the near accident. the interview.
Senior Constable Jack Winters walked into the station at four-o-clock to start his shift. His wife had been happy to see him leave their small unit in Balmain and the brown-bagged sandwiches that she had hurled at him from their sixth floor balcony did not appear to have survived the journey at all well. She could never understand or accept being his second wife, the Job being his first.
The middle-aged couple waiting for him in the station reception lobby received little reward for their smiles as he strode past and bullocked his large body through the swing doors that separated the lobby from the working area of the Police station.
A moment later his head re-appeared around the door.
‘ Youse here to make a statement? ’ he asked gruffly.
Scoresby nodded affirmatively.
‘ Be with yez inaminute. ‘ – And he was gone.
Sometime later the female receptionist asked that they follow her through to the offices where they found Winters and three other Police officers sitting on their desks drinking coffee. The room was large and well illuminated. Computer monitors and files covered most of the level surfaces. Desks were haphazardly placed and untidily kept. Most of the chairs were careworn and unmatched. All the windows were closed.
Winters eased himself off a desk and motioned that Scoresby and his wife pull a couple of chairs over. This they did and then they then sat and watched him boot up his computer in preparedness for his taking of Scoresby’s statement. The statement concerned a minor traffic matter that had occurred a month earlier and Winters was well acquainted with the facts, having attended at the time.
‘ You right? ‘
‘ Whenever you’re ready. ‘ Replied Scoresby.
‘ Ok, lemme first askya a few questions. Right? ‘
‘ Why’d a bloke want to punch a car for fucksake. Pardon me French Missus. ‘
Scoresby’s wife sat demurely and examined a 1994 calendar tacked to a partition nearby. Somebody had circled a week in June and written on it ‘ Ulladulla Servo’s Fishing Comp. ‘
‘ I didn’t punch it.’
‘ Bloke says you did. Swears it. Gotta witness. ‘
‘ He’s mistaken. ‘
Winters suddenly looked exasperated. ‘ There’s a fucken dent in the door! ‘
A commotion on the other side of the partition silenced Winters for a moment and they all watched as two uniformed constables escorted a completely inebriated man through the room and in the direction of the holding cells. The man brought his retainers to a halt and looked malevolently at Winters.
‘ Yo7u0* fu%#k s&hi)@unt. ‘ He said with feeling, if not competence.
‘ Get stuffed Murray. ‘ Replied senior Constable Winters disinterestedly.
The two Constables then refreshed their grip on him and just as they approached the row of armor-glass holding cells Murray vomited upon their boots a copious stream of new beer and old food.
His raucous laughter only ceased when his head met the wall of his cell.
‘ Had a bloke do that to me once, ‘ Winters looked reflectively at the Constables as they looked miserably at their boots and trouser cuffs.
‘ I’d just about got him backed into the tank when he decides to let go the Technicolor yawn. The little bastard. He was standin’ up in the doorway and he let it rip all over me bloody shirt. Been eatin’ sweet and sour prawns all day I’d say. Topped off with about thirty schooners. Anyhow he forgot to let go the doorway after he’d dumped his load on me and I’ll be buggered if he didn’t lose a few fingers when we shut the door on him. Chucked ’em down the dunny.‘
Murray climbed off the floor and gave everyone a detailed description of senior Constable Winter’s lower anatomy.
‘ Youse’d feel better if your own dick hadn’t come off in your hand when you was eleven sport. ‘ said Winters before returning his attention to the statement. ‘ Wanker. ‘
He went on.
‘ The dent. How come? ’
Scoresby paused a moment.
‘ I knocked, I didn’t punch. ‘
‘ Knocked? He’s bullshittin’ me then is he? ’
‘ Yes. ‘
‘ Right. ‘
Winters paused for a moment and rubbed his face with a big hand. It sounded like sandpaper on stone. He looked angry.
‘ Why’d a bloke want to knock on a car goin’ past him for fucksake. Pardon me again Missus. Did yez want to git invited inside or somethin’? ‘
A plainclothesman wandered over and leaned against the wall. A small pistol was holstered on his waist. He looked down at Scoresby’s wife and winked. Wearily.
‘ No. He nearly swiped me on his way past. I knocked on the side of the car so he would know I was there. ‘
‘ When you was standin’ on the Pedestrian crossing?
‘ Yes. ‘
‘ And he goes past flat bloody out without stoppin’? ‘
‘ Yes. ‘
‘ And all you did was give him a little tap? ‘
‘ Yes. ‘
‘ On the side of the car.’
Winters looked up at the Detective. Two phones rang simultaneously. Murray was slumped asleep on the steel bench in his cell. The room stank.
‘ Shit! I would of punched a hole in the fucken window meself. ‘
based on an actual event