6. BABY TALK

A very peculiar police interview

Inspector Wasp looked at his sergeant rather too sharply for the latter’s peace of mind. He’d come back onto duty to find the station in an uproar with the arrival of the extremely odd man found wandering on the park, and he liked order. Sergeant Stone had tried to explain the situation, but the Inspector had failed to grasp exactly what their new prisoner was like.

“What do you mean, he seems to be no more than a baby?” he asked, “even old men in the full grip of Alzheimer’s aren’t exactly babyish! They’ve got some connection with the real world even though it may be somewhat distant and confused. And he’s getting on, you say, but not exactly old?”

“Yes sir,” replied Sergeant Stone, “and if you don’t mind me saying it’s not like the bloke’s got advanced dementia but that his head is actually empty of everything more sophisticated than mamma and dadda! As if, maybe, he was born the way he is and not changed one iota since then.”

“You’re not making sense, Stone, that sort of thing doesn’t happen, at least not on our patch. Where is he now?”

“In interview room one,” replied the sergeant, “and sitting on the floor playing with his privates!”

“He’s what?”

“Behaving as if he’s just discovered his genitals and decided to make baby sounds in order to let everyone know. I’ve put a PC in with him, but all he does is gurgle at him.”

”And you say he’s wearing lady’s knickers? Not men’s? After all, some blokes like to please their ladies by wearing something a little risqué!”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that, sir!”

“Me neither, but I do try to keep up with the latest trends.”

“I’ll remember that then, sir.”

“Come on, Stone, I’ll take a look at him.”

The two officers made their way to the interview room where the odd man from the park had been taken by two or three officers. He hadn’t put up any real resistance, but had tended to hang back like a reluctant toddler going somewhere he didn’t particularly like when an alternative was being denied him.

Inspector Wasp entered with Stone just behind him and he stood and stared at their prisoner who was, as previously described by the sergeant, sitting on the floor and apparently mindlessly massaging his male parts as though they were brand new and strange to him.

“Goo goo goo,” he said, grinning.

“And goo to you! Get up, please!” barked Inspector Wasp in his most stentorian voice. He was noted for that voice and only resorted to it when the situation threatened to explode out of control.

“Goo...”

“And leave yourself alone! You’re not impressing anyone with this exhibition of nauseating self-abuse!” snapped the Inspector. “Come on, man, you’re no longer a child so stop behaving like one!”

“I’ve never seen any kids behaving like that,” muttered Stone.

“Quiet, man!”

But all the prisoner did in reply tgo the Inspector’s order was grin and mutter “dadda...” in an affectionately conniving voice, or that was how Wasp translated the tone he was using. The constable grinned quietly to himself. He was enjoying the situation, which was clearly well beyond his own experience of antics in police stations.

“Outside,” hissed the Inspector to his sergeant, and when they were out of earshot of the room he scowled at him. “You never mentioned the most important thing about him,” he said, “probably because you didn’t believe it was important, but believe you me, I’m sure it is.”

“The most important thing, sir?”

“The knickers or panties or call them what you will. They’re scarlet red! Just like those nearly being worn by our lady of the lake!”

“Canal, sir, lady of the canal”

“Canal, then. The man, who would happen to be a doppelganger for Professor Styx if that good academic was in his seventies, is wearing red knickers that appear to be identical in every respect to those sported by the corpse on Doctor Niven’s slab, a corpse, incidentally, who looks to be an elderly double of this man’s wife!”

“It’s very odd, sir,” ventured the sergeant, “if you want my opinion I’d say the professor has a double who’s gone bananas, and that’s just plain unfortunate, because we’ve met the real clever bloke only yesterday, and he’s hale, hearty and in his thirties or there abouts, and the bloke toying with himself in there is seventy-odd and no way clever.”

“And the woman? There just happens to be a double for the good lady Styx, only she’s older as well? Explain that if you can!”

“It’s a conundrum, and no mistake,” admitted Sergeant Stone.

“Let’s get to see if he’s stopped playing with himself and wants to talk sense, then. Leave the talking to me and just watch and listen to the man, see if you can fathom what’s going on in his mind,” ordered Wasp. “Come on, in we go and he can leave that darned organ of his alone to start with. I’ve never known anything like it and will not put up with it!”

They returned to the interview room where the constable tasked with watching the prisoner was busy trying not to blush. He stood to one side as the two senior officers sat at the table and eyed the red-pantied man gurgling on the floor.

“You can stop that any time now,” rapped the Inspector, “it might not have crossed your mind, but playing with yourself is no way to behave in an interview room where there are senior officers present. Now I beg you, pull yourself together, get on your feet and sit in this seat right here before I lose my patience and force you.”

“Dadda,” responded the elderly man, and he contrived an almost babyish smile as he eyed the two officers.

“I said get on your feet!” rapped Inspector Wasp, “this is most unbecoming! Get on your feet, I say!”

“Googlee-um,” almost laughed their prisoner, and he lay back on the floor, raised his legs in the air, and kicked with unbelievable force before giggling uncontrollably as if everything in the world was one big joke.

“What does the damn fool want,” muttered the Inspector irritably, “I can’t deal with a man as out of control as this fellow? I can’t ask him questions when all he comes out with is baby talk. Next he’ll be asking for a doll!”

The man obviously heard him because suddenly his giggling stopped. Everything about him went through an extraordinary metamorphosis. Suddenly he was on his knees and clawing the air towards the officers.

“Doll,” he said in an agonised voice, “Dolly, dolly, dolly!”

© Peter Rogerson 16.09.19