Private Investigations - Quintin Jardine Page 0,54

for sweaty middle-aged losers, don’t assume that she’s dumb.’

‘That’s right,’ Celia chipped in. ‘She makes more cash on that bloody pole than she will when she graduates and gets a proper job.’

‘The tips are that good?’

‘They are in the private booths, where special services can be offered.’

‘Are you saying Singer’s a hooker?’ Haddock exclaimed.

‘Not really, but if a punter wants a hand job, it’s fifty quid. She’s a nice girl, but she’s not a posh bird like us, with a well-heeled daddy behind her, so it’s hard for her to turn down easy money.’

‘Is that why her boyfriend caused a ruck in there one night?’

‘Dino could start a ruck in an empty house,’ Ilse volunteered. ‘He’s a creep. I don’t know why she’s so smitten by him.’

Celia smiled. ‘There is a certain rough charm about him.’

‘He’s as charming as a rabid dog,’ her flatmate declared. ‘I think that Celia puts up with him,’ she told the detectives, ‘because she has a crush on his friend.’

‘I don’t see Jagger as being in Celia’s league,’ the DCI observed.

Both young women laughed. ‘God, not him!’ Ilse hooted. ‘I mean the other one, Ian, the brooding guy that Dino’s going to call Drizzle once too often.’

‘How did they meet, Singer and Dean?’

Celia frowned. ‘I’m not sure. He just seemed to materialise, like some nasty weather.’

‘Does he ever stay over here?’

‘No, that’s not allowed; it’s a house rule. We don’t have the space here, plus the walls are like paper.’

‘So where do they go for . . . privacy?’

‘Dino’s place, I suppose. It’s out at the seaside somewhere, I believe. If she’s not on her pole . . .’

‘She isn’t,’ Haddock said.

‘Then that’s where I’d go looking for her.’

‘If they were there we’d have been told by now.’

‘I know how they met.’

Three heads turned towards Ilse Brogan.

‘Enlighten us, please,’ Pye invited her.

‘Singer’s a couple of years older than we are, yet she’s a year behind us at uni. She came to Scotland with Polish entrance qualifications, and had to get them upgraded before she could start a degree course. She had a job while she was studying for her Highers. She worked in a factory, and sometimes she babysat for the guy who owned it. Between us, I think she might have had a small fling with him, but if she did, it wasn’t serious.’

‘I’ve never heard this before,’ Celia murmured.

‘No, but you only moved in here last autumn. This story goes back before that.’

Haddock nodded. ‘Go on.’

‘Some time early last year, in the spring maybe, Singer told me that her old boss had been in touch and invited her to a party in his new house. His marriage had broken up and he was celebrating, he told her. She went along. I don’t know if the chap had any ideas, but if he did, they didn’t work out, for that was the night when Anna met Dino Francey. One of the people at the party was drunk and he made a pass at her. Dino saw him off, and that was the start of it all.’

‘Interesting,’ the DS said. ‘Can you remember where this party happened?’

‘Sure, and I can even tell you the name of the host. It was in North Berwick, and his name was Callum Sullivan. He introduced the two of them, Singer and Dino.’

The two detectives stared at each other. ‘Are you sure about that?’ Pye asked.

‘Of course. Singer had a Christmas card from him.’ Ilse frowned. ‘What’s this about anyway? Are you going to tell us? So far you’ve done nothing but ask questions.’

‘No, we’re not going to tell you,’ Pye replied. ‘All I will say is that it’s Dean Francey we need to locate, not Singer, but as far as we can see, she’s our best route to him. So when she shows up, tell her to get in touch with us. I repeat, tell her, don’t ask her.’

He caught a look in Celia’s eye, an anxious look. ‘Ian’s not involved in whatever it is, is he?’

He smiled. ‘No. As far as we can tell he’s on the side of the good guys.’

They left the two students to return to Coronation Street, and made their way back outside. ‘I’ll drop you at the office,’ the DCI told Haddock, ‘so you can pick up your car.’

‘I’d expect no less,’ Haddock replied cheerfully. ‘What’s tomorrow’s priority?’ he asked.

‘Assuming Dino hasn’t turned up, we visit the man Mackail. In fact, we might ask him to visit us, just to sweat him up

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