Vinnie was laying on the podium without his feet.

His feet were on the fourteenth.

'Vinnie my son,' I goes, 'you come off second best mate, you never ought to gone up there you fucker. Jesus Vinnie.'

He was dead. So would you be you fell off the fourteenth and no feet.

He was like a burst tomato.

Then I puked up all over him didn't help matters. 'Sorry geezer,' I muttered, 'sorry Vinnie mate only I aren't used to clocking geezers with no feet.' Then I had to kneel down I shook so much. He was my mate Vinnie.

Belled 999 on the mobile. Operator came on asking what service. 'Old Bill,' I goes. 'Quick.' Old Bill comes on. 'Been a murder,' I goes. 'Chingford Hall, St Francis, round the podium. Vinnie O'Rourke. Ain't got no feet on him they been sawed off. Jesus.'

Then I fucked off. No point sitting around waiting on Old Bill. Be round mine soon enough. They knew Vinnie was my mate.

Vinnie was nineteen didn't know shit.

Vinnie and me were mates since the time we found his stepdad shagging my mum. Brought us together like. There we were, let off school early some power failure, teacher brought us home. Vinnie said no one was in round his that time so teacher brought us both round mine, next block on Priory Court. I had a key let us in and there they were, on the carpet.

In front of teacher too.

'What you doin' 'ere Nicky?' goes my mum.

'What you doin' 'ere Vinnie?' his stepdad goes.

'What you doing on the floor Mum?' I goes, six years old, thought the floor was for wrestling.

'What you doin' shagging Nicky's mum?' five-year-old Vinnie goes, did know about some things.

'Excuse me Mrs Burkett,' teacher turns round and says, 'I brought Nicky home because there was a power failure. I didn't realise you were busy ... measuring up for a new carpet.'

'Power failure!' screamed my mum. 'Bleeding power failure! And I'm not Mrs Burkett!' On account of she got married later on after having me and Sharon.

Vinnie and me we were always mates after that. Had something in common. Ask me I reckon teacher thought it was a laugh too.

Vinnie was dead.

No way he went there alone, heavy duty like that.

Or else he never reckoned. Went there do a small deal maybe handful of spliffs. Only he was out of his league, and me too.

I went off the estate puked up again. Then I went home for some grub.

Over the footbridge on the North Circular, cross over Billet Road and down the Court. Mum was there and Shithead. Sharon was there with her kid.

'Well look who's here.'

'Where you been Nicky? Last three days your mum's been worried sick about you.'

''Ello Nicky,' Sharon goes.

Sat down and had a cup of tea.

'Vinnie was round for you,' Mum turns round and says.

Oh shit. I looked at the TV.

'What's up Nicky?' Sharon goes.

'Nothing.'

'Yeah, come round dinnertime said he wanted a hand. Maybe some sort of motor I dunno.'

'Anyone with him?'

'Black lad. Lives up Blackhorse somewhere.'

'Sherry?'

'That's him,' Sharon goes. Sherry was a mate of her Kevin, baby-father.

'They say anything? Where they were going?'

'No. Said to say they were here.'

I picked up the phone and belled Roy The Mouth was always my brief on the big stories. Nicked a pushbike you never belled Roy he couldn't be arsed, but you get in heavy bother Roy's your man, bit of wedge in it and he's there. Rang him at home.

'Sorry Roy mate,' I goes. 'Need your help mate.'

'All right Nicky,' he turns round and says. 'Got to be serious ringing me here, bit of time in it is there?'

'Could be big notes Roy.'

'Give it to me my son.'

'You reckon my mate Vinnie?'

'Vinnie O'Rourke, yes. Acted for him on a couple of burglaries, nondomestic.'

'He got blown away.'

'He never! Not Vinnie ... Oh my Gawd.' Roy saw loads of future legal aid going up the canal.

'I found him. Called Old Bill. I better make a statement, need you there.'

'Sure Nicky, sure. We'll go up Chingford now. I'll meet you outside in half an hour, all right?'

But there was more and he knew it. So far there was no folding stuff but he could smell it out somewhere. 'What's the story Nicky?' he goes.

'Might be my brief on a capital,' I says.

'Ah. Now don't do anything foolish Nicky, you stay right there ... but if you do anything foolish you know you can count on me of course.'

'See you Roy.'

Meanwhile Mum and Shithead and Sharon were gawking.

'Oh my God Nicky,' Mum says. 'Not Vinnie, little Vinnie.'

'Yeah.'

'Oh my God Nicky, now don't you get involved now.'

Rang a minicab take me Chingford nick. Then rang George, my warrant officer. Got him at home.

'George,' I goes polite like, 'can you do me a favour? It's Nicky Burkett.'

'Jesus Nicky, how'd you get my home number you little bastard?' Then George remembers he's in front of his wife and kids. 'Nicky what the hell's up with you? You ain't got no fines the moment, you're all paid up. What the hell you ringing me here for?'

'George I need a favour. You being my warrant officer and all.' George summoned you to court you didn't pay your dues, fines and that. They made the good pigs warrant officers on account of it being a shitty job and how they weren't polite they might get sliced up. George had our patch, came on his pushbike about seven in the morning, had a cup of tea, sometimes stayed for a bit of breakfast then served the summons on you, court next week you didn't pay up.

