Snuff

Feeney.
    â€œOh, blimey, you’re the bloody son and grandson of coppers, my lad, what the hell do you think you should shout? Let me give you a clue. It does not include the word ‘please.’ I’ll give you a whistle when I’m in position, got it? Good.”
    They walked with care across the stinking yard and Vimes took up station around the back, where an interesting thought occurred to him and he made a mental note. He then leaned against the dirty wall of the house a little bit away from the back door, took a pinch of snuff to clear the air of turkey and gave one faint whistle.
    â€œOpen up in the name of the law! You are surrounded! You have one minute to open the door! I mean it! Open the door! This is the police!”
    Leaning cosily against the wall, Vimes grudgingly rated that as pretty good for a beginner, with one point taken off for adding “I mean it,” then, as a man flew out of the back door, he stuck out his boot.
    â€œGood morning, sir. My name is Commander Vimes! I hope you’re in a position to remember yours!”
    In the sheds the turkeys were going insane, causing a slight rise in the smell. The man struggled to his feet, looking around desperately.
    â€œOh, yes, you could run, yes, you could do that,” said Vimes in a conversational tone of voice, “but it might be thought by others that this might indicate that you knew you had some reason to run. Now, personally, I would agree that anyone stopped by a copper should run like buggery, innocent or not, on first principles. Besides, we get so fat these days that we need the exercise. But do run if you want to, Mr. Flutter, because I can run too, and very fast.”
    By now Flutter was smiling the smile of a man who thinks that this copper is not very smart.
    â€œI bet you don’t have a magistrate’s warrant, do ya’?”
    â€œWell now, Mr. Flutter, why might you think that, eh? Perhaps you think the magistrates might not issue a warrant to arrest you, yes? By the way, thank you for showing me where the tobacco barrels are stored. Your cooperation will be taken into consideration.”
    Some days are bad days, like when you stare right down into the mangled corpse of a young woman, and then you get good days, when the suspect’s darting eyes flashing across the yard show you exactly where the loot is hidden.
    â€œI shall, of course, mention your cooperation to the authorities and, of course, in the local pub as well, ah, yes.”
    And now Mr. Flutter was relishing the thought of being seen as some kind of grass, so stupidly he went for, “I never told you anything about any tobacco, and you know it, copper!”
    At this point Feeney stepped around the corner with his fearsome club raised and a look of almost comical aggression on his face. “You want me to give him the old one-two, commander, just say the word, guv!”
    Vimes rolled his eyes in mock despair. “No need for that, Feeney, no need for that, just when Mr. Flutter here is so anxious to talk to us, understand?”
    Flutter decided that the way forward was an appeal to Feeney. “Look, Feeney, you know me—”
    He got that far and no further because Feeney said, “It’s Constable Upshot to you, Flutter. My dad had you up before the beaks two dozen times, you know. He used to call you the bluebottle on account of whenever there was a load of shit going down he’d find you flapping about in it. And he told me to watch you, which is what I am doing right now, in fact.” He glanced at Vimes, who gave him an encouraging nod and then said, “You see my problem, Mr. Flutter, we’re not here to talk about contraband tobacco, okay? Now, I never saw myself as a revenuer, not a popular profession. I’m a copper pure and simple, right, and in my hand I have this man what is only doing a favor to his employer by storing a few barrels of tobacco in his shed, but on the other hand, well, if I found a murderer in the other hand, why, gods bless you, I might totally forget all about the first hand…Don’t ask me to draw you a picture, Flutter, because my hands are full.”
    Flutter looked aghast. “This is about that goblin, right? Look, it wasn’t me! Okay, I’m a bit of a naughty boy, I put my hand up to that, but I ain’t like him! I’m a scallywag, not a damn murderer!”
    Vimes looked at Feeney. Some people could be said to be as