‘Aye, he’s here,’ Jagger confirmed. ‘But we’re workin’. We cannae just leave.’
An unnoticed door in the brightly coloured wall behind the counter opened and a second man appeared. ‘What’s up here?’ he demanded. ‘I’m Bert Stewart, the manager.’
‘CID,’ the DS told him. ‘We need a word with Messrs Smith and Harbison.’
‘What? Now, like? Can it no’ wait till they finish their shifts?’
‘No.’
‘Are they in bother?’
‘Not as far as I know,’ Haddock said, amiably. ‘We hope they might be able to help us with our inquiries. Fifteen minutes max, and they’ll be back on duty . . .’ he smiled, ‘unless they’ve confessed, of course.’
‘All right,’ the manager conceded. ‘Use my office. It’s the wee room in the corridor behind the kitchen; the one on the left, the other’s the lav. Take him through, Michael, and collect your mate on the way. Tell Coleen I’ll man the counter.’
Jagger lifted a flap in the counter to allow the two officers access, then led them into the kitchen, where two young people stood, one male, one female, each wearing a grease-spattered apron. ‘Drizzle,’ he said to the man, ‘these police want tae talk tae us about Dino.’
‘That’s very interesting, Jagger,’ Jackie Wright began, as soon as the office door had closed behind them. ‘When we mentioned Francey outside, your first question was how we knew your name. I’d been expecting you to ask what Dino was supposed to have done. Does that mean you know?’
Michael Smith nodded. ‘Aye. It’s that fuckin’ fish, right?’
‘And what fuckin’ fish would that be?’ she asked.
‘The dozen monster halibut that he’s got in ma granny’s freezer, waiting to be thawed out and flogged on tae a Chinese restaurant in Broxburn. Buggrit, Ah kent they werenae kosher.’
‘Halibut are kosher, as I recall,’ Haddock remarked. ‘I visited a Jewish restaurant in Glasgow last year and I’m sure there was halibut on the menu.’
Jagger stared at him. ‘Eh?’
‘Never mind,’ the DS said. ‘As it happens, we’re not interested in your granny’s freezer. If I were you I’d advise her to donate them to the Edinburgh food bank.’
‘Then what is this about?’ Calm eyes stared at the detectives from beneath knitted eyebrows and a furrowed forehead. It was the first indication that Ian ‘Drizzle’ Harbison could speak.
Haddock ignored the question. ‘When did you last see Dino, either of you?’
‘Saturday night,’ Jagger answered. ‘We met them . . . him and Singer . . . in Lacey’s, at the top o’ Leith Walk. They’d been tae the Omni tae see that Hobbit film, and we saw them there after.’
‘Lacey’s!’ Wright exclaimed. ‘Are you telling me that Dean Francey took his girlfriend to a lap-dancing club?’
The loose lips beamed. ‘She fuckin’ works there,’ he laughed. ‘We get staff rate on the cocktails. We gie her the money and she gets them in for us. The boss disnae mind; she’s his best dancer.’
‘Was she working that night?’ the DS asked.
‘Naw. Night aff.’
‘How did Dino seem?’
‘Same as usual. Edgy fucker, looking for bother.’
‘In what way?’
‘Singer.’ Drizzle’s one-word answer was emphatic.
Haddock stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He means that when she’s about, it’s always dodgy,’ Jagger explained. ‘She’s a looker, right? So she’s gonnae get looked at. And if Dino disnae fancy the way anybody looks at her . . . Well, it’s “Here we fuckin’ go”, is it no’. Of course, Singer, she kens she’s a looker and she’s maybe no’ beyond givin’ the eye tae some geezer when Dino’s got his back tae her.’
‘I get the picture,’ the DS said. ‘Yet Dino has no convictions for assault.’
Jagger smiled. ‘Naw, ’cos nothin’s gonnae happen when Drizzle’s aboot. In’t that right, Driz?’
‘Are you his bodyguard?’ Wright asked.
‘No,’ Drizzle rumbled. ‘I’m his mate.’
‘Trust me,’ Jagger told her, ‘where we go, naebody’s goin’ tae try it on wi Drizzle. That’s no tae say,’ he added, ‘that Dino cannae handle himsel’, ’cos he can. But Drizzle? Different.’
‘Where were you this morning?’ Haddock asked Harbison, abruptly.
‘He wis here,’ his friend replied. ‘Fryin’ fuckin’ bacon, fae seven thirty till nine thirty. This place dis a good breakfast trade, then we knock aff till lunchtime. Why dae ye want tae know?’
‘No special reason. When do you expect to see Dean Francey again?’
‘The morra. He’s supposed tae be comin’ here at twelve tae collect a couple o’ thae halibut. Ah’ve tae take them oot o’ ma granny’s freezer the night, ken, so they’ll be thawed for the customer and he’ll think they’re fresh.’