‘From the little I’ve heard of the suspect, he doesn’t fit the “these people” category. I’ll take what we’ve discussed on board in our investigation . . .’
Blackett cut in. ‘Discreetly, Mr McGuire, yes? After all, I haven’t really told you anything.’
‘I said that I would take it on board, not “we”. If I need to brief the senior investigating officer on Gates’s status, I will, but it’ll be for his ears only . . . although frankly my officers are intelligent and will have guessed what the score is.
‘Make no mistake, we do need to speak to Gates as soon as you can make it happen, even though he does have the best alibi I’ve come across in my entire police career.’
‘I’ll take that to the admiral,’ the captain promised. ‘There are channels.’ He paused. ‘The mother,’ he ventured. ‘You didn’t say how she is.’
‘The last I heard,’ McGuire replied, ‘we may be able to speak to Gates before we can talk to her . . . if we ever can.’
Eighteen
‘It’s a bonus, Sarge, isn’t it?’ Jackie Wright said. ‘Jagger and Drizzle working in the same place?’
‘That’s assuming that they haven’t been taking the piss out of their probation officer,’ Haddock replied. ‘He didn’t seem too familiar with them when I spoke to him.’
‘What were they done for? Did he tell you?’
‘They’ve both got records of petty theft, but most recently it was shoplifting in Primark, Debenhams and Topman. Apparently they were pretty good at it; they were never caught in the act in the stores, only identified on CCTV after the event.’
The DC frowned. ‘If they got out of the shops with the stuff,’ she wondered aloud, ‘how were they caught?’
‘The silly buggers decided to sell it on a market stall in Dalkeith. Strangers stick out like the proverbial in places like that and attract the attention of Trading Standards. They were nicked on day two. They tried to say they’d bought the gear in good faith themselves, but that’s where the in-store cameras came into play.’
‘They were lucky they got off so lightly.’
The DS nodded. ‘They were, since they were on probation already for previous offences, but they must have had a good lawyer. He persuaded the sheriff that they were saveable and that a mix of fine, community service and extended probation would be a better deal for society than housing and feeding them for six months.’
‘They’re probably nicking burgers now,’ Wright chuckled, as they walked into the fast food outlet in St John’s Road.
Haddock stopped just inside the doorway, and looked around. The takeaway menu was displayed above the service counter, and its varied aromas pervaded the premises.
There were two people in the process of being served, but only one attendant, a tall young man in a striped uniform bearing the chain logo, and a peaked brown cap from which a few strands of hair protruded. There was a wide hatch behind him, through which the two detectives could see other people working.
‘That’s a double cheeseburger with Mexican salsa,’ he announced to the first customer, handing over a square polystyrene box. He looked across at the two newcomers, his wide, slightly sensuous mouth open in a smile. ‘Hey, they’re stormin’ the place now,’ he called out. ‘Corstorphine must be starvin’. And you, Alicia, you’re the hauf-pound venison wi’ piccalilli, and fries on the side, aye?’
A squat, dyed young blonde in a parka nodded. ‘What is venison onyway?’
‘Bambi; ye’re eating fuckin’ Bambi.’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘That’s gross; poor wee soul. Comes tae us all, though. And a cannae Coke, Jagger,’ she added. ‘Dinna forget the Coke.’
‘How could Ah, hen? It’s the same order every day: speciality burger and a cannae Coke. Dae ye no fancy a wee bit of variety in yer life?’
‘Such as?’
‘Ah dinna ken.’ He winked. ‘How about a hot sausage roll?’
‘In yer dreams, ya cheeky bastard,’ the girl chuckled, as she took her order. ‘See ye ramorra.’
‘In ma fuckin’ nightmares,’ the attendant murmured as she left. ‘Now, folks,’ he exclaimed, as he turned to face the two detectives. ‘Which of our delights would youse like? How can I help youse?’
‘By finding somewhere quiet where we can talk?’ Haddock replied, showing his warrant card. ‘That’s who I am, Mr Smith, and this is DC Wright. We need to ask you about a friend of yours, Dean Francey.’
‘How dae ye ken my name?’ the man asked, perplexed.
‘Let’s just say you fit the description we were given, Jagger. How about your pal