Read Online Borribles Go For Broke, The by Michael de Larrabeiti - Free Book Online Page A

was different; it was antiseptic, it was smart and it was systematic, Inspector Sussworth saw to that. He liked things to be polished and properly arranged.
    Behind the front door, and adorned with thick sick-green linoleum, was a narrow hallway leading to a narrow staircase which climbed steeply to three landings. On each landing were two rooms; each room had a desk, a telephone and a couple of deep, plastic-covered armchairs. At the rear of the ground floor was an enormous stainless-steel kitchen and dining room combined where the men of the SBG cooked meals and made their tea. In the garden a large sports room had been constructed; it contained showers, ludo boards, ping-pong tables and chest expanders.
Inspector Sussworth insisted that the constables who formed his group were fit, keen and spotless.
    On the first floor the two rooms were occupied by the inspector and his assistant and helpmate, Sergeant Hanks. The inspector had a larger desk than anyone else, a wooden desk that had been varnished and polished so often that its surface shone like a black mirror. He had the softest armchair too, and a colour television. Behind the television, in the corner furthest from the door, was the entrance to the inspector’s private lavatory, his pride and joy which he washed and disinfected every day, allowing no other person to use it. The lavatory’s every wall was tiled in six-inch squares of white porcelain, so was the ceiling. On the floor was a green carpet of cord and the toilet seat itself was padded and plush-covered; ‘just like they are for the Royals,’ Sussworth always said, proud and smug. Under an ever-open window, and within arm’s reach of the velvet throne, stood a small bamboo table which always carried a pile of tough, water-resistant lavatory paper and several copies of the Police Gazette . This was Sussworth’s inner sanctum, this was where he retired to think.
    In the sergeant’s room there was only a small desk but it did have three telephones as well as a radio receiver and transmitter. Hanks did not have a television of his own but he frequently watched programmes with the inspector. In fact, considering how totally different they were, it was amazing how well the two policemen got on. Some people said that Sussworth only kept Hanks in the group to remind himself and his men how gross and unpleasant the world really was. Others, more cruel perhaps, said that the sergeant only maintained his place in the SBG because he knew how to flatter Sussworth to the limit and how to do his bidding, even before it was bidden. Whatever the truth of the matter, they relied on each other a hundred per cent.
    On the day of Bingo’s capture, and not many hours after that event, Inspector Sussworth sat at his desk in the house in Micklethwaite Road and doodled on a piece of paper, his face lowering in deep concentration while in front of him the vapour rose from a cup of tea: no milk, no sugar, and very strong. The inspector dressed well and his uniform was as splendid as any grenadier’s; it
was neatly pressed and its buttons shone like stars against the deep blue serge of the material. Sergeant Hanks, always servile, always unctuous, relaxed in an armchair and waited for his leader to speak.
    ‘So,’ said the inspector when he had gathered his thoughts, ‘we’ve caught a suspicious Borrible at last, but that’s only one, Hanks. This is only the beginning; we’ve got to do better, much better.’
    ‘We have indeed, sir,’ said Hanks, bobbing his head up and down several times, ‘and we will, I feel sure.’
    The inspector picked up his cup of tea between two delicate fingers and sipped. The beverage was exactly how he liked it and he smiled. He had a strange thin face, made stranger by this smile, and in the face every feature took the wrong direction. His chin, which was sharp, did not go the way it should have gone. His nose bent itself in the middle and tried to aim the end sideways, while his ears threw