'Nicky I ain't your warrant officer except it sometimes feels like it. I happen to be the officer covering your patch for my sins.'

'George I'm in a big one here.'

'Go on Nicky.'

'You know my mate Vinnie, lives Block F.'

'Vinnie O'Rourke.'

'He's been blown away on the estate. Thrown off the top. They sawed his plates off first.'

'Jesus.'

'I found him on the podium. Just going up Chingford make a statement. Can I like have you there as witness?'

'Witness to what? You need a lawyer Nicky.'

'I got a lawyer George. Roy Flowerdew.'

'No comment.'

'Want someone extra up Chingford.'

'What about your mum?'

'Leave it out George.'

'What about all them mates of yours Nicky?'

'They're all criminals. I got to have someone like straight, tell me where to go what happens next. This is big mischief George.'

'It's most irregular Nicky. I'm a police officer, I can't be your lawyer and I'm not the interviewing officer. What you want me to be?'

'You know them up Chingford George. Mess you around.' Couldn't like just say they straightened your teeth in the cells, he might not like it. 'And I ain't done nothing and I don't want no Chingford Filth saying I did.'

'Oi that's enough of that. All right Nicky, I dare say I'll wander down, say I know you both and might get information out of you, wipe your bum that sort of thing. See you there in fifteen minutes.'

'Appreciate it George. Do the same for you one day.'

'No you bleedin' won't.'

'Promise I'll pay all my fines straight up next time.'

'You could save us all a lot of trouble and not make it a next time. No chance of that though I suppose.'

Minicab was outside and I went up the nick. Insides shaking like, rattling. Sharon said she'd come, she was a good'un Sharon, but I said no like. Best get it sorted.

* * *

In the minicab it was on the news so the copshop was buzzing. Papers, TV and the local Guardian, nice young bit. Met The Mouth outside and he was like a pig in shit, already put on extra lotion, smelled like a wine bar. 'Come on Nicky,' he went loudly for the TV 'let's get in there eh.'

First time I ever went in Chingford nick by the front door. There were stripes rolling up in all directions, Bill coming in from home on overtime, doors slamming, only at the desk it was like nothing was going down anywhere in the world. Shitty old walls, butts on the floor, one old geezer missing his dog, woman on a producer, Wayne Sapsford on daily reporting and some roller letting on the world was going to end at ten past eight. Duty sergeant drinking tea and taking details on the dog.

'Excuse me,' goes Roy being very important, 'my client here wishes to make a statement.'

'Be the first time,' says the sergeant. 'Thought all your clients got speech impediments Mr Flowerdew.'

'Now now sergeant, this is not the time for witticisms. Mr Burkett wishes to make a statement on the murder case.'

'What murder case is that then?' Mr Cool. But he went out the back and came back with DS Grant, fucking Mr Notorious down the whole borough. Two saving graces I had here, one I got a witness and two I wasn't black else I'd be head-butting DS Grant's toes then Assault On Police. Short, fat and liked freeman's.

'I ain't making no statement to him,' I goes.

'Let's see what we can sort out Nicky,' goes The Mouth. 'We'll go through and see who the officer in the case is.'

Went through and they found us a room. Then George the warrant turned up, not even his nick but he was talking to them. 'Thank you officer,' I went and got a sharp one, never called him officer before nor said thank you for that matter. Went out again and he did the business somehow and there was two came in, one young and thick, one older geezer I never saw before. Went to work.

Name and address and that. Been alone they'd have my bleeding prints. Got their pad out, one on notes the older geezer asking.

'Now tell us in your own words. Take your time. First, what was your purpose in visiting Chingford Hall tonight?'

'Visiting.'

'Who were you visiting?'

'Objection!' screams Roy, learned his style off American TV. 'My client has come here of his own free will to assist the police with a murder enquiry. His personal affairs are not relevant.'

'Went to see some tart,' I goes.

'I see. We'll come back to that if we need to. Take it from the start. Can you tell us which direction you were coming from and as near as possible the time?'

So it went off. Got to admit I shook a bit, needed a cup of tea. Told them all except about Vinnie going after Sherry, had to find Sherry first, see what they were after. Statement took up five pages then they read it back, didn't sound like anything I ever said but no objection. Signed it every page, they signed it and I was free to go.

'Please could you stay around the district,' goes the older geezer turned out to be DS O'Malley. 'You might be able to help us further. Oh and Mr Burkett, by the way, these look like heavy villains. You might want to keep a low profile, not try to solve the case yourself, you know?' Otherwise I might want flying lessons too.

'Yeah,' I mumbled. 'Reckon.' Then we went out, thanked George and Roy lifted me back Mum's.

Wandsworth

What the fuck I'm doing back in Wandsworth God only knows. Down in Ford minding my own business and got a nice sideline in yeast, then suddenly ghosted out one day, pack your roll and you're back up the pigsty. No reason, don't need a reason. Discipline. The whole shit. Me a con near the end, hardly no nickings and back in Wandsworth treated like shit. Petition if you want, come about five years' time you get told to fuck off personally by the Minister of State.

