CrimeWatch (Part Two)

'Did you see what I saw?'

It was Danny, stood at his little desk by the front doors, with a smug yet worried smile on his face.

'I'm sorry?'

'The man. By the watches.'

'What?' I creased my face up and moved away from him.

'I saw it too. If he doesn't pay for that, we are having him.'

We? I'm not getting involved. I can't get involved. He's my neighbour. If he finds out I helped catch him, that's it. Home life will be hell. He's still got our stepladder that he borrowed off us, we'll never see that again.

'I don't know who you're talking about?'

'Yes you do.'

It's really shit when idiots get the better of you. I moved over to his desk.

'OK, but you should know something about him.'

'What?' Danny moved his head back. 'Is he dangerous?'

'God no.'

Yesterday he was out in the garden teaching his cousin how to skip. Hardy a dangerous man.

'I know him.' I said quietly.

'Brilliant. That will help us when the police arrive.'

'What? No. Not the police!'

'Yeah, they'll want his address. If he doesn't give it to us...'

'No, Danny. I can't be a part of this.'

'You don't have to. All you have to do is be a witness.'

That sounds like being a part of it.

'What? A witness? Why?'

'Well, I only caught a bit of it of camera. I need a witness for back up.'

I'm not a witness. I'm certainly not a back up. 'Back up' sounds like it requires skills and effort. Two things I can't pull off whilst trying to get my neighbour arrested. But sure enough, Jake was stopped at the door by Danny and a few managers. He was made to handover the watch and escorted to the security office. He said they where a little short on cash after their daughter was born, and needed a few Christmas presents. I got a call from Danny an hour later.

'Dylan. Can you come to my office please.'

It wasn't his office. He just used it like all the other colleagues who did his job.

'Why?'

There was a slight pause. Danny had to choose his words carefully in front of Jake.

'I need you to come and fill in a few details.'

'Can't I do it here...on the phone?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'You just can't.'

'I'm a bit busy, Danny.'

I wasn't. The car park was empty. I really didn't want to go and finish Jake off. Why can't people do it over the phone? The courts would be done a lot faster. Or even with text messages! 'WE FND THE DFENDENT NT GUILTY.' You'll be out by lunch and the guilty man wouldn't get to see you. You'd be safe.

I opened the heavy office door slightly and put my hand through the door.

'Can I have the details, please?' I asked, in a slightly lower voice.

'Come in. Take a seat, Dylan.'

I cleared my throat and tried again, hiding my face with the door and waving my hand about.

'The details. I'll fill them in out here.'

'Why?' Danny asked.

'I've told you, I'm busy!'

My lower voice disappeared when I said that. I was getting annoyed at Danny. He knew I knew Jake, but he still wouldn't give me the details.

'Just come in and sit down. It's not just something to fill in. We need you to tell us it was him.'

'Yes, It was.'

'You've not seen him yet.'

'I can just tell.'

I heard Danny get up and yank the door open, revealing my sweating face behind it. Jake was sat on a chair in the corner, looking up at me.

'Dylan! I didn't know you worked here!'

He smiled as he spoke, as if we'd just bumped into each other on the milk aisle. There was no need for hours of wondering who I was and avoiding me, he knew who I was straight away.

'Hiya! You all right?'

Of course he wasn't all right. He was ten minutes away from a pair of handcuffs on him.

'Yeah, I've been better.'

'Dylan. Is this the man who you saw with the watch?'

'Yes. No.'

'What?'

'Yes and no.' I said quickly.

'Yes and no?' Danny asked.

'Yes. Yes and no. Yes I saw him with it. But no...I didn't see...you know...'

Danny looked annoyed. Jake looked confused. I felt both.

'You...didn't see him put the watch in his pocket?'

'No.'

'Well it was in his pocket when he chose to leave without paying.' Danny folded his arms.

'I've told you, I'm sorry.' Jake said sincerely.

'He is sorry.' I said.

Suddenly I was sticking up for him. I didn't want to be involved and now I was the defendants lawyer. I don't get paid enough for this.

'All we need from you is to confirm he put it in his pocket. Then we have a witness.'

'OK, but under one condition.' I sat down.

'We won't tell anyone in store, you'll be completely anonymous.'

'No...'

'You won't have to go to court.'

'No...'

'Just a quick chat to the police.'

'Not that...'

I looked at Jake.

'Can I have my stepladder back before you go to prison?'

