‘So?’
Pye raised a hand. ‘I see where Jack’s going with this,’ he murmured. ‘If he gives us the jewels, just like that, we could be fucked. We didn’t have a search warrant, so we’re on shaky ground using them as evidence.
‘Let’s make some assumptions here. I doubt that Patrick Booth is a major drug importer himself; that means he’s a rung on a ladder. In that racket, normally you’d expect that whoever’s at the top of that ladder would brick it when he heard that the guy’s been arrested. He’d be liable to do one of two things. He’d either try to have him killed while he’s on remand. . not the easiest thing to do, I don’t care who you are. . or he’d hire him a very good brief, probably Frances Birtles, or somebody of her stature.’
‘Frankie Bristles,’ the DS chuckled. ‘We’ve met her before, haven’t we, Jack, when we worked together?’
McGurk nodded. ‘We have, so we know how sharp she is. If she does wind up representing Booth, none of us will need telling what she’ll do as soon as you introduce those jewels as evidence. She’ll want to know that they were legally obtained.’
‘Granted,’ Haddock argued, ‘but we were invited in and we had reason to believe there were Class A drugs in the house, and when we looked for them. .’
‘And who invited you in?’
‘Oh fuck,’ he sighed. ‘Vicky’s hardly going to confirm that, not without a medium.’
‘I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ Pye said. ‘Without the jewellery box, we have nothing. Sure, Booth’s prints will be at the scene of Bella Watson’s murder, and we’ll have his DNA there too, but we bloody well know he’s been there, with Vicky and the child visiting her so-called auntie. We’re got that from Karen’s witness, Mrs McWhatsername, and I’m sure that Frankie Bristles or whoever it is that defends him will be able to prove, through her again, that the victim was seen alive after that visit.’
‘In that case, what are we going to do, Sam?’ Haddock asked. ‘Do we need to do anything? He’s done for killing Vicky, for sure.’
‘For killing her, yes, but he’s a long way short of being done for murder. My guess is that they’ll try to plead that down to culpable homicide. Then, come the hearing, the defence will claim that we forced an illegal entry and that when he saw us there he panicked.’
‘That’s bollocks!’ Haddock protested, righteously indignant. ‘What about him booting mine? He’s got to go down for that too.’
‘Oh he will. He’ll get a year to run concurrently with whatever he gets for the homicide, and what will that be? It won’t be mandatory life, remember. Maybe six or seven, if it’s a soft judge who takes pity on him for accidentally blowing the top of his sweetheart’s head off. Hell, he could be out in two or three. I’m not having that.’
‘How are we going to avoid it?’ Sauce demanded.
‘By making sure of our own evidence.’ The DI looked at McGurk. ‘Where is the box just now, Jack?’
‘It’s still at the scene. We haven’t removed anything yet.’
‘Good. Have the drugs squad been over the place?’
‘Yes. There was plenty of residue in the bathroom basin and in the S-bend, plus they found a quantity that the girl had missed, hidden under the mattress of the wee girl’s cot. They say it’s not heroin or cocaine, but a synthetic drug. Whatever it is, they’ve got more than enough for him to be charged with possession with intent to supply.’
‘Even better,’ Pye said. ‘I’ll talk to Mary Chambers and make sure that they convict him on that charge first, so that it can be led in evidence in our case. That might well establish our right to enter. But just to be sure, you and I, Sauce, we’ll get ourselves a search warrant, then we’ll go back there, and we will find our evidence, legitimately.’ He paused. ‘Are you both okay with that?’
‘All the way,’ McGurk agreed.
‘Yes, Master Luke,’ Haddock said.
‘Insubordinate fucker,’ the DI grunted, but he was fond of his nickname. ‘Right, Jack,’ he continued, as the visitor unfolded his tall frame from his small chair. ‘Thanks for coming down.’
‘No worries. Let me know when you’re going in there. It is my crime scene, after all, so Karen or I should be present.’