Then they gave me mad Abdul straight off, aimed at telling me the score only for what I never reckoned. Called him Abdul, Turkish geezer, didn't speak English, spent all his time on the floor praying. Couldn't take too much of that praying.

Two days Brixton after court and then Abdul was here. Four years Importation some screw said, been on remand but reckoned he'd get not guilty. Had the trial, judge leaned over and gave him the sentence, Abdul smiled politely back at him and only found out when the interpreter gave him the news. Likely he never even knew he was guilty when he came in the airport, doing a favour some cousin, there you go a present for grandma and it's full of powder. Cousin bells the customs so they bust Abdul and the big one goes through somewhere else.

First night he got the trots, must have been nervous. Everyone got it some meals like semolina or curry only Abdul got it on special diet. You ever smelt special diet diarrhoea? Jesus. Probably not too bad back home only round here always reckon they put the yard sweepings in special diet, bit of dog end, bit of rat shit and chili it all up. Poor old Abdul, only it was me had to smell it all night out the slop bucket.

They put him on the workshop straight off occupy his mind. Sat there sewing and moaning, moaning and sewing. And praying. Only trouble was he lifted everything sharp he could lay his mitts on. God knows how he got them out the shop, they check all the gear and then they check the cons. Must have been a human magnet, got needles and nails and blades, the monte. And all the time moaning and praying so loud they had to turn the radio up.

So I grassed a whisper to the SO Saturday morning. 'Look Mr Andrews,' I goes polite like, 'you reckon Abdul's planning to have it away in a coffin, know what I mean?'

'Hah bloody hah,' he turns round and says.

'Straight up,' I goes. 'Only if he bleeds a lot do I get a single cell on account of emotional trauma because I just cleaned up that peter?'

They had to listen then what with the publicity, death's bad for the image in the modern nick. So they spun him, still never found anything, and put him on the topping list, meant they looked in once a night if you're lucky. Much good that did, next night he started sticking things in him.

Some of it went in his gob, swallowed a couple of screws (metal variety not uniformed) and a few nails and a plastic spoon. Then he took a needle stuck it right in his stomach so it disappeared.

Don't know what it did to his digestion but it turned mine.

Then he got a half-blade started cutting up his legs, thigh to ankle, cuts across cuts down everywhere.

I started yelling and screaming, got everyone on the wing going.

Times the screws can't be stuffed or won't unlock case you jump them although they already radioed the gate where they can't come out the glass and the other wings. This time the screw came up yawning, glanced casual through the door then couldn't get in quick enough. Artery job like a fountain all over the walls. Screw stuck a thumb on it, suddenly thought about Aids, took his thumb off, nearly got it in the eye, put his hankie on instead. Came in alone which they're not supposed to, other hand held down Abdul trying to slice his own throat so couldn't work the radio, yelled me to do it. Always wanted to work that gear so switched on and yelled, 'Hey this Big Daddy here, time to boogie. Come in Charlie come in Leroy come in Winston.' Started a full alert, panic buttons and got the Bill, even a chopper, then they couldn't touch me on account of I was being cooperative. Wouldn't help me get back to an open neither, though.

Carted Abdul off to outside hospital, the screw's hankie still on his leg. Tried to tell them about the foreigners in his belly but the MO didn't seem fussed so I reckoned either they'd find them or they wouldn't. Still couldn't credit that needle though, straight in never left a mark!

Next day chatted the SO about the single cell again but never got a result. Had to get me out of the blood but pissed off about the chopper so instead of the single they put me in with Wing Mirror Man.

I was only on the estate for some puff and visit Kelly. Could easy buy the puff down the snooker hall but no harm killing two birds. Kelly lived on Sycamore with the kid, second floor, and first floor was good quality Moroccan. Only wanted a dozen spliffs for the weekend but it was quality blow, couldn't afford to pass it up. So I reckoned Friday night, put it up Kelly, buy some grass, game of pool and a few lagers up Hoe Street then maybe a Friday scrap. Bit of luck a few dickheads out of Loughton come up the dog track thought they'd bring the Sierra down town for a dustoff, then up Hoe Street for a lager. They were best of all for a rucking, dickheads out of Loughton honk up their rump steaks all over the gutter.

So I was heading up Sycamore Court when I clocked Vinnie without his feet. Never got the puff, never put it up Kelly, never needed to go looking for a straightener. Stand still it'd find me. Stand still too long and get no feet to stand on.

How the fuck you saw a geezer's plates off? For that matter, why the fuck? Only two reasons, either warn the rest or you just got a buzz off it. I could remember the days you just stabbed a geezer, now you had to saw his fucking legs off.

Vinnie wouldn't never want to go without his feet, I was sure of that. Poor fucking bastard. And only been shagging birds couple of years on account of they were Catholics. Poor fucking Vinnie.

First off I went round Sherry's that same night, see if I could find him, see what the game was. His mum came out the door, pleased to see Sherry's mates.

'Scuse me Mrs McAllister,' I went, 'I'm looking for Sherry.'

'Hey Nicky, where you been stranger? You all right?'