Mr. Dixon disappears: a mobile library mystery by Ian Sansom Page B

would fail to return, due to the seriousness of the offence.'
    'My client,' said Hussain, 'has a job. He has ties to the community.'
    Israel snorted. Ties to the community! He didn't have ties to this community. Shackles, maybe. But ties? Nothing apart from the bloody library. He had nothing in common with these people. He certainly didn't share a common past with them, nor did he want to. He didn't share their feelings, or their language, apparently, or common assumptions, and he definitely did not share their so-called sense of humour. Ties to the community! For goodness sake.
    Hussain continued. 'He has a home.'
    Israel snorted again. A home! A chicken coop! That's where he'd bloody ended up here. A chicken coop.
    'He is of previous good character.'
    Hussain had never met Israel before.
    'Also, you have his passport.'
    What? Israel didn't know they had his passport. How the hell did they get hold of his passport?
    The man behind the desk wrote all this down.
    'It is my belief that Mr Armstrong could be a danger to the public,' said the plain-clothes policeman. 'He could commit further offences.'
    'My client is prepared to reside at his home, to sign in weekly at the station and to keep a curfew.'
    There was a huddle then, and hushed talking between the plain-clothes policeman and the desk policeman, and the next thing Israel knew he was signing forms in triplicate. He glanced at the words. It was an offence, apparently, for him to fail to appear back at the police station in one week. It was an offence for which he could be fined or imprisoned or both.
    Then suddenly he was in another room being kitted out in someone else's old clothes and being escorted out past the front counter with Hussain.
    'Well, we've got a week,' said Hussain, walking with him down a long grey corridor.
    'For what?' said Israel.
    'For us to sort all this out,' said Hussain.
    'It's not very long,' said Israel.
    'Well, how long do you need?'
    'I don't know.'
    'Well, you've got a week. They'll be doing stuff at the forensic science lab. And the DNA database in Birmingham.' Hussain looked at Israel suspiciously. 'They'll also need to prove intent.'
    'I didn't have anything to do with it.'
    'Fine,' said Hussain. 'You'll be OK then. Here's my card. You understand the bail conditions?'
    Israel nodded.
    'OK. Well, let's talk tonight. I'll ring you. You can let me know what our next move is.'
    Hussain's words rattled in his ear. His next move? His next move?
    Israel didn't have a next move.
    He had a terrible headache.

6
    Ted had been waiting for Israel in the police station. He was working his way through a giant book of Sudoku puzzles.
    'Blinking things,' he said, as Israel shuffled towards him in his borrowed clothes.
    'Oh, Ted! God, am I glad to see you.'
    'Aye. Well, fancied I'd run into ye–you look like somethin' shot at an' missed, mind.'
    'What?'
    'And fancy dress, was it?' asked Ted: Israel was dressed in a three-piece pin-striped suit, with a pair of size 11 shoes.
    'No.'
    'You swap with Coco the Clown?'
    Israel was too tired for repartee.
    'Aye, well,' continued Ted, 'you look smarter than usual.'
    'Thanks.'
    'Not that it'd be difficult. Come on, let's get out of here.'
    Ted strode quickly towards the doors, Israel following.
    'They treat you right?' asked Ted, as they hurried down the ramp.
    'God, Ted. No,' said Israel. 'It was awful. It was—' Israel broke off. He found his hands were shaking.
    'Aye, all right, son.'
    They made it across the yard to Ted's cab.
    'D'you get Billy?'
    'What?'
    'Your brief? My cousin, Billy Biggs, he saw you right?'
    'No, no. I got some young bloke called…Hussain.'
    'Indian fella?'
    'I don't know. No. He was from here, I think.'
    'He's Indian-looking, but?'
    'Well, yes, him.'
    'Aye. He's from Belfast. Top of his year at Queen's apparently. Billy swears by him. So?'
    'Ted.' Israel stopped walking. 'I think they're trying to frame me.'
    'Frame ye?'
    'Yes! They're saying I carried out the robbery and the