scowled at the child in a tracksuit. The boy had sports logos shaved into his hair although he was built like he’d only ever win a trophy as Chip Shop’s Best Customer.
    â€œAm you pervs or coppers?”
    â€œWhat’s it to you, lard arse?”
    â€œOnly cause if you’m pervs, I’m calling the coppers, and if you’m coppers, I want to talk to you.”
    â€œAll right?” Pattimore emerged from the foliage. He flashed his i.d. “Is there a problem?”
    â€œGet a lot of perverts in this park, do you, chubster?” Stevens stepped out onto the path. “Wouldn’t think they’d give you much trouble.”
    The boy looked affronted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œWell... look at you...”
    The boy stuck his nose in the air with haughty indignation. “There’s more of me to love.”
    Stevens laughed. “I suppose a bunch of pervs could go shares, like. Bargain bucket kind of deal.”
    â€œLanky twat,” the boy diagnosed.
    â€œHow can we help?” Pattimore intervened. “Why do you need to talk to the police?”
    â€œLook; I found it.”
    Chipolata fingers unzipped the tracksuit top. The boy pulled out a mass of fur and claws but he seemed oblivious of the animal’s struggles.
    â€œThe fuck is that?” said Stevens, backing away.
    â€œIt’s that whatsit,” said the boy, “What run off from the zoo.”
    Pattimore laughed. “Mate, that’s just a black cat somebody’s been at with a bottle of Tipp-Ex.”
    â€œIt bloody isn’t!” the boy asserted.
    â€œIt bloody is,” said Stevens. “Go on; fuck off.”
    The boy stood his ground. “I want my reward!”
    Both detectives laughed.
    â€œYou’ll have to source your fucking pie vouchers elsewhere,” said Stevens. “Go on; piss off and take your painted pussy with you.”
    â€œFascists.”
    â€œWait,” said Pattimore. “Give it here.”
    The boy was reluctant to surrender the creature without financial recompense. Perhaps other coppers would be less discerning.
    â€œAll right,” Pattimore continued, “I’m arresting you for cruelty to an animal.”
    The boy let out a yelp. “You cor do that! I’ve took good care of it. Even give it half of my saveloy.” He pressed the squirming feline close against his chest.
    Pattimore softened his approach. “Think about it. Cats lick themselves clean. How’s he going to feel if he licks that shit off? It’d be like you fed him poison.”
    The boy’s brow wrinkled in thought, giving him the appearance of a constipated cherub. He stroked the cat’s back and grimaced at the stickiness that transferred to his palm. With a sigh of resignation, he handed over the animal.
    â€œNow piss off,” said Stevens.
    The boy scarpered.
    â€œFucking chavs,” Stevens watched him go. “Always up to something.”
    â€œOh, I don’t know,” said Pattimore. The cat seemed calmer, cradled in the detective constable’s arms. It let out a purr. “The kid has given me an idea.”
    â€œMe and all. What time’s the chippy open?”
    â€œNot that. Do you remember those cartoons? They don’t show them anymore but there was this cat and every time she’d get paint on her somehow, in a big stripe all along her back. Next thing she knows she’s being sexually harassed by a skunk with a French accent, who thinks she’s a lady skunk. She can’t get rid of him.”
    Stevens blinked. “So, your idea is we watch cartoons?”
    â€œNo! I think we need a decoy or something. We need something to lure the zorilla out where we can nab him.”
    â€œI’m not dressing up as a lady skunk!”
    â€œLet’s hope it won’t come to that. But think