CrimeWatch (Part One)

I can honestly say I've never stolen anything in my life. Apart from when I was 13 in the local paper shop. It wasn't a ram-raid or anything, at that age I couldn't plan something of that scale. I put twelve sweets into my 10p mix. After a few weeks I realised the old woman behind the counter wasn't counting what I put in. You know what happens, one thing leads to another. Ten becomes eleven, eleven becomes twelve, and I got away with it, too. That's the main reason why people keep doing it, the fact that they get away with it. But I stopped early. I got home that day, feeling a bit sick from the sugar and swore I wouldn't steal again. Probably because I choked on the last one. Bloody cola bottles.

It was yet another Bullshit Wednesday with Steve. Since he and Mary started going out with other, the bullshit had reduced quite a bit. I guess he had other things on his mind. Mary normally works today, but last week one of her opponents, Death Beth, if you're asking, broke her arm jumping off the ropes. The manager was furious, and ordered a week long course in Wrestling Safety. A little bit of a contradiction, in my opinion. If you want to be safe, don't wrestle.

 So it was just me and Steve today, and to stop him banging on about Mary or those little figureens he paints, I started a conversation of my own.

 'I watched Forrest Gump last night.'
'Great film.'
'Yeah.' I nodded.

 I wanted to talk about 'The Great Films' of our time, but Steve soon sabotaged it.

'You don't get many slow fellas in films, do you?'
'What?'
'Disabled people.'
'Of course you do.'
'Go on then, smart arse. Name some!' Steve ordered.
'You mean disabled people....in films?'
'Yeah.'
'I don't know, erm...Rain Man. He was autistic.'
'Never seen it.'
'The Elephant Man.'
'Yeah, that is a disability.'

I was struggling now. I knew there were loads more, but when you're put on the spot, it's difficult. God knows how Glen the Greeter did it on The Weakest Link, he came third. Thinking back, I could have said the big lad in The Green Mile, the bad guy in The Usual Suspects or Dr Evil, if a scar on your face counted. But I had a bit of a lapse in thought and went for something else.

 'Dumbo?'

Steve burst out laughing, which I predicted.

'What? He had a disability, didn't he?' I defended myself.
'By having big ears?'
'Yeah!'
'Joan from the bakery department has big ears, I'm not sure she counts it as a disability!'


I suppose  he was right. The checkout team asked us to get them some more bags from the warehouse, something that Steve loves to do, as he can skive without many people noticing him. We walked through the store, past the customer services desk and along the aisle full of Christmas stuff. On our left stood the jewellery stand, where a few people milled about looking at earrings and shiny gold bracelets. I noticed a face I recognised by the watches. It happens a lot at work, you see someone you know and because it's out of context, in a different place, you automatically can't place them. You spend the whole day thinking of their name and hope you don't bump into them. I soon remembered it was Jake, the man who lives next door to me. The half of a young couple who had just had a baby girl. They'd only been living beside me about around six months, he seemed a nice lad. A couple of years older than me, with a stylish overgrown beard and expensive jeans on.

 Whilst we passed him, I noticed the watch he was holding slip into his jacket pocket. Me and Steve were walking quite fast, but I'm sure I saw it. I stopped and stepped back a few paces, slowly peering over to where he was stood. There was a bulge in his pocket, like a box was stuck in it, proof of what he had done. I didn't want to believe it at first. I watched him look around the store, biting his top lip with his eyes slightly widened.

'Dylan.'
'Hang on.' I said to Steve, my eyes still on Jake.
'What are you looking at?'

 I couldn't tell Steve what I saw. If I didn't want to believe it myself, I couldn't make others believe too.

 'Nothing. Thought I saw someone I knew.'

We walked on to the warehouse. Steve chatted to one of the warehouse staff about new film that's not been released yet, whilst perched on a bit of racking along the warehouse walls. I grabbed the box of bags and headed back. It was theft, at least it was going to be, when he decides to walk out of the store without paying. I walked along the same ailse again to check if he was still there. Now he was a few yards away, fingering a knitted jumper that was hung up in front of him. He still looked nervous, looking from side to side and sweating slightly. I couldn't tell anyone. We were neighbours. Neighbours are important, they even made a TV show about them. I don't think they'd make a TV about something that wasn't important, no one would watch it.

