*** SUN HILL POLICE STATION - 9:30 PM ***

Tommy walks into the custody area and raps on the window of the custody office to attract Bob's attention. Tommy grins across at the annoyed Sergeant as he stands up.

DS Burnside:

'Ello Bob.

Sgt. Cryer:

What can I do for you?

DS Burnside:

I'm ready to interview that rape suspect now. George Matthews, was it?

A wry smile appears on Bob's face.

Sgt. Cryer:

Greg Matthews. I didn't know you were still on the case. You should have saved yourself the trip, Viv and June took care of the interview with Mr Matthews hours ago.

DS Burnside:

They what? You mean they interviewed the suspect without me?

Tommy's face begins to turn red.

Sgt. Cryer:

They wanted to clear it up so they could get the kids sorted and all. I don't think they needed you, though. He put his hands up to it and there were no complications. Damn impressive work by Martella considering that she's only been a bona fide copper for five minutes.

DS Burnside:

I told the silly bitches to wait for me! What did they think they were playing at? I bet they've stuffed the entire case up now. Who's the idiot that decided to let women into the job in the first place?

Bob is enjoying the look of discomfort on Tommy's face.

Sgt. Cryer:

Well I take great pleasure in informing you that over the course of two interviews they managed to get him to cough for both the physical and the sexual abuse. You're most welcome to listen to the tape. I'd be surprised if there wasn't a Commendation in all of this for young Martella.

Tommy becomes furious.

DS Burnside:

What a load of crap, Bobby. You becoming a feminist all of a sudden? Next thing you know, you'll be burning your bra in the front office! All that plonks are good for is entertainment on Friday night piss-ups. Who helped them with the interview?

Sgt. Cryer:

Sorry to disappoint you but Martella and Ackland flew this one solo. They handled it very well.

DS Burnside:

Let me see him, old son. If a couple of plonks can make him crack then he must be a bit of a woman himself!

Sgt. Cryer:

If you insist.

Bob leads Tommy towards the male cells. Along the way, Tommy checks the blackboards outside the other cells.

DS Burnside:

Michaels, indecent exposure. Davidson, attempted rape. This a party for perverts or something, Bob?

Sgt. Cryer:

Better in here than out on the streets.

Bob opens the flap to Greg's cell and looks inside.

Sgt. Cryer:

Visitor for you, Mr Matthews!

Bob opens the cell door and Tommy walks in.

DS Burnside:

I thought you looked like a pansy, Matthews, but breaking down in front of a couple of women is pretty pathetic. Even for you! Can you give us a bit of space, Bob?

Bob hesitates then reluctantly complies.

Sgt. Cryer:

I'll be out in reception. Give me a shout if you need me. Either of you.

Tommy stares at Greg humourlessly until Bob is out of hearing range.

DS Burnside:

So you did do it. You raped your stepdaughter, you sick bastard.

Greg looks up at Tommy. It's obvious that he's been crying.

Greg Matthews:

Did you want something or have you just come in here to insult me?

DS Burnside:

Neither. Just wanted to try my hand at pervert-spotting.

Tommy takes a seat on the bed next to Greg.

DS Burnside:

Why'd you do it then? Were you desperate for a root?

Greg Matthews:

Look, I know the score. You can't just come in here like this!

DS Burnside:

I can do what I like, you piece of filth. If I had my way people like you wouldn't get off with jail terms. I quite like the idea of castration. The way I see it, anyone who could do that to own their stepdaughter hasn't got any balls to start with so what's it matter if they get chopped off? At least, that's what I think.

Greg Matthews:

I'm not proud of what I've done, you know. I wish it had never happened.

DS Burnside:

I bet that little girl wishes the same thing. But that doesn't excuse the fact that you did it. Gave you a bit of a thrill, did it?

Greg Matthews:

Why, are you jealous? Cute little blonde thing like that?

Greg sneers at Tommy. The Detective Sergeant leans towards Greg and speaks in a low voice.

DS Burnside:

Nah, I don't go in for twelve year olds. Only nonces like you do that. How does it feel to know that you'll be spending the rest of your miserable little life banged up on Rule forty-three, eh?

Greg looks away, unwilling to reply. Tommy grabs Greg's chin and pulls his head back.

DS Burnside:

You listen to me, you slag. You're filth, you know that? Sewerage is higher up the evolutionary scale than you!

Greg Matthews:

Get you hands off me, you pig! If you think you're so much better than me then why don't you prove it?

Greg takes a swing at Tommy but misses. Tommy grins.

DS Burnside:

You fancy your chances, do ya?

Tommy punches Greg in the stomach. He looks on with contempt as Greg collapses to the floor, winded by the blow.

DS Burnside:

You're lower than low, Matthews. The worms look down on ya!

Tommy aims a kick at Greg's head. The prisoner groans as Tommy's relentless assault continues. Bob hears the commotion and heads back to the cell.

Sgt. Cryer:

What's going on here? What the hell are you doing to him?

Bob is shocked by the scene in front of him.

DS Burnside:

We had a little disagreement. Nothing for you to worry about, Bob.

Greg picks himself up off the floor and crawls back onto his bed.

Greg Matthews:

This son of a bitch attacked me! I want something done about it.

DS Burnside:

The prisoner took a swing at me so I restrained him. You'd better forget about it, Matthews. They'll take my word over that of a nonce any day.

Sgt. Cryer:

Do you wish to make an official complaint, Mr Matthews?

DS Burnside:

Leave it, Bob. He'll think better of it after an hour or so. I can guarantee that. Unless you want to leave me alone with him so I can finish the job?

Sgt. Cryer:

You, out!

Bob points at Tommy angrily. The Detective Sergeant leaves the cell with one last smirk in Greg's direction. Bob follows Tommy out, making sure to lock the cell door behind him.

Sgt. Cryer:

Right, so what was that? What did you think you'd prove by having a go at him?

Tommy glares at Bob, none too happy at being told off.

DS Burnside:

He's scum, Bob. Don't tell me you're on his side.

Sgt. Cryer:

Don't be pathetic. But beating him to a pulp isn't going to help matters, is it? We don't have to go down to their level, you know.

Tommy scoffs.

DS Burnside:

So what are you trying to say? That psychological analysis and rehabilitation and all that other crap helps us, does it? If a good, firm beating doesn't set him straight then nothing will.

Sgt. Cryer:

You ought to know. You've had enough experience!

Bob turns on his heel and makes his way back out to reception.

DS Burnside:

At least I'm not a hacked off old sergeant pissing around in custody all day. Bloody woodentops.

Tommy walks out of the custody area with a face like a thundercloud.

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