Little Boy Blue

25

‘I’m not a snooper, but when it’s paraded under your nose, what can you do?’

DC McAndrew sighed inwardly, but smiled as she took the cup of tea being offered to her. She had been knocking on doors all afternoon, working her way up and down Jake Elder’s street. Elder was not a man who got involved in community events and he was seldom seen by other homeowners during the day. So far she had amassed precious little information about Elder or his activities. Now she expected she was about to get rather too much.

She was seated in Maurice Finnan’s front room. His wife had passed away some years back but the ‘good room’ was still spick and span, in keeping with the standards the dear departed Geraldine had laid down. Pristine sofas, startling white lace, a faux Persian rug – the whole room had the air of a museum piece. It was the sort of set-up that made the naturally clumsy McAndrew nervous. A tea spillage here might herald the apocalypse.

‘They were coming and going all hours and they weren’t social calls, if you get my drift,’ he insinuated knowingly.

‘I see. Anyone in particular catch your eye?’

‘Not really,’ he replied. ‘They don’t come dressed up, you know? They’re just ordinary-looking people – probably lawyers, accountants and the like. I imagine that kind of thing always attracts people with a guilty conscience.’

He winked at McAndrew, clearly pleased to have a young female to perform to. McAndrew sensed that Maurice was probably lonely and reminded herself not to judge him too harshly.

‘Ever see Mr Elder with any boyfriends? Girlfriends?’

‘Confused, was he?’ Maurice retorted. ‘Not really. There was a fella a few months back – tall chap, with short, chestnut hair, barrel-chested – but he didn’t last long. Funny thing is I seldom saw him – this Jake, I mean – just his visitors going in and out. Quiet as you like during the day, but as soon as darkness fell you’d see them traipsing up to his front door. Three, four, sometimes more in a night. Say what you like about him, he was a hard worker.’

McAndrew smiled and this time it was genuine – despite his curtain twitching, verbosity and fastidiousness, Maurice had a nice sense of humour.

‘I never worked out exactly what he did for them, though if you’re as old as me you can hazard a guess. It was all very discreet, but they always came and went on the hour, see? Doesn’t take much imagination, does it?’

McAndrew was about to butt in, but Maurice beat her to the punch once more.

‘Each to their own, that’s always been my motto. But we’ve all got to live around here, haven’t we? Kids, pensioners, mums and dads. And you don’t know who a place like that will attract. Then there’s the house prices. Soon as it becomes common knowledge that you’ve got a brothel next door – Sorry, love, am I boring you?’

McAndrew realized her gaze had drifted out of the window towards Jake’s flat. Snapping out of it, she turned to Maurice once more.

‘Not at all.’

‘You’re very sweet, but you’re not a good liar and I know you’re busy. Now I did jot down a few number plates in case the police should ever get around to doing anything about it, let me see if I can find them…’

He hurried over to the dresser. McAndrew thanked him, grateful that her time here hadn’t been completely wasted. It was tough doing door-to-doors – ‘hit-and-hopes’ – when you knew the real police work was going on elsewhere.

‘Right, let’s start at the beginning – this was from March 2013,’ Maurice said cheerfully, seating himself and opening his large notebook at the first page.

McAndrew sighed again. Perhaps Maurice had important information for the investigation. Perhaps he didn’t. Either way, one thing was clear – she was going to be here for a long, long time.