Wild Fiction

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She hurried downstairs and opened the door. Getting out of a white Ford Sierra were two men in smart suits. One of them, moustachioed, and bearing a vague resemblance to George Michael, put this hand inside his jacket and produced a wallet which he opened up and flashed in front of Genevieve. It had his photograph and some small printed details. What caught Genevieve’s eye was the larger type across the top that read ‘Police Sergeant’.
‘Good morning ma’am, I’m Sergeant Grovijohn and this is PC White. Our apologies for disturbing you but we have just been informed that two prisoners have escaped from Belmarsh Prison in East London. We have reason to believe that they’ve come into this area and we’re canvassing for any sightings of them. Have you seen any strange men around here in the last twelve hours?’
‘What do they look like?’ Genevieve asked. She felt a tremor run down her spine. The police had never asked her anything as exciting as this before.
‘One of them is just over six feet tall and is of mixed English and Jamaican descent. He has curly black hair, a broad nose and wide mouth. There’s a scar that runs diagonally across his chest from his left collarbone to just below his rib cage. The other is a white fella and a lot shorter. He’s only five foot eight and has a spider web tattoo on his neck below his left ear.’ Sergeant Grovijohn read the descriptions off a typed sheet of paper he was holding in his hand.
‘Do they have names?’
‘The little one is called Andrew Corphie. Everyone calls him ‘The Corpus’ though because of the number of people he’s alleged to have murdered. Don’t let his size deceive you, he’s a dangerous character. His mate is Peter Hogland. Have you seen either of these men?’
‘I don’t think so, do you have photos of them?’
White glanced at Grovijohn who did not flinch but answered Genevieve’s question. ‘No ma’am, the photos haven’t been released yet. When we do have details they will be released to the press.’
Genevieve looked from one to the other. Grovijohn held her gaze in a relaxed manner, the way a man with complete confidence would. White would not meet her eye. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and kept looking down at the ground.
‘I haven’t seen anyone strange,’ she replied. ‘This is very exciting though having dangerous criminals on the loose in our neighbourhood.’
Grovijohn smiled briefly at her. ‘They’re very dangerous ma’am. They are, or I should say were, serving time for aggravated burglary. If you see them, please don’t approach them, just call us,’ he said handing her a card with his number.
‘Our apologies for disturbing your morning ma’am. Goodbye.’ Grovijohn turned and left and White followed behind him having not said a word.

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