effects of a two-litre bottle of cheap cider a day on her psyche.
‘And what the fuck are you keeping me here for?’
she asked before he could answer. Her voice sounded as if she had been gargling with gravel.
‘Well, you might be able to help us, Sheena,’ he explained, sitting down. ‘Which’d be a first.’
‘It’ll cost you a fucking cigarette,’ she said.
‘That’s a price I’m willing to pay.’ He turned to Drinkwater and motioned for him to purloin a few fags from someone who smoked.
‘So, how can I help, Officer?’ The last word was hopelessly mangled.
‘You’ll have noticed that your bedroom is closed to the public. That’s because we found the body of a man there earlier today. In exactly the same spot where you usually class down. He’d been murdered.’
‘Nothing to do with me,’ she said instantly.
‘Didn’t say it was, did I, Sheena? Does anyone else class down there?’
She shook her head vigorously. ‘Wouldn’t fucking dare,’ she said. ‘It’s my pitch. The only other people who go in there are a couple of kids. Smoke dope in the middle of the night.’ She smiled, a train wreck of a smile - all mangled, with yellow teeth or blackened stumps. ‘And the little bastards never give me any.’
There was a wheezing, rattling sound that seemed to emanate from the ground. It was Ciderwoman laughing. It culminated in a coughing fit, which ended with her spitting violently into her hand just as Drink water walked in with a couple of John Players. Once she had wiped her mouth, Ciderwoman tugged both from his hand and lit one. She inhaled mightily, like a diver about to go under.
‘Yes,’ Foster said, once the charade was over. ‘They found the body. The question is, Sheena: where were you? I’ve been led to believe you sleep there every night. Why not Tuesday night? Or last night, even?’
In three large drags she had smoked almost half the cigarette. She blew the smoke upwards. ‘Because I was told not to,’ she said.
Foster leaned forwards. ‘By who?’
‘A man.’
‘Which man?’
‘How the fuck should I know? Some gadgey like
you.’
‘What do you mean? Did he look like me?’
She shrugged. ‘Can’t remember,’ she said, taking another drag.
‘What did this guy say?’
She paused to think. ‘He said there was going to be some sort of clean-up. That they were gonna come down like a sack of shit on all the people sleeping rough, so I’d better clear off for a couple of days.’
‘And you believed him?’
‘Why the fuck not?’ she said, looking indignant.
‘He said he worked for Shelter, or something like that, and he didn’t want to see me banged up.’
‘Did he show you a card?’
She shook her head. Before she extinguished her cigarette, she put the second one in her mouth and lit it with the stub of the first.
‘When was this?’
‘I’ve only been away for two nights, so it was …’
‘Tuesday,’ Foster said, helping her out.
‘If you say so.’
‘Listen, Sheena, we think the guy who spoke to
you might have been linked to this murder. Can you remember anything about him?’
She puffed silently on her cigarette. ‘It was early afternoon,’ she said. ‘I’m never at my best then. He wasn’t wearing a suit, because I would’ve thought he was the Old Bill and told him to fuck off. No disrespect.’
Foster made a gesture with his hands to indicate none was taken.
‘He was dressed sort of casual,’ she added.
‘Any distinguishing features?’
She thought some more. ‘He didn’t smoke,’ she
added hopefully. ‘I think I asked him for a ciggie and he said he didn’t smoke.’
That narrows it down, Foster thought.
‘He gave me a quid, too. Or, at least, I think he did.’
‘Really,’ Foster said eagerly. ‘Do you still have it?’
‘What the fuck do you think?’ she said. ‘I don’t have much in the way of savings.’
He knew there was nothing more to be garnered
from the conversation. ‘My
‘And what the fuck are you keeping me here for?’
she asked before he could answer. Her voice sounded as if she had been gargling with gravel.
‘Well, you might be able to help us, Sheena,’ he explained, sitting down. ‘Which’d be a first.’
‘It’ll cost you a fucking cigarette,’ she said.
‘That’s a price I’m willing to pay.’ He turned to Drinkwater and motioned for him to purloin a few fags from someone who smoked.
‘So, how can I help, Officer?’ The last word was hopelessly mangled.
‘You’ll have noticed that your bedroom is closed to the public. That’s because we found the body of a man there earlier today. In exactly the same spot where you usually class down. He’d been murdered.’
‘Nothing to do with me,’ she said instantly.
‘Didn’t say it was, did I, Sheena? Does anyone else class down there?’
She shook her head vigorously. ‘Wouldn’t fucking dare,’ she said. ‘It’s my pitch. The only other people who go in there are a couple of kids. Smoke dope in the middle of the night.’ She smiled, a train wreck of a smile - all mangled, with yellow teeth or blackened stumps. ‘And the little bastards never give me any.’
There was a wheezing, rattling sound that seemed to emanate from the ground. It was Ciderwoman laughing. It culminated in a coughing fit, which ended with her spitting violently into her hand just as Drink water walked in with a couple of John Players. Once she had wiped her mouth, Ciderwoman tugged both from his hand and lit one. She inhaled mightily, like a diver about to go under.
‘Yes,’ Foster said, once the charade was over. ‘They found the body. The question is, Sheena: where were you? I’ve been led to believe you sleep there every night. Why not Tuesday night? Or last night, even?’
In three large drags she had smoked almost half the cigarette. She blew the smoke upwards. ‘Because I was told not to,’ she said.
Foster leaned forwards. ‘By who?’
‘A man.’
‘Which man?’
‘How the fuck should I know? Some gadgey like
you.’
‘What do you mean? Did he look like me?’
She shrugged. ‘Can’t remember,’ she said, taking another drag.
‘What did this guy say?’
She paused to think. ‘He said there was going to be some sort of clean-up. That they were gonna come down like a sack of shit on all the people sleeping rough, so I’d better clear off for a couple of days.’
‘And you believed him?’
‘Why the fuck not?’ she said, looking indignant.
‘He said he worked for Shelter, or something like that, and he didn’t want to see me banged up.’
‘Did he show you a card?’
She shook her head. Before she extinguished her cigarette, she put the second one in her mouth and lit it with the stub of the first.
‘When was this?’
‘I’ve only been away for two nights, so it was …’
‘Tuesday,’ Foster said, helping her out.
‘If you say so.’
‘Listen, Sheena, we think the guy who spoke to
you might have been linked to this murder. Can you remember anything about him?’
She puffed silently on her cigarette. ‘It was early afternoon,’ she said. ‘I’m never at my best then. He wasn’t wearing a suit, because I would’ve thought he was the Old Bill and told him to fuck off. No disrespect.’
Foster made a gesture with his hands to indicate none was taken.
‘He was dressed sort of casual,’ she added.
‘Any distinguishing features?’
She thought some more. ‘He didn’t smoke,’ she
added hopefully. ‘I think I asked him for a ciggie and he said he didn’t smoke.’
That narrows it down, Foster thought.
‘He gave me a quid, too. Or, at least, I think he did.’
‘Really,’ Foster said eagerly. ‘Do you still have it?’
‘What the fuck do you think?’ she said. ‘I don’t have much in the way of savings.’
He knew there was nothing more to be garnered
from the conversation. ‘My
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