‘Maxwell?’ the Seabird Centre manager repeated. ‘Yes, he’s here. He’s downstairs in the exhibition area. I can ask him to come up, but it’s only ten minutes to his lunch break. If you can wait that long, it would be easier all round.’
‘Yes, I can do that,’ Haddock said.
‘You can wait in the cafe if you like,’ the woman suggested. ‘The coffee’s good.’
The detective smiled. ‘Is there anywhere in North Berwick that doesn’t sell coffee?’ he asked.
‘Not too many places, that’s true. It used to be that this town had more charity shops than anything else, but now the baristas have taken over.’ She looked across the counter. ‘Why do you want to see Maxwell?’ There was the faintest hint of suspicion in her voice.
The DS plucked his reply out of thin air. ‘I’ve been talking to his uncle about a car.’ He and Pye had agreed that they would intercept the boy as quietly as possible; the DCI was waiting in the car, parked on the adjacent harbour, out of sight of the centre.
‘Oh yes,’ the manager said. ‘Mr Sullivan’s a dealer, isn’t he?’
‘That’s right. I had a question, and he told me that Maxwell would know more about it than he does. He said I’d find him here.’
Haddock moved across to a display of souvenirs. Cheeky, his partner, was a sucker for soft toys; his eye fell on a fluffy white seal cub, and he picked it up.
He had just finished paying for it when a door opened behind the counter and a young man stepped out. He was tall, slim and wore a grey hooded top.
‘Maxwell,’ the manager called out. ‘This chap wants a word, about one of your uncle’s cars.’
The boy turned towards him, with a small frown born of curiosity. ‘What would I know about . . .’ he began, as the sergeant closed the gap between them, displaying his warrant card with as much discretion as he could achieve.
‘I’m a police officer,’ he murmured. ‘I do want to talk to you about one of Mr Sullivan’s cars, one that’s been stolen, but not here.’
‘What?’ Maxwell murmured. He seemed hesitant, not sure whether to believe what he was being told.
‘I’ll explain outside. It’s all right; your boss doesn’t know I’m a cop. Play along with it and she never will.’
The boy shrugged. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘This is a wee bit hush-hush, isn’t it?’
Haddock let him lead the way outside, then directed him to the waiting car.
‘This is my boss,’ he told Maxwell, as he ushered him into the back seat, behind Pye.
‘Nice tae meet you,’ the teenager said, turning to face Haddock as he slid in and closed the door. ‘This has got fuck all to do with one of my uncle’s cars, has it?’
‘Oh it has, really.’
‘Bollocks, you’re pulling in the usual suspects, aren’t you?’
‘Is that how you see yourself, son?’ Pye asked him.
‘No, but you guys do. You were always after me in Cumbernauld, after . . .’
‘After your wee bit of bother?’
‘Aye!’ He hunched up in the car as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible. ‘They never left me alone. But when I got beat up in the school, and I did often enough, they never wanted tae know.’
‘You should have kept your cock in your pants, son, shouldn’t you?’ the DCI retorted.
‘It was a stitch-up,’ Maxwell protested.
‘You weren’t flashing? It was somebody else’s? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘No, but . . . Look, I was caught short in the park, and the toilets were locked. I was burstin’ so I had a slash against the wall of the bogs. It turned out there were three wee girls behind me, with their mothers. I never saw them, and they never saw me, until the two cops yelled at me. I turned around; I still had my thing in my hand. The two mothers started laughin’, but the polis didn’t. They arrested me, and they told the women they had to make a complaint. They said I’d done it before and that I needed to be stopped.’
‘Come on, lad,’ Haddock said, patiently. ‘You were fourteen and you did something stupid. That doesn’t make you a bad person for life, and we’re not here to dig it all up, unless you give us cause. Why would two cops fit you up, and for exposure of all things?’
‘Because my dad was their sergeant,’ the boy exclaimed, his voice rising, ‘and they fuckin’ hated him. With the women’s statements, there