He poked at the pics with the end of a Biro, as if they’d soil his fingers. Then he shook his head. ‘You expect me to believe this taradiddle?’ he asked scornfully. ‘Eliot James? As in, Eliot James who plays golf with the Chief Constable? Eliot James who runs charity schemes for underprivileged kids at his leisure centres? That Eliot James?’
‘The same,’ I said. ‘Having friends in high places doesn’t stop you being a crook. Look at the Guinness trails. And if doing charity work was a guarantee of staying out of jail, the Krays would still be running London. Look, James is hanging on to his business empire by his fingernails. Check it out. Go down Ice World, The Dinosaur Adventure, Laser Land, or any of his leisure complexes. They’re all empty. His cash flow doesn’t. The only reason DCI Prentice isn’t running a full-scale fraud inquiry into the sleazeball is that she thinks the drugs angle deserves the first bite of the cherry. But if you’re not interested, I know she’ll be after James like a greyhound out of a trap.’
Turnbull leaned back in his chair. The legs sounded like an avant-garde string quartet. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it, how you’ve managed to find all this out so easily when we’ve been trying to get something on this mob for ages?’ he speculated. ‘If I was a suspicious man, I might think it was because you and your boyfriend were in it up to your eyeballs, and you decided to shop the rest of the team to try and get him off the hook. You wouldn’t be the first private dick caught out by the recession who decided to turn their limited knowledge of crime on its head.’
The only thing that stopped me being arrested for assaulting a police officer was the realization that I’d be as much use to Richard as a chocolate fireguard if I ended up behind bars too. So I smiled sweetly at the insult. ‘If I was going to turn to crime, Mr Turnbull, I wouldn’t have to leave the house. Computer crime. That’s where the real, no-risk money is these days. And I’ve forgotten more about computers than you’ll ever know. Look, I’m not asking you for a major favour. I haven’t once said, I’ll tell you what I know in return for you letting Richard walk away from all of this. I’m handing you all this on a plate, and all I’m asking is that you don’t oppose Ruth Hunter’s request for a short remand so you can start to test the value of what I’ve given you.’
‘And that’s all, is it?’ he asked, utter disbelief riddling his voice like a virus in a computer.
‘Pretty much, yeah. You see, Mr Turnbull, in spite of your performance this morning, I happen to think you’re an honest copper. I don’t think you want innocent men put away just to make your clean-up rate look better. And I know the strength of what I’ve given you. I think after forty-eight hours you’ll have the same gut feeling I’ve got about Richard’s innocence, and I don’t think you’ll be opposing bail then. But I’m not asking for any promises.’
‘Just as bloody well,’ he grumbled, ‘for you’d not be getting any.’ He stared down at the photographs on his desk, slowly sifting through them, assessing what he was seeing with the eyes of an expert. Turnbull eventually looked up. ‘So, what has Ruth Hunter told you to ask for?’
‘I want you to call the Crown Prosecution solicitor and ask that they don’t oppose Ruth’s request for a short remand.’
‘That it?’
‘That’s it. Now, are you going to give me something back, or am I going to develop profound amnesia about the events of the last three days?’
He grinned. ‘You know, for a girl, you’re not short on bottle. OK, I’ll do it. I can’t say fairer than that, now can I?’
‘That’s fine,’ I said. ‘You won’t mind if I hang on while you make the call?’
This time he laughed delightedly, his hand making a half-hearted gesture that, if I’d been a bloke, would have turned into a clout on the back that would have brought my breakfast back. ‘You’re not a Yorkshire lass by any chance, are you? No? Pity.’
I waited while he did as I’d demanded. He was no more charming to the Crown Prosecution Service’s solicitor than he’d been to me, but he seemed to achieve the right result. On my way out of the door, I said, ‘By the way — Mr Broderick wants to know when you’re going to release his very expensive motor from your compound.’
Turnbull snorted. I almost expected him to paw the ground. ‘He’s been on to you as well, has he? You tell your Mr Broderick that he can have his poncey set of wheels back when I’m good and satisfied that it’s going to yield up no more clues to me. And that could be after your boyfriend’s trial. Now, bugger off and let me get on. Oh, and leave me that tape, will you? Like you said, it’ll save me having to keep you here all day making a statement.’
I handed the tape over with a grim little smile. ‘One other thing,’ I said. ‘Nothing to do with Richard. You know those transfers that kids use — temporary tattoos, that sort of thing?’
Turnbull nodded. ‘I’ve got a seven-year-old that gets in the bath looking like a merchant seaman. What about them?’
‘Ever heard of them being impregnated with drugs and used to get kids high?’
Turnbull pulled a face. ‘I’ve heard rumours, but I’ve never actually come across a case. It’s one of them urban legends, isn’t it? It always happens to a friend of a friend’s cousin’s dog. Crap, as far as I’m concerned. If I was wanting to get kids stoned, I’d just stick something in sweets or fizzy drinks. Helluva lot easier. Why d’you ask?’
‘Like you said, urban legend. A friend of a friend’s cousin’s dog asked a doctor I know about it. She said the same as you.’ I got to my feet. ‘Sorry to have troubled you. Thanks. For phoning.’ And I was gone, quitting while I was still ahead. Let’s face it. Telling Geoff Turnbull about Davy’s brush with the hallucinogens wasn’t the way to get his daddy out of jail.
Chapter 20
I walked back through the office door on the stroke of twelve. The door to my office was closed. I raised my eyebrows in a question at Shelley. She pursed her lips and said, ‘I had to shut the door in case any clients walked in.’
Curious, I opened my door a couple of feet and stuck my head round. I saw instantly what she meant. Davy was still intent on the computer, but now Bill was sitting next to him, clutching his own joystick. Neither of them looked up at the sound of the door. I cleared my throat. Bill glanced up. As soon as he realized it wasn’t Shelley with some troublesome business query, I could see his attention leave the game and focus sharply on me. He got up, saying, ‘I’ve got to go and talk to Kate, Davy. Thanks for the game.’
Davy didn’t even look up as he said, ‘But Bill, you’ve got one more life!’
‘Well, since you’ve still got four, I guess I’ll have to concede. You win,’ Bill said, pretending to be petulant about it.
In the glow of the screen, Davy grinned, his body shifting strangely in the chair as he controlled whatever it was that was currently conquering the universe. Bill steered me out of the room and through into his office. ‘He’s a nice kid,’ Bill said. ‘No bother.’ I was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with me. Was I the only person on the planet who liked to live in a child-free zone?
Bill sat down and stretched his long legs in front of him. ‘So, how did it go?’
I filled him in on the weekend’s events. Maybe I should just ring Richard Branson and ask him to release it on CD. It would save me a lot of time. Then I ran through my interview with Geoff Turnbull.
‘You think he really will keep an open mind about Richard?’ Bill asked.