Page 74 of The Hallmarked Man
It was news to the detective that Shanker’s girlfriend had already decided at least once already that her household would function better without Shanker in it, but it didn’t come as much of a surprise.
‘How’s Angel?’ asked Strike, who knew Alyssa’s older daughter had had leukaemia.
‘Doin’ well,’ said Shanker.
‘That’s good,’ said Strike.
‘Yeah,’ said Shanker moodily. ‘I love them kids. Fuckin’ love ’er as well, fuckin’ bitch.’
He glugged some beer.
‘This what you wanted to talk about?’ asked Strike. ‘Because I’m not much of a relationship counsellor.’
‘Nah,’ said Shanker. ‘I know what I’m gonna do about fuckin’ Alyssa.’
‘Yeah? What?’ said Strike.
He stood ready to oppose any mooted plan of revenge orintimidation against a single mother whose eldest child had been seriously ill, but Shanker responded,
‘Jewellery.’
‘Jewellery,’ repeated Strike.
‘Got that tip off me old man, before ’e went senile,’ said Shanker. ‘Women never say no to jewellery. Only useful fing ’e ever fuckin’ told me. They don’ chuck it, an’ then they fink about you every time they fuckin’ look at it.’
‘Wise counsel,’ said Strike.
‘You can fuckin’ smirk, but ’e ’ad kids wiv abou’ ten diff’rent women.’
‘By giving them all jewellery?’
‘Well, ’e ’ad a nine-inch cock as well,’ said Shanker, and Strike laughed.
‘So why’m I here?’ he asked. ‘Dredge the drug dealer?’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Shanker, as though he’d only just remembered this. ‘Dredge ain’t never killed that boy. He was jus’ tryna put the frighteners on. The kid give ’im a coupla grand in cash, so Dredge backed off.’
‘Wait, what?’ said Strike.
‘That kid,’ said Shanker impatiently, ‘Fleetfing, the geezer you fort might be dead. ’E ain’t. ’E gave Dredge a coupla grand to get ’im off ’is back, an’ Dredge let ’im off. Fleetfing wasn’ the one what done the dir’y on Dredge, was ’e? It was ’is mate, what fucked off to Africa.’
‘You’re positive about this?’ said Strike. ‘Rupert Fleetwood gave Dredge a couple of grand to leave him alone?’
‘Jus’ said that, d’in I?’
‘Right,’ said Strike. ‘Well, that’s good to know.’
‘Tha’s not why I wan’ed to meet ya, though,’ said Shanker, lowering his voice.
‘Really?’ asked Strike, puzzled. ‘Why’m I here, then?’
‘Doin’ ya a favour.’
Strike took a sip of beer, then waited, interested in what was coming next.
‘You’re diggin’ where you shouldn’t, Bunsen.’
Strike looked at him, perplexed.