I could just forget about it. I'm sure lots of things happen in supermarkets that are not seen or forgotten about. Yeah, I could just have a quick word with him in the morning. Over the garden fence with cup of tea. I'd give him advice and tell him that you could have been caught. Maybe we become good friends afterwards and he would tell me where he gets his nice shoes from. And out of a really bad thing, a really good thing blossoms. The friendship of two neighbours. I can see it now.

 'Did you see what I saw?' Danny asked, staring up at me from his security desk.

Oh no. I can't see it any more.



End of part one.

Law Of The Worlds

'What do you think?'

Alex was stood in front of me, a huge smile stitched to his face, with a shirt and tie on.

'Nice. Very nice.'

I was being genuine. I know sometimes I can get sarcastic, especially with people I work with. It's to make me feel better about working outside. The only thing that makes it worse is when they don't realise I'm being sarcastic, even when I'm at my most sarcastic. I think I get it from my Dad. He was sarcastic with me from a very early age, so it was engrained in me and made to appreciate it. Some father's pass on the rules of chess or their old vinyl collection, I got sarcasm. And no doubt I'll be passing it on to my son, and the rules of when and when not to do it. Funerals, in church and job interviews being the top three. The rules also apply to farting.

Alex was in a shirt and tie and was due to be in court in an hour, to support his brother Duncan. Alex didn't tell me that much about why his twin may go to prison, mainly because Alex didn't know enough, but it was something to do with robbing a car. I always knew Duncan would go to prison somewhere down the line, he just had that look. Maybe for drugs or punching someone for having a better X-BOX game, but robbing a car was hard to believe. Simply because he couldn't drive. Probably why he got caught. It would be hard to drive off in a stolen ford focus when you can't catch it on the bite.

'I bought the tie from here. It looks good doesn't it?'
'Yeah, you look snazzy.'

Do people say snazzy any more?

'Really smart, mate.'

Smart, that's better.

'Brilliant. Just going to get some dinner before I go.'
'OK, mate.'

Alex trotted off in store and I got back to my row of trolleys. It was a cold day, and when I say cold, I mean cold. The mist was low and ice was on the ground, enough ice for me to walk slowly, with my hands out to balance myself. Isn't it odd how a bit of ice can make you look like a complete tit? It's like when people walk on a pebbled beach with no shoes on. It doesn't matter how cool you are, you look stupid.

I pushed my row of trolleys up, but as I did, a woman shut the boot of her car and got in it, leaving the trolley beside it. It really pisses me off when people do that, so much so that it made me say 'Oh, for fucks sake.' Out loud, as well. I realised I said it out loud when a girl behind me made a noise of disapproval and scooted over to me.

'Excuse me? What was that?'

I knew what is was, did she want me to repeat it? If she was so offended, she probably didn't want me to repeat it.

'Sorry?'
'Is that the right kind of language to be using? On a public car park? Whilst at work?'

She was right. Three questions I couldn't get out of.

'No.' I hung my head low. 'I'm sorry.'

She was a small woman of about thirty, with a long winter coat on and straight dark hair and harsh, sharp features on her face.

'Can I speak to your manager, please?'
'Yeah, sure. Has someone damaged your car?' I asked, looking for her car.
'No. I wish to speak to someone about your language.'

I felt stupid. I know people are offended by bad language, but was it really enough to talk to Darren about it? Darren wasn't in today. Oh, no. Not Sharon. Surely not.

'Oh, yes. OK.'

I led the woman up to the store, like a school child on his way to the headmaster's office. It's hard to walk like a guilty man when there's ice on the ground. You look more like a tightrope walker than anyone else. As we reached the foyer, the warm air hit us like a sledgehammer, making me take off my hat and gloves. We walked past Glen the greeter and by the checkouts. It was then that I did something stupid and genius at the same time. I saw Alex by the customer cafe, chatting away to the girl behind the counter. I wandered over to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

'Alex?'

He turned around and smiled at me.

'All right, mate?'

I winked at him, which felt odd, and shot at quick look to the girl beside me.

'This customer would like to speak to you.'
'OK.' He shrugged.
'She wants to speak to a manager.'

I said 'a manager' with wide eyes, gleaming at him to take the hint.

'OK.'

I wasn't sure if he got the hint or not. He just shrugged again and bit into his bacon butty.

'Are you on your break?' The woman asked Alex.
'Yes.' I said quickly. 'But I'm sure he's got time to speak to you. It's quite important.'
'OK.' Alex said again with another shrug.
'Your colleague here used offensive language.' She said bluntly. 'On the car park as well, what if a child heard it?'
'What was the offensive language?' 
'I'm sorry?' The woman tilted her head.
'The words? What was the words he used?'
'It was only one offensive word.' I said.

