A Touch of Spice The sound of wailing sirens pierced the hot and humid air coming through the office window. It was a balmy sunny evening and I was looking forward to clearing some paperwork. Late turn on G Division meant covering the three police stations in the London Borough of Hackney up until ten pm, after all my colleagues had gone home. Any thought of a quiet evening, perhaps examining a couple of burglary scenes and enjoying a quick pint next door at the Eagle before going home, disappeared when the phone rang. It was a detective sergeant calling from the CID office at Stoke Newington. He was investigating an allegation of a racial attack on a West Indian woman. It appeared that someone had put a lighted petrol bomb through her door. He asked me to attend. It was serious so I had no hesitation. I didn’t enjoy driving through the weave of traffic as London commuters made their way home. It was only a few miles after all, but it can seem like ten times that and it would probably have been quicker to walk.
