Tom Thumb

6-Anti-Policemen And A New Little Problem.

Hawes insisted Edmund get out two streets away from the Andromeda Club. Knowing it was the best he'd get, Edmund did as he was told, whipping out his phone and texting Tiger again.

Ur salvation is two blocks away, Tigger. Another pair of hands'll be with u in 2.

As Hawes pulled away, Edmund began his walk. He'd stopped thinking about the Andromeda issue while he'd been at Bertram's, and now he was walking towards it he wasn't entirely sure what he was letting himself in for.

Everything seemed quiet when Edmund first arrived, but as he let himself in quietly, crossing the dancefloor, a hysterical scream echoed down from upstairs. There was a bang, and some running feet. As Edmund looked to the door which led to their apartment, there was another scream, more shouting, and someone who sounded suspiciously like Bumble swearing violently at the top of his lungs. One set of footsteps were getting closer, coming down the stairs, and Edmund knew instantly whose feet they were as at least three sets of others drowned them out a second later.

Shaking his head sadly, Edmund first slid into the shadows by the door, then promptly tackled Foxy as she made a ditch attempt at escaping the flat-probably not her first attempt that morning. She started screaming again as Edmund hoisted her over his shoulder, and stood there tiredly while she wore herself out, beating him with her fists and feet flailing wildly.

"Fox, where are you going?" Edmund attempted to ask reasonably, under the angry shrieks.

"I'm going OUT! I'm not a bloody child, so I don't see why you're all treating me like one-Because I'm NOT A BLOODY CHILD AND I CAN LOOK AFTER MYSELF AND YOU'RE ALL HORRIBLE AND-"

"And you may not be a child but you're sure as hell acting like one, Francesca" Edmund cut her off calmly, using Foxy's full name, despite her being known as Frankie when she wasn't being called Foxy. "And you're not going out, because chances are we'll have to come and collect you from hospital tomorrow. I understand you're upset, but he broke up with you this time, and you can't go chasing after him like a psychopath unless you want yourself a restraining order and a criminal record-Now..."

By this time, Tink, Tiger, Bumble and, Edmund realized, Rizz, had all made it to the bottom of the stairs.

"Mundy" Bumble gasped, a little out of breath. "Good timing, man."

With Foxy now entirely defeated, and draped like a dead weight over Edmund's shoulder, the five friends shared a tired look.

"What's the plan for tonight?" Edmund asked them all.

"Rizz's on babysitter duty" Tink explained, shooting the suddenly immobile Foxy an icy glare. "Everything runs as normal, but you either need to record now or spin live tonight, Mundy."

"We'll see" Edmund sighed. "Let's get Fox upstairs again. I've got a favour I need off you guys, though. There's someone we need to find."

"That sounds ominous" Tiger smirked, as Edmund offloaded Foxy onto the bigger man and they all began their walk back upstairs.

"It is, a little" Edmund admitted. "We need to find a guy called Pierre Pouce. All we know is that he probably lives in London-"

"You want me to go though my contacts?" Bumble asked.

"Me too?" Rizz chipped in. Edmund smiled at them both.

"If possible, guys. He's French, and probably about 20."

"Is this legal?" Tink complained, as they reached the apartment door once again, and Bumble let them in, Tiger carrying a now sleeping Foxy to her room and the other four collapsing in the lounge area.

"Course it is" Edmund reassured her, a little blithely. "I reckon it comes under 'assisting police enquiry'."

"So long as nobody knows it comes under 'assisting police enquiry' that's fine by me" Bumble grumbled. "If some of our customers found out what you're making me do, Mundy..."

"Don't you start sounding like him." Tiger was back, sliding in next to Rizz on the sofa. "We've already got one policeman in the house, Bumble. Don't you start."

"He's being more of an anti-policeman, I think you'll find" Tink chipped in, not entirely sounding too impressed by that fact. "How much shit have you got going on the sly, Bumble? That you don't want the police finding out about?"

As Edmund dutifully blocked his ears with his fingers, Bumble seemed to make some sort of defensive comment. Tink laughed, and hit him with a cushion.

"What he means, chica" Rizz cut in on top of Tink, as Tiger signaled to Edmund that he could take his fingers out of his ears. "Is that you amigos have guests here at Andromeda that wouldn't appreciate their names and addresses being readily available to the police."

"Well, they're not gonna be" Edmund pointed out, sighing. "I just want you to find this Pouce guy. I'd also like you to find me some dinner, if that's not too much of an ask."

"There's a spag bol in the works" Tink retorted. "Greedy sod."

"In the works? Where?" Edmund asked innocently, only to have the pillow Tink had been holding collide with his head, a moment later.

"In my head" she admitted grumpily. "I haven't made it yet."

Bumble snorted, and Tink got up sulkily and flounced over to the kitchen.

"You lot should learn to cook" she complained, as she began to get pans and pots out of the cupboards.

"But we like your cooking, Tinkerbell" Tiger smirked, sliding his hand over Rizz's shoulders while Bumble hopped up to get his laptop.

"When it's not burned" Edmund murmured to himself. He was beginning to feel like a bit of a third wheel, as Tiger and Rizz beside him were inching closer to eating each other's faces off by the second, so Edmund decided he would go and set up a mixtape for the night.

***

Edmund's mixing room was small, barely two by four metres square, but as the entirety of the back wall was taken up with shelves and shelves of CDs of every musical genre under the Sun, and as most of the rest of the room was Edmund's mixing desk, a big, shiny black box about the size of a large lion, plastered with infinite buttons and sliders and flashing LEDs, there was hardly enough space in the little room to swing a cat. The mixing desk looked out over the dancefloor of the Andromeda Club, through some big glass windows, and Edmund was glad the house lights were up, as the single flickery bulb he had in the little room was, once again, refusing to switch on.

Edmund got down to work pretty quickly. He was good at this-he enjoyed it-and he was fast at it, too, which due to his additional job as a policeman was a massive bonus. But all the same, he wasn't even halfway through a set for the night when his phone rang loudly in his pocket. Sighing, Edmund removed his headphones and put the phone to his ear.

"Gray?"

Edmund stifled a groan.

"Yes, ma'am?" he asked plaintively.

"Can you make it to the station? We've got ourselves a little problem."

From the way Hawes had spoken, Edmund reckoned that his boss was eyeballing the 'little problem' furiously down the other end of the line.

He hung up, rolled his eyes, and got his coat.