Alex pushed out his lips and moved his head from side to side. I still wasn't sure if he was sure what I was trying to do. But he was in a shirt and tie, enough to make him look like a manager around here. The woman seemed to be believing it, the trouble was getting Alex to know what he was doing.

'But it was bad, Alex. I'm sorry.'
'OK.' 
'And I'm sorry to you.' I turned to the woman.
'Apology accepted. Let's not have it happen again.' She pointed at me.

This was brilliant. I was off the hook. I don't know why I doubted doing it in the first place. I do know, it was the fear of getting caught. And this wasn't an American sit-com, it was real-life. And we did get caught. That's why ten minutes later, the three of us were in Sharon's office.

'So, what's all this about?' Sharon snarled as she sat down with one of her long cigarettes.
'These two tricked me.' The woman sat down first. 'This one pretended to be a manager.'
'Did I?' Alex asked.

Now I know if Alex knew what he was doing. Of course he didn't. All he said was 'OK'. Manager's can't do that, they'd be fired on the spot. They probably wouldn't even have got the job, thinking about it.

'Yes. I asked to speak to a manager and this one brought me to him.' She pointed at me.
'And you believed he was a manager?' Sharon asked.
'He's dressed like it.' The woman shrugged.

See, I told you.

'Hang on. Hang on.' Sharon put her elbows on her table and dragged her hair back with her fingers. 'Dylan, you told her that he was a manager?' 
'I might have.' 
'You did.' The woman looked up at me.
'Sorry, what's your name?' Sharon asked.
'Julia.'
'Julia, I'm sorry about the mix up.'
It wasn't a mix up. It was deception.'
'OK. That's sorted.' Sharon cleared her throat and smiled.

There was a pause as we all looked at each other.

'Can I get off now?' Alex pointed to the door. 'I've got to be in court in twenty minutes.'
'Why? What have you done?' Sharon asked.
'Nothing.'
'Sorry, this isn't finished. I want these two to be disciplined?'
'Why? Because of the deception?'
'Yes, and for swearing.'
'What swearing?' Sharon asked.

Sharon hadn't been told that yet. I was getting a headache and I think everyone else felt the same.

'He swore.' Julie pointed at me.
'At you?'
'No. But I heard it.'
'Right.'

Sharon knew she had to punish us both, but was a little confused as to when, how and at what degree. She leant back, waiting for Julia to leave in the knowledge that Alex and I would get shouted at today. But she stayed bolted to the chair.

'Dylan. Don't swear. Alex. Don't...he does look like a manager, though, doesn't he?' Sharon narrowed her eyes.
'I've got to be in court. I bought the tie here, do you like it?' Alex smiled.
'I'm sorry? Can we can back to the point?'
'What are you in court for?' Sharon asked Alex.
'Oh, for fuck's sake!' Julia stood up violently.

There was a short pause after the three us flinched at Julia's reaction. Sharon was the first to speak.

'I don't think that kind of language is appropriate.'

Julie was thrown out of the store for abusive language. It's a good job too, Sharon was too confused to shout at people today.

Mary Christmas

'And the winner is...'

Glen had his hand over a bright green bucket, surrounded by a full canteen. It was the first of December, the day in our house that celebrates the beginning of Christmas. For some it's the day after bonfire night, for most it's when they first see the coca-cola adverts on TV. But like our house, the store decided to put up their tree today, and Glen was poised to announce the person who gets to switch on the christmas tree lights. 'Winner' is a rather grandiose term, in my opinion. But you wouldn't believe how many middle aged checkout women popped their name into the bucket, maybe it was all that kept them going, that and Come Dine With Me later that evening.

'Mary Walton!'

The room mumbled and whispered to each other for a few seconds, a few of us panned the room to find her. Some couldn't put a face to the name, most only know Mary as 'that big Goth girl.' I'd be offended for her, but that's how she introduces herself to people. It turned out Mary wasn't in until later that day, which was a little bit of a let down amongst the colleagues. They all got out of their seats and wandered off, whilst Alex informed Glen of Mary's absence.

'Righto, I'll tell Sharon.' Glen nodded.

