Kerry Greenwood - Blood and Circuses

But when he came into the Blue Diamond and found the owner’s large friends beating Lizard Elsie, he felt that subtlety was out of place and that strong and immediate action was needed.

To simplify the situation he waded into the crowd, hauled off one man and threw him against the wall, fatally injuring the decor. He tripped another so that he slid across the room and collided with a pile of chairs. He pulled the old woman out from under a pile of bodies and saw that Elsie had her teeth fixed firmly in one attacker’s ear.

‘Let go, Elsie,’ panted Tommy Harris. ‘I’ve got him. Let go!’

Elsie muttered something and refused to unclench. Her victim was white and screaming.

‘Get her off me!’

‘Let go, Elsie!’ commanded Constable Harris. The woman growled like a mastiff, her skinny hands clawing for the man’s more delicate parts to complete her victory. The victim clutched at his groin and screamed again. He was a lot bigger than Elsie but this did not seem to be of much assistance to him.

The patrons of the Blue Diamond had all withdrawn out of reach and were watching, fascinated. Constable Harris noticed a party in theatre-going clothes. One of the men was smoking a fat cigar, and Tommy was put in mind of a ferret which had been his constant companion during his youth. It had been a good ferret, called Bandit, but it couldn’t help biting. Once, when faced with the prospect of his sole offspring spending a lifetime with a ferret clamped to his finger, his father had found a novel solution. Deciding to apply it, Tommy leaned over, plucked the cigar from the man’s lips and blew a cloud of strong Havana smoke into Elsie’s face. Then he returned the cigar to the patron and dragged Lizard Elsie onto her feet as she sneezed and released her hold.

‘There we are,’ said Tommy in his butter-soft voice. ‘That’s better, Elsie girl.’

Her victim was sitting on the floor, holding his outraged ear with one hand and caressing his outraged genitals with the other.

‘She’s mad!’ he yelled. ‘She came in here asking for a drink and we was just showing her the door and—’

‘Takes three of you to throw me out, you fucking bastards,’ snarled Elsie. ‘Three of you! It would have taken bloody four when I had me strength. I’m fifty years old and it took three of you to get me down.’

‘Now, now, Elsie,’ soothed Constable Harris. ‘Let’s you and me sit down and have a drink, eh?’

‘That’s what I was fucking trying to do.’ Elsie was not pleased. ‘When these curs jumped on me.’

‘Well, well, these misunderstandings will happen,’ said Tommy. ‘Come on. You sit down here and have a drink and I’ll have a word to the manager.’ He took a bottle from a waitress’s tray and put it down in front of the old woman. ‘That’s right. Want a glass?’

‘A glass? What for?’ asked Elsie scornfully, applying the bottle to her lips.

Tommy left her and went to intercept Mr Albert Ellis, who was advancing across the ruined club with blood in his eye.

‘Mr Ellis, is it?’ asked Tommy easily. ‘Had a little trouble?’ He surveyed the owner and did not approve of what he saw. Albert Ellis was overdressed, had teeth like a rat, and altogether too much pomade on his hair. He offended Tommy’s taste in a way which Lizard Elsie did not.

‘Constable Harris,’ said Ellis, recognising him. ‘You going to arrest that bitch?’

‘No, why should I?’

‘She comes into my club, breaking my fittings, assaulting my staff . . .’

‘If your staff can’t deal with one old lady I reckon you should hire more,’ said Tommy easily. ‘And your decor ain’t nothing to write home about, either.’

This was undeniable. The Blue Diamond was furnished with chairs and benches that seemed to have come from an old cinema. Its walls, what could be seen of them, were painted pink and covered with old posters of film stars. Small tables made of packing cases, and a bar constructed of an old ticket box completed the ambiance. People did not go the the Blue Diamond for luxury. It was licensed to serve drinks with food until midnight. A supper at the Blue Diamond consisted of one ham sandwich. The ham was transparent and local legend said that the same sandwich had been in use for as long as the club had been open. It was now fossilised. In future times, museums might bid for it.

The Blue Diamond would undoubtedly be closed down for violations of its liquor licence, to open a month later under a new name. Cigarette butts littered the floor and the hot air was heavy with smoke. A dance band was tootling away in one corner, and on the pocket-handkerchief dance floor people had been dancing before the fracas with Lizard Elsie had provided a more interesting show.

‘I’m not having her in my club,’ said Albert Ellis. ‘Take her away.’

Lizard Elsie heard this and screeched, ‘You pox-rotted mongrel! You promised me ten bottles of ruby port, you fucking cur!’

‘Shut her up!’ snapped Ellis, and two of the fallen rose groaning and closed on Lizard Elsie. Tommy recognised Wholesale Louis on the floor, and Cyclone Freddy and the Mad Pole rising from the half-dead. They were both big and dangerous and they seemed to be rather cross with Elsie. Tommy was alone. He reached for the old woman and gathered her into his arms.

‘Come on, my girl,’ he said. ‘We’re leaving.’

‘Ooh, sailor,’ crooned Elsie, nursing her bottle. ‘Been a long time since anyone swept me off my feet.’

Tommy backed towards the door and it swung behind them. He was out in Brunswick Street before the boss could react. Still, it wouldn’t take them long. He hefted Elsie, who was surprisingly light, and began to run.

He had been so delighted with the idea of plain clothes work that he did not even have his whistle. However, he thought as he settled into a fast gallop, he must meet the beat policeman fairly soon. Then his colleague could summon assistance before Tommy and Elsie got the pummelling of a lifetime.

He heard voices behind them, and then feet. A shot pinged past him and buried itself in the door of the butcher’s shop.

‘They’re shooting!’ said Tommy with an astonished gasp. ‘Else, they’re shooting at us! We’ve gotta get off the street!’

Elsie, who had been hanging over his shoulder and watching behind, croaked, ‘There’s three of ’em, and that mongrel Louis’s got a gun.’

‘Elsie, what have you got yourself into?’ wondered Tommy Harris aloud. ‘It must be something big for them to risk shooting in the street—or shooting at all. It’s like Robinson said. Gangsters.’

‘Turn here!’ shrieked Elsie uncomfortably close to his ear. Harris paused. At that moment some force slammed him back against the wall at the corner of the lane. He staggered and dropped his burden. Elsie landed lightly and pulled him around the corner by the arm.

‘In here, sailor!’

She dropped to her knees and crawled under a fence. Tommy followed, feeling suddenly weak.

‘Lie here and don’t squeak,’ she ordered and slid back. She reappeared with a soaked and muddy shirt, which she dropped beside him.

‘Bit of shoosh,’ she suggested.

Tommy Harris felt for his side and found that his hand came away warm and wet. I’ve been shot, he thought. He was in no pain and his principal emotion was amazement.

Feet clattered down the lane and past the fence and paused. A cigarette lighter clicked and yellow light flared over the corrugated iron fences. A dog began to bark. Tommy Harris held his breath, feeling Lizard Elsie’s thin hand close on his shoulder. A voice said, ‘Nah. No trace. And we winged him and there’s no blood on these cobbles. Try the next lane, boys.’

The footsteps retreated.

‘You’re shot,’ said Elsie calmly. ‘I wiped up the blood with me second-best shirt. Crawl a bit back and we can have a light and I’ll have a look at yer, sailor.’