The Last Breath Of Reggie Warrington

Chapter 13: Mr Chameleon

"Chloe? Chloe? Answer the lady, Chloe?" My mum's voice awoke me from my shocked trance. I sat there like a lemon, just staring at the police officers. Their words spinning and spinning around and around in my head. He was stabbed... someone stabbed Reggie... someone murdered my friend!

I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it, but the way he behaved that night, I'd be more surprised if someone had proposed marriage to him instead of doing him in.

Do him in. I thought Reggie was one of the most popular boys in the small, but strong LGBTQ community at Forest Green Community Academy. They were like a political party or servants at the court of King Reg-Bae. He and his followers made petition the school to let same-sex couples take part in Strictly Forest Green, the school's ballroom dancing competition which was due to take place in a few weeks time. He was our class representative for the school council and was like a social chameleon.

But although Reg was a much admired member of the school, he had enemies. I'd heard a rumour that Craig Bloomfield had accused Reg of vote rigging, bribery and election fraud. Apparently he'd fixed the vote so he won, by giving everyone who votes for him a £5 note. I didn't know if that was true, and didn't really care if it was or not. I didn't really know Craig, but he couldn't have killed Reggie over that? Could he?

"Do you know anyone who might hold any grudges against Reggie?" The police woman asked. I felt sick to my stomach. The last place I wanted to be was in that room for any moment longer than I had to. I wanted to go home and show two fingers to everyone else. To hell with the lot of them, but sadly I couldn't. I was sat in a cold interview room and to make matters worse, I thought one of the officers had dropped one. Old curried fart smell seeped out from someone's trousers and quickly filled the room.

I had to think long and hard about the question I had just been asked, not that I couldn't name people who Reggie had fallen out with, but ones who hated him as much as to kill him or do him any harm.
"There's a lad in my class, Craig Bloomfield, he said Reggie cheated at the school councillor elections."

Ok, I didn't really know what happened between them, what I knew was only hearsay, school gossip, something that should have been ignored and not taken seriously. The truth was that Reggie hurled so much verbal diarrhoea around, the chances were anyone I named could, quite possibly have received some from him. Craig was just one of them.

"Sandy West." I said, "Reggie wrote a nasty poem about her once."

I watched as the officer took down the names as I spoke. Describing the poem Reggie wrote about her as nasty, wasn't really the right word. I mean it was a suitable word,but it was way, way more than nasty. Spiteful, evil, down right rude, and yes, nasty, but to be entirely honest, he was vile to most people. Most people appear from Ethan, I might add. I heard he kept a book of poems under his pillow and every night, would add to it. But what he did to her, Sandy West, was disgusting and degrading.

Reggie wrote a poem about her and recited it as part of his dummy ventriloquist act at the year 8 talent show, a few years ago. His puppet, General Dickie-Doo-Daah, the creepiest freak I'd ever seen in my life. With every time the thing opened it's mouth out the poetry would come.

Sandy West in her old string vest, legs as hairy as Andy. Her nose so long, and butt does pong, but makes no one want to get randy.

See what I mean? You'd think reciting that in a packed school hall would at least be a bad mark against his name. His mother explained to the headteacher, that his father had just left the family home and poetry was something Reggie loved. She also happened to add that Sarah West was the name his younger sister, Jae-Jae-Boo-Bear had given to her latest doll.

Absolutely nothing to do with the poor, sobbing 13 year old girl in the front row. No one dared to go against Mindee Warrington, or Mad Mindee as others often called her, so the whole thing was dropped.

I'd named two people who hated Reg, but I couldn't remember seeing either at the party. I felt I'd done all I could, said what needed to be said.

"Thank you for this information Chloe, we'll let you know if we need anymore information from you. You may go now."

Before we left, I quickly signed to say that I had given my statement in which was now a murder investigation. Mum picked up her bag and we left through the same double doors, into the reception. The room didn't smells as bad as it did when we arrived and I could help noticing that the tramp had finally gone.

We walked outside, a fresh cold breeze blew in my face and I breathed in the freshness.
"Chloe, I've just got to nip to the post box and post a letter, you'll be alright here for a minute?"

"Yeah I'll be fine." I replied and watched as Mum left the car park on foot. Not knowing how long she'd be, I climbed into the passenger seat and sat with my own thoughts for a moment, peace at last, but knowing my luck it wasn't going to last and I was right.

"Brain!" A drunken twat slurred as he stumbled across the car park. As I took another look I realised it was the same tramp that was in the station earlier. I neither knew, or cared who he was, but couldn't help watch out of curiosity, what was going on. Obviously he was far too pissed to realise he was being watched. Another man, who I assumed must have been Brian, stood up from a bench and walked towards him. He wore an old string vest and what appeared to be a pair of absolutely disgusting looking boxer shorts.

The shouting, swearing and language they used was something you'd expect to hear after hours outside a cheap pub,or a row outside a the dole office. I tried not to take any notice of them, they were just a couple of drunken pillocks, scum of the earth. One even had a dirty cigarette falling from his mouth, ash so long it dropped onto his open, threadbare shirt. It wasn't until the conversation became louder, more lairy, that I began to listen, and it wasn't until I heard a name I once knew, that I finally paid attention.

"Yeah mate, that Warrington kid, tho old filth think 'e bumped him off."

Warrington? As in Reggie Warrington?! They didn't know who killed him did they? They couldn't! Not even the police knew who did it, so how on Earth could a couple of down-and-outs, two stinking hobo's?

"Really Bri? Can't believe Lil' Willy would do such a thing. More your Col's stuff, eh, Bri?"

Brian, who I assumed was the fat bald one in the boxer shorts, scratched his unmentionables as if he had lice, before they both, drunkenly, attempted to stagger away.

The next thing I knew, Mum opened the car door and climbed into the drivers seat. I took one look at her, her face, ashen as if something really, really bad had happened. I wanted to tell her what I'd heard, about the tramps and about Reggie. But this was a bad moment. A terrible moment. I had the horrible feeling that someone had died and all I thought was how could Derek be so stupid?!