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   She told the police she wanted to make a phone call and tried to ring

   her family solicitor, but without luck. He had been to a funeral and

   wake and could not be roused. When she reached for the phone a second

   time, one of the officers began lecturing her about making more phone

   calls.

  

   `You be quiet,' she said pointing her finger at the officer. Then she

   made another unfruitful call.

   

   Prime Suspect's mother looked at the police officers, sizing them up.

   This was her home. She would show the police to her son's room, as

   they requested, but she was not going to allow them to take over the

   whole house. As she tartly instructed the police where they could and

   could not go, she thought, I'm not standing for any nonsense from you

   boys.

  

   `Where's your son?' one officer asked her.

  

   `At a party.'

  

   `What is the address?'

  

   She eyed him warily. She did not like these officers at all. However,

   they would no doubt wait until her son returned anyway, so she handed

   over the address.

  

   While the police swarmed though Prime Suspect's room, gathering his

   papers, computer, modem and other belongings, his mother waited in his

   doorway where she could keep an eye on them.

  

   Someone knocked at the door. An AFP officer and Prime Suspect's mother

   both went to answer it.

  

   It was the police--the state police.

  

   The next-door neighbours had heard a commotion. When they looked out

   of their window they saw a group of strange men in street clothes

   brazenly taking things from the widow's home as if they owned the

   place. So the neighbours did what any responsible person would in the

   circumstances. They called the police.

  

   The AFP officers sent the Victoria Police on their way. Then some of

   them set off in a plain car for the Vermont party. Wanting to save

   Prime Suspect some embarrassment in front of his friends, his mother

   rang him at the party and suggested he wait outside for the AFP.

  

   As soon as Prime Suspect hung up the phone he tried to shake off the

   effect of a vast quantity of alcohol. When the police pulled up

   outside, the party was in full swing. Prime Suspect was very drunk,

   but he seemed to sober up quite well when the AFP officers introduced

   themselves and packed him into the car.

  

   `So,' said one of the officers as they headed toward his home, `what

   are you more worried about? What's on your disks or what's in your

   desk drawer?'

  

   Prime Suspect thought hard. What was in his desk drawer? Oh shit! The

   dope. He didn't smoke much, just occasionally for fun, but he had a

   tiny amount of marijuana left over from a party.