‘Aye,’ the young DS mused. ‘It’ll need to be done by the book, or our Mr Mackenzie will be all over us when he becomes “operational” again.’
‘I detect a touch of sarcasm there, my young friend,’ McGurk said. ‘I’ve heard that he’s on sick leave. . suffering from a bad case of wounded pride, it’s been suggested.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I think I speak for all of us when I say I hope he won’t be back.’
‘Amen,’ Pye murmured. ‘The man’s an arse.’
‘I had thought of a different anatomical analogy,’ McGurk countered, with a wink. ‘See you later.’ He headed for the door.
‘You happy with that?’ Pye asked Haddock as soon as they were alone.
‘Sure. I wish we could get Booth right away, that’s all.’
‘No, it’s better that we don’t. It gives us time to get that warrant and make everything legit. Besides,’ he added, ‘Booth might have fallen into our lap, so to speak, but we do have another line of inquiry. We need to follow it up; if we didn’t it would be sloppy and we’d get pulled up on it. Speaking for myself, I’d rather not have Mackenzie pull me up for anything, least of all a balls-up in a murder investigation.’
The DS frowned, but only for a second. ‘Oh aye,’ he exclaimed. ‘The girlfriend of Bella’s son’s, and the potential grandchild. You’re right; we need to find them and interview them, especially given the source of the information.’
Pye nodded. ‘You get my drift. Off you go and see whether our Jackie’s had any luck.’
Haddock nodded and stepped out of the cubicle office into the main CID room.
DC Wright was at her desk; she seemed to come to attention, although seated, as he approached. ‘Sarge,’ she began, until he raised a hand to stop her.
‘Fuck’s sake, Jackie,’ he exclaimed, ‘I know I’m a sarge. Call me Sauce; everyone else does and I wouldn’t want you to feel left out.’
She smiled. ‘If you insist.’
‘How’s your trace going, the one I asked you to do yesterday? Any joy?’
‘Fine, but only up to a point. I used the date of Marlon Watson’s death as a starting off point; approximately three months later, a girl called Marie McDonald Ford gave birth to a boy. Marlon was named as the father and the baby was called after him, with Ryan as his middle name.’
‘Granny must have had a hand in that,’ Haddock mused. ‘Ryan was her other son’s name, the one that was murdered when he was fifteen.’
‘Mmm. Where did the name Lulu come from, do you think?’
‘Real name,’ he murmured, casually.
‘What?’
‘The singer Lulu; her real name is Marie.’
‘Is that right?’ The DC was impressed. ‘Imagine you knowin’ that. She’s old enough to be your mother.’
‘My mother told me. She’s a fan. . and yes, you’re right. Mum’s ten years younger than Lulu. She’s always saying she wishes she looked it.’
‘I’m sure she does look it. You’ve got a fresh-faced look about you.’
‘That’s not what my girlfriend says first thing in the morning. So,’ he continued, ‘Marlon Watson junior. What became of him?’
‘That’s what I meant by “up to a point”. I’ve found a Registry Office marriage record for Marie Ford, two years later, to a man called Duane Hicks, a West Indian, from St Lucia. They had a child together, a girl they christened Robyn, with a “y”. But that’s where it stops. They no longer live at the address shown on the marriage certificate, and there’s no record of either of the kids, Marlon or Robyn, ever attending school in Edinburgh. I’ve just been on to the Social Security department and there’s no record of either Ford or Hicks currently paying National Insurance, or drawing benefit. The same goes for Marlon Ryan Watson; a number was generated for him automatically when he was sixteen, but it’s never been active.’
‘Does Duane Hicks have an NI number, given that he’s not British?’
‘Yes, he does, but he hasn’t paid any contributions for fourteen years. When he did, he was employed as a marine engineer by a firm in Leith. I tried to contact it but it closed down, guess what, fourteen years ago. My assumption is that when Hicks became unemployed they left the country.’