The meanest Flood

can add the last name yourself.’
    ‘Indulge me,’ Sam said, knowing whose name would complete the list, but wanting to keep the guy on the phone, hoping he would give himself away, or at least leave a tiny clue to his identity.
    ‘Miss Angeles Falco,’ the voice said.
    The line went dead and Sam headed for the door. ‘File that away,’ he said to himself. ‘That single word, transformed. “When your ex-partner was transformed ”.’
     

16
     
    Ruben dropped the empties off and parked his van. Since he’d crushed the detective’s balls there’d been the nagging suspicion that the police would pick him up, lay another assault charge on him. But he hadn’t heard anything. The detective didn’t know who he was anyway, and he’d brought it on himself, chasing Ruben down the street like that. For what? For taking the guy’s photograph? Like that was an offence?
    The detective, Sam Turner, Kitty’s ex... he should be happy that he came out of it with only a knee in the balls. Any other time Ruben would’ve landed a straight right on the guy’s honker, his killer punch. Could’ve been broken bone, blood and smashed cartilage instead of a couple of bruised pills.
    Ruben had noticed this before with other people. They tended to escalate situations. What Ruben did, his instinct was to contain any situation which arose. Violence can flare up in a moment, sometimes it only takes a word or an accidental shove, anything can start the thing off. Ruben would respond by downing the other guy as simply and as quickly as possible. Finished. The situation’s over and contained and everybody can go about their business. But what happened if Ruben didn’t get in there first, sort the thing, was that the other guy would start shouting or shoving, maybe put his fists up and come for you. Other people’d join in, especially if it was in a pub, Saturday night, say, or a football match and everyone’d had a few. You could end up in a brawl. Then before you know where you are the local bottles are round and pushing you into the back of a Black Maria. They’re escalating the situation as well. Next day they’ll have you in front of a beak and there’ll be a fine at least, something you can’t afford. Somebody’s old lady will have to fork it out of the housekeeping or get another loan and so she’s dragged into it now. The kids aren’t getting enough grub. The guy feels guilty because he’s let his family down so the kids and the missis all get a slap or two and the thing’s escalated out of all proportion. And for why? Because somebody like Ruben wasn’t there in the first place to contain it, that’s why. You didn’t have to be a politician or a copper or a soldier to keep law and order. You just needed to have your head screwed on the right way.
    After he showered, Ruben put on a pair of black jeans and a leather belt with a Cherokee buckle and a T-shirt that showed off his biceps. He wore white socks with black trainers and round his neck he hung his gold ingot on its gold chain. Bit of class there to prove he wasn’t a common thicky.
    Kitty’s last boyfriend lived near Anstey and Ruben headed down the A46 imagining what would happen when he came face to face with the guy. All he had was his name - Pete Lewis - and the fact that Kitty had dumped him because he was a skinflint. Ruben couldn’t understand why she’d gone out with a skinflint in the first place. The word conjured up a picture of a Scrooge-like character, somebody who wouldn’t buy himself a razor blade and wore those fingerless gloves and in the winter he’d sit around a candle to keep warm.
    Maybe the guy had gone to the house to rob her? He’d seen she was living OK and thought he could add a few quid to his hoard. Only the robbery had gone wrong. Kitty had found him in the house and he’d killed her to keep her quiet, cover his tracks. Ruben decided to ask him straight out. He’d know if the guy was lying, squeeze the truth out of him.
    He enquired in the village from some tiny gentleman type with a pooch who looked as though he’d be more at home in the city. Straight people like that, Ruben always thought they’d run off if he spoke to them, but some of them, like this one, didn’t even blink. He knew the area, pointed Ruben back down the road to a building that looked like it had been converted from a ruin.
    He glanced back, got the pooch guy in his mirror and idled the engine while he took in who the man was, what made