of novelty condoms from Amsterdam. He had at least sixteen videos to preview and reviews to write for Crossdressers'
Quarterly. But he found that he could think of nothing but the questions the cops had wanted him to answer and whether he'd managed to be so convincing that they wouldn't show up in Jay-wick Sands to ask Gerry DeVitt's assistance in their enquiry.
Theo Shaw's appearance didn't suggest a man who'd slept the sleep of the guileless, Barbara thought. Shaw was carrying luggage under his eyes and these were nearly bloodshot enough to give him the look of an albino rabbit. When Dominique the Tongue-stud had announced Barbara's arrival at the pier offices for a second visit, Theo had started to say brusquely, "No way.
Tell her - " but had choked off whatever else he'd intended to communicate when he saw Barbara standing directly behind the girl.
Dominique said, "She's asking to see the time cards, Mr. Shaw, last week's time cards.
Sh'll I fetch them or what? I didn't want to do nothing till I talked to you first."
"I'll handle this," Theo Shaw said, and made no other comment until Dominique went swinging back towards reception in her orange platforrr shoes. Then he looked at Barbara, who'd enterec his office without an invitation, installing hersel in one of two rattan chairs that sat facing his desk
"Time cards?"
"In the singular," Barbara said. "Trevor Rud dock's from last week, to be specific. Have yo1 got it?"
He had. The card was with the accountin department, where the payroll was done. If th sergeant didn't mind waiting a minute . . .
Barbara didn't mind. Another opportunity t recce Theo Shaw's office was just fine by her.
Bi he seemed to read her intention, because instea of heading off to fetch the requested time cai himself, he picked up the phone, punched in thr< numbers, and asked that the card be brought them.
"I hope Trevor's not in trouble," he said.
The devil you do, Barbara thought. She sai
"Just confirming a few details." She gestured t wards the window. "The pier looks more crowded today. Business must be picking up."
"Yes."
"Good for the cause, that."
"What cause?"
"Redevelopment. Are the Asians part of it? Redevelopment, I mean."
"That's an odd question. Why do you ask?"
"I was in a place called Falak Dedar Park. It looks new. There's a fountain in the centre: a girl in Arab garb pouring water. And the name sounds Asian. So I was wondering if the Asians are involved in your redevelopment plans. Or do they have their own?"
"Anyone's free to become involved," Theo said. "The town needs investors. We don't intend to hold anyone back if they want to be part of the project."
"And if someone wants to go his own way?
Have his own project? With a different idea to yours about redevelopment? What happens then?"
"It makes more sense for Balford to accept an overall plan," Theo replied. "Otherwise, what you end up with is an architectural hotchpotch, like the south bank of the Thames.
I've lived here most of my life and, frankly, I'd rather like to avoid that happening."
Barbara nodded. His reasoning made sense.
But it also suggested yet another area in which the Asian community might be in conflict with the longtime residents of Balford-le-Nez. She left her chair and approached the redevelopment plans, which she'd noticed on the previous day.
She wanted to see how the plans affected such areas as the industrial estate where Akram Malik had obviously invested so much money in his mustard factory. But she was distracted by a town map that hung on the wall next to the blueprints and the artist's renderings of Balfordo-be.
This map indicated in which sections of the town the most money would be invested. But that wasn't what interested Barbara. Instead, she took note of the location of the Balford Marina.
It was west of the Nez at the base of the peninsula.
With advantageous tidal conditions, someone sailing from the marina up the Balford Channel into Pennyhole Bay would have easy access to the east side of the Nez, where Haytham Querashi had met his death.
She said, "You have a boat, haven't you, Mr.
Shaw? Berthed at the marina?"
His expression was guarded. "It's the family's, not mine."
"Cabin cruiser, isn't it? Do any night sailing?"
"I have done." He saw where she was heading.
"But not on Friday night."
They would see about that, Barbara thought.
Trevor's time card was delivered by an antique gentleman who looked as if he'd worked on the pier since the day it was built. He doddered intc the room, dressed