Waiting for Wednesday

it.
Have you ever heard the expression about giving a dog a bad name?’
    Munster looked at him in disbelief.
‘Is this the dog that keeps being put in prison for hitting people and selling
things that other people have stolen? And while we’re on the subject, these bits
of property don’t just go missing on their own. People like you nick them.
Don’t mess us around, Billy. We’ve heard about you. You’ve got a drug
habit and you steal to pay for it.’
    Hunt took a gulp of beer, followed by a deep
drag on his cigarette. He looked at Riley, who was grinning. ‘I don’t know
what’s so funny,’ he said. ‘I only got started when I was inside.
There’s more gak inside than there is on the streets. And that wanker, Burgess.
Everyone comes round and bothers me and there’s Burgess with his fucking shop. Why
does everyone let him carry on?’
    ‘Billy,’ said Munster.
‘Shut up. Where did you get the silver?’
    Hunt paused. ‘There was a guy. He had
some bits and pieces, bits of silver. He was desperate for cash, so I gave him some and
passed it on to Burgess. End of story.’
    ‘Did you ask him where he got
it?’
    ‘No, I didn’t. I’m not the
Antiques
fucking
Roadshow
.’
    ‘What’s his name?’
    ‘I don’t know. Dave, I
think.’
    ‘Dave,’ said Munster.
‘Dave what?’
    ‘I don’t know. I don’t
really know him.’
    ‘Where does he live?’
    ‘South of the river, I think. But
I’m not sure.’
    ‘Dave. South London,’ said
Munster. ‘Possibly. Do you know how to get in touch with him?’
    ‘It doesn’t really work like
that. You run into people. See them around. You know how it is.’
    ‘Yeah, I know,’ said Munster.
‘And while we’re at it, could you tell me where you were on
Wednesday?’
    ‘When? The one just gone?’
    ‘Yes. The sixth.’
    ‘I was out of London. I was down in
Brighton. Had a few days away.’
    ‘Is there anyone who can confirm
that?’
    ‘I was down with a friend.’
    ‘What’s his name?’
    ‘His name?’ said Hunt. Quite
slowly, he stubbed his cigarette out and lit another. ‘Ian.’
    ‘Second name?’
    ‘He was always just Ian.’
    ‘But you can tell us his
address?’
    Hunt looked doubtful. ‘I’ve got
it written down somewhere. Or I did have. It was at a friend of Ian’s. Ian
won’t be there. He moves around a lot.’
    ‘Arranging work for people,’
said Munster.
    ‘For his friends.’
    ‘I can’t believe I’m
actually bothering to say this out loud,’ said Munster, ‘but have you got
Ian’s phone number?’
    ‘It was on my phone. I’m not
completely sure where my phone is.’
    ‘You realize what we’re
asking?’ said Munster. ‘You’ve been here before. We want you to point
us in the direction of someone who will say to us: “Yes, Billy Hunt was with me in
Brighton on Wednesday.” Is there such a person?’
    ‘This isn’t right,’ said
Hunt. ‘This is a matter of … What this is about
is … is … that I’m not like you. Or you,’ he added,
looking at Riley, who seemed bemused. ‘You’ve got your nice homes and all
your insurance and your water bills with your names on them.’
    ‘My water bill?’ said
Munster.
    ‘And you’ve got all your nice
friends and you go out to dinner with them. You all look out for each other and – and
you can just prove where you were all the time and you’ve got a job and a pension
and paid holidays.’
    ‘What the fuck are you talking
about?’
    ‘We’re not all like you.
Don’t you read the papers? Some of us are having to struggle to get by.’
    ‘Will you shut up?’ said
Munster. ‘I don’t care about any of this. But I’m finding it a bit
difficult to pin anything down. Do you have an address?’
    ‘You see, that’s just what
I’m talking about. People like you, you always have an address.’ Hunt drew
imaginary quotation marks with his fingers around the word ‘address’.
    ‘All right. Let’s make it
simple. Where did you sleep last night?’
    ‘Last night?’ said Hunt,
thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know. I stay with different people, with friends.
I’m looking for somewhere permanent.’
    ‘Like you’re looking for a
job?’ said Munster.
    ‘Like that.’
    ‘One more thing,’ said Munster.
‘And this is just a formality, so that my colleague can write it in his
notebook.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘It wasn’t by any chance you who
stole the silver from sixty-three Margaretting Street?’
    ‘No, it wasn’t.’
    ‘All right,’ said