Thursdays With Uncle Boom #95

You can't smoke in here, this is a Police Station!?

I was interrupted mid-puff of my pipe by an irate looking police officer who had burst in the door of the holding room I was sitting in.

He looked like a proper policeman despite having a face like a sandpapered bollock.

I beg your pardon, old fellow but I wasn't smoking?

The police officer looked at the smoke curling towards the ceiling then at my now empty hands in confusion.

You bloody well were, that's smoke? I saw you!

He motioned to opposite corners of the ceiling where some innocuous looking camera lenses scanned the room.

Oh, you mean my pipe? That's not smoking, old fellow. One doesn't smoke a pipe.

I tittered as if the police officer was a one-testicled oaf with a red face.

The officers gnarly red face darkened to a deep beetroot with anger as if he were chewing on a stick of licorice only to discover it was an African man's penis.

Whatever you fucking call it, don't do it again? Understand?

I bowed my head in acquiescence and he turned to leave.

Excuse me, old fellow?

I called after him.

What is it?

He regarded me with a suspicious eye.

Have you ever lain on your back, legs akimbo whilst a Drunk Irishman's gives your Back-Bentley a right good funtering?

Have I fucking what!? You cheeky fucking bastard, I'll...

He was interrupted by the door snicking open. It was Chief Inspector Hilton and another peonic looking police officer.

Ah, Boomy. I see you have met Officer Pensive already? This chap here with me is Officer Stewn.

He pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the table from me.

Now, I am sure you know why you are here. I'm not going to beat about the bush. Your good friend Dobbers was murdered two weeks ago followed by your maid last week...

He made a face as if he had stopped himself farting for so long the farts had dissolved back into him.

Now. Being both gentlemen I am sure we can clear this up swiftly and you can be on your way... Can you tell me where you were on both nights?

Chief Inspector Hilton smiled somewhat pleadingly.

I ignored him and looked over his shoulder to where the other peon of a policeman stood, the new one. Officer Stewn.

Officer Stewn, I had just asked Pensive there if an Irishman had ever banged his beefy bongos. Might I inquire the same of you? Have you ever found yourself on your knees before a salty Irishman as he doused you in his mad monk?

Both the officers sputtered in outraged disbelief. Pensive reached for the truncheon at his belt.

ENOUGH!!!

Bellowed Hilton.

Boomy, I asked you a question. Now answer me dammit and stop goading the bloody officers!?

I flicked my glance away from the now furious Police Officers and fastened it to Hilton.

My whereabouts on those nights? It pains me to say it old fellow but I really cannot say, after all...

Hilton shook his head.

No, no, no. I was afraid it would come to this. If you cannot tell me, a fellow gentleman, then I am afraid I will have to arrest you.

There was a silence.

I looked at Hilton long and hard as if he were a beggar with one shoe asking for bus fare.

Arrest me...

Yes.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Hilton, have you ever been diddled up the muck by an angry Irishman?

Hilton flinched back.

So that's how it's going to be...

He turned to the two officers behind him.

Officers, arrest this man under suspicion of...

WAIT!

I stood and raised a hand.

My mother was Irish, you know? No? Another thing. You never searched me when I came in?

I lifted my coat up and dipped my hand into a little inside pocket and pulled out Mathilda. The wicked little blade glittering in the light.

My voice boomed out deafeningly in the small room.

WELL, NONE OF YOU MIGHT EVER HAVE BEEN FUCKED BY AN IRISHMAN BEFORE BUT YOU'RE GOING TO GET FUCKED BY ONE NOW.

The two officers scrabbled for their batons. Hilton fumbled a gun from somewhere into his hand.

I eyed the gun. Was this the end? It was not as I had been led to believe.

So be it.

I advanced upon them, a feral smile splitting my face.

Chief Inspector?? Chief Inspector!!!

We froze, a curious tableau. Me, knife pulled back ready for a killing thrust, two policeman, batons swinging and Hilton, gun steadying, aiming directly at my face.

Sir...

The new peon Officer did a double take at the sight of us before ploughing on.

There a woman out front, she's most distressed. Said she was here to provide an alibi for Uncle Boom here. Said she was with him, "most intimately," the nights the murders took place?

I tucked my knife away, so quick it was at if it had never been out.

Hilton looked perplexed then happy. He motioned briskly at the two officers to put away their batons and turned to me.

You have an alibi? I knew you would. Why the hell didn't you just say?

My face was grim as if I were an Iguana and someone had pulled my tail off.

I categorically had not murdered Dobbers nor my maid Liselle. But I also had no alibi for the nights in question.

But now it appeared I had?

I straightened up and flashed Hilton a grin.

Why didn't I say? Well, you should know, Hilton, old fellow...