be a lot longer if big brother didn't drag him away before the trouble really gets going. He started early?John Stobie's broken ribs and arm in 1975 likely down to him, Stobie refused to give a statement, said he'd had an accident on his bike. Duff suspected of involvement in unsolved break-in at the off-license at West Port 8/78. One day he's going to go away for a long time. Janice always appreciated the personal notes their local record-keeper appended to the official record. It helped when you were going out on an arrest to know if things were likely to turn ugly. And by the looks of it, the Duff boys could turn very ugly indeed. A pity really, she thought. Now she looked back, Colin Duff was rather hunky.
"What do you think?" Shaw asked, surprising her both because of her train of thought but also because she wasn't used to CID expecting her to be capable of joined-up thinking.
"I think Rosie was keeping quiet about who she was seeing because she knew it would provoke her brothers. They seem like a close family. So maybe she was protecting them as much as her boyfriend."
Shaw frowned. "How do you mean?"
"She didn't want them getting into more trouble. With Brian's record especially, another serious assault would get them both jail time. So she kept her mouth shut." Janice put the cards back in the file.
"Good thinking. Look, I'm going up to the CID room to write up the report. You go down to the mortuary and see about arranging a viewing for the family. The day shift can take the Duffs down, but it would be helpful if they know when that's likely to happen."
Janice pulled a face. "How come I get all the good jobs?"
Shaw raised his eyebrows. "You need to ask?"
Janice said nothing. She left Shaw in the intelligence office and headed for the women's locker room, yawning as she went. They had a kettle in there that the guys knew nothing about. Her body craved a hit of caffeine and if she was going to the mortuary, she deserved a treat. After all, Rosie Duff wasn't going anywhere.
Alex was on his fifth cigarette and wondering if the packet was going to last him when the door to his interview room finally opened. He recognized the thin-faced detective he'd seen up on Hallow Hill. The man looked a lot fresher than Alex felt. Hardly surprising, since it was getting on for breakfast time for most people. And Alex doubted very much if the detective was experiencing the dull ache of a fledgling hangover at the base of his skull. He crossed to the chair opposite, never taking his eyes off Alex's face. Alex forced himself to hold the policeman's gaze, determined not to let exhaustion make him look shifty.
"I'm Detective Inspector Maclennan," the man said, his voice clipped and brisk.
Alex wondered what the etiquette was here. "I'm Alex Gilbey," he tried.
"I know that, son. I also know you're the one that fancied Rosie Duff."
Alex felt a blush rising across his cheeks. "That's not a crime," he said. Pointless to deny what Maclennan seemed so certain of. He speculated which of his friends had betrayed his interest in the dead barmaid. Mondo, almost certainly. He'd sell his granny under pressure, then convince himself it was the best possible outcome for the old woman.
"No, it's not. But what happened to her tonight was the worst kind of crime. And it's my job to find out who did it. So far, the only person connected to the dead girl and also connected to the discovery of her body is you, Mr. Gilbey. Now, you're obviously a smart boy. So I don't have to spell it out for you, do I?"
Alex tapped nervously on his cigarette although there was no ash to dislodge. "Coincidences happen."
"Less often than you might think."
"Well, this is one." Maclennan's gaze felt like insects crawling under Alex's skin. "I just got unlucky, finding Rosie like that."
"So you say. But if I'd left Rosie Duff for dead on a freezing cold hillside and I was worried I'd maybe got some blood on me, and I was a smart boy, I'd engineer it so that I was the one who found her. That way, I've got the perfect excuse for being covered in her blood." Maclennan gestured at Alex's shirt, smeared with the dirty rust of dried blood.
"I'm sure you would. But I didn't. I never left the party." Alex