Sandra was soon over to Glen, complaining in her high pitched voice about giving the prize to another colleague. I'd love to see that at the Oscars: 'George Clooney couldn't attend this evening, so we'll give the Best Actor award to someone else, congratulations...' Mary was due to be in soon, but Alex was a bit confused.

'Isn't it a bit weird, having Mary turning on the lights?'
'Why?'
'I thought Goth's hated Christmas.'

I've no idea where he got that from. I'm not sure they hate it, that's a strong word for Christmas. Goth's might be in cults or listen to industrial death metal music, but I bet they still get knitted socks off their Grandma on Christmas day, even if they are black ones.

'I'm not sure they hate it, but some are most probably atheists. So Christmas may seem a bit annoying.'

We all find it annoying at times, simply because there's always little fights and squabbles on Christmas Day. It's the build up and excitement stirring within you, it's bound to come out in a negative way at some part of the day. I remember my brother stormed off half way through the Queen's speech, we didn't see him until new years eve. Quite frankly, if no-one storms off, Christmas hasn't arrived.

I was still explaining things to Alex an hour later, stood in the foyer with a few colleagues, standing in front on Sharon and the massive Christmas tree, waiting to be lit. At the back, a few customers chatted away to charity workers in big winter coats, the distant tones of a brass band in the background, playing Christmas carols. To my left stood Steve and Mary, peering to the front.

'What are you doing over there?' I mouthed.
'What?' Mary mouthed back.

I repeated the same question, but she still couldn't understand me. I could have spoken aloud but people never do in those situations, I'd hate to break tradition. Sharon interrupted our silent conversation, clapping her hands together and shuffling them about.

'OK, thank you for attending this special occasion. Here to turn on the Christmas light...Sandra!'

The room clapped, apart from me and Alex.

'What's going on?' I asked.
'Yeah, why is she doing it?'

Before I got a chance to ask Sharon, the crowd clapped again, this time twice as loud, in reaction to Sandra's switch on, making the lights on the tree twinkle. As the crowd dissolved, Mary and Steve were soon over.

'What were you trying to say?' Mary asked me.
'Why weren't you doing it?'
'Doing what?'
'Turning on the lights?' I said.
'Yeah, didn't you know you won?' Alex asked.
'No, I've only just turned up.'

It turned out that Sandra and Sharon had a little chat earlier that day. They both agreed that Mary's 'look' wasn't suitable for such an occasion, and Sandra suggested that she would be more suited. As soon as Steve drew this out of Sharon, he was down into the foyer, gathering customers and colleagues around him.

'Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen...'

Mary did her best to stop him, but he was adamant on stating his opinions.

'There are some people in this world, who see people in different ways. And when they see people in those ways, they treat them differently...than other ways.'

I'll be honest, Steve wasn't the best public speaker. But he spoke quite slowly, which gave him an air of authority. You try it at home, it will work a treat.


'My girlfriend. There she is...' Steve held out his arm in Mary's direction. 'Funny, wise, strong, a good wrestler....'

The last one made the crowd mumble to each other, I would have left that one out.

'And the most beautiful woman I've ever met. She deserves to do what she wants. And if she wants to turn on these Christmas light, then she will.'

Steve ushered Mary over to the tree, clicked off the switch on the plug and made the lights flick off.

'Mary. Knock yourself out.' He winked.

Mary crouched by the tree and flicked the switch back on, but nothing happened. She waited a second, then tried again, but none of the lights illuminated.


'Oh, hang on, love.'

Steve popped on his glasses and stared into the plug.

'Must have shorted it or something.'
'I didn't short it, Steve!' 
'I know...'
'Don't blame me!'
'I'm not...You always had a clumsy nature.'

Steve started to get a bit impatient, flicking the switch faster and harder every time, the last one giving him a rather large electric shock.

'Ah, bastard!'

The crowd started to walk away slowly. Well you would, if all you watched for two minutes was to two people glaring into a plug on the wall. Hardly compelling viewing. Sharon noticed the crowd in the foyer and rushed over.

'Steve, what are you doing?'
'Sharon!' Steve jumped up. 'You missed my speech.'
'Your speech?'
'Yeah, about people being able to do what they want.'
'You can't do that. And why aren't the tree lights on?'
'I think someone shorted the fuse.' Steve glanced at Mary.
'No, I didn't!' Mary nudged Steve in the ribs.
'A bit clumsy.' He rolled his eyes.

Mary gave Steve another nudge in the ribs, which was more like a punch with her elbow, and stormed off.


Christmas is here!