Private Investigations

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 Drizzle? We need him too.’

‘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.’

‘I’d leave them where they are if I were you.’

‘Why’s that?’

Haddock looked him in the eye. ‘If we haven’t caught up with him by then, we’ll be waiting here for him. Although,’ he added, ‘the chances of him turning up are about the same as Dunfermline winning the Premier League.’

‘Is he in real trouble?’ Jagger asked, his cockiness abating for the first time.

‘Oh yes.’

‘Is it that kid? The one in the car?’

Three heads turned to look at Ian Harbison.

‘Why should it be?’ the DS murmured.

‘I saw the lunchtime news on the kitchen TV,’ he said. ‘There was a report from Fort Kinnaird, and the cop on the scene gave a description that could have been Dino.’

‘You’re supposed to be thick,’ Wright observed.

‘No, miss,’ Drizzle replied. ‘But I don’t mind people believing that. It’s good to be underestimated. You want Dino for the dead kid, don’t you?’

‘Yes, we do,’ Haddock admitted.

‘In that case, I’ll help you find him.’

‘Hold on here, Driz,’ his friend intervened. ‘This is the polis.’

‘Yes, and they’re looking for our pal because he had the body of a child in the boot of his car. Leaving aside the fact that it would be a jail time offence to help him, it’s time you showed just a trace of personal morality. We’re thieves, Jagger, that’s all; so don’t go quoting some stupid Mafia code of silence at me.’

He turned to Haddock. ‘If Dino’s in trouble, Singer’s the only one he’ll go to. I don’t know where she lives, because he never said, but she’s due to be working at Lacey’s tonight. That’s all I can tell you, but you’re welcome.’

He stopped for a few seconds then added, ‘No, one more thing. Dino didn’t kill a child; he’s a fool, he’s a thug and he’s a coward, but he wouldn’t do that.’