‘It’s okay,’ she said, keeping her tone as calming as she could, and laying a hand on his, gently, but ready to hold on tight if he did decide to make a run for it.
‘You’re not in any trouble here,’ McGurk added. ‘We’re involved in a very complex investigation, and we need your help. We apologise for being a bit devious. That’s not how we work, usually, but we know you haven’t been in your job for all that long, and sometimes, if the police turn up in the workplace looking for a new employee, the bosses can get nervous.’ He produced his warrant card, and Neville followed suit. ‘Take a look, in case you doubt us. Proof that we are who we say we are.’
The youth leaned forward and peered at them. Then he nodded, seemingly reassured. ‘So,’ he responded, ‘what do you want from me?’
‘We’d like to talk to you about your father,’ Neville told him. Instinctively, both officers knew that Hicks would respond better to her, and McGurk was happy to lean back and let her lead.
‘My father? What’s he got to do with anything in Edinburgh?’
‘How much do you know about him?’
‘I know he’s a super bloke, and I love him. He’s the reason I’m here; he taught me my trade and then he got me a job in Scotland, ’cause like he says, there’s a limit to the experience you can gather in St Lucia. Like today; I’m working on a Rolls-Royce. Tomorrow it could be a Mercedes limo, or a Bentley; there aren’t too many cars like that on a little island. I’m going to go back, though; my dad has his own business, and I want to work with him, so he can retire when he’s ready.’
‘I’m not talking about Mr Hicks, Marlon,’ the DS said, gently. ‘I mean your natural father, Marlon Watson.’
He frowned, and in an instant his bright, open face was clouded by anger. ‘Him? I don’t think of him as my father. All he ever give me was his name and I’m changin’ that. My dad is Duane Hicks, nobody else, and you’re right, Hicks is my name too. That other man, he left Mama before I was born, left her alone. He hurt her so bad she won’t ever talk about him.’
‘But she named you after him,’ Neville pointed out.
‘I never knew that,’ he retorted fiercely, ‘not until I had to see my birth certificate so I could change my name all legal, for my British passport. I’m happy to be St Lucian, but Dad said no, I should have a British passport too.’
‘She never told you that you were named after him?’
‘Never. She told me she called me after a boxer, Marvellous Marvin Hagler, only she got his name wrong. Sure, I know now she was kidding, but I’m still happy with that. I don’t want to be called after him.’
‘Whatever, it’s your choice. What about your grandmother? Have you ever had anything to do with her, that you can recall?’
He stared at her, and a mile-wide smile spread across his face. ‘Grandma? Of course I have. She was the first person I went to see when I got here. Grandma’s cool. She’s kinda old, but she likes Beyoncé, and the Rolling Stones, and Bob Marley. She’s got Wailers albums that I never heard of, and she even knows who Pete Tosh was.’ He chuckled. ‘She likes the volume loud too; Grandpa Ford, he’s always tellin’ her to turn it down some, but she never listens.’
‘No, Marlon,’ Neville said, quietly. ‘Again, I wasn’t asking about your Grandma Ford; I meant your Grandma Watson.’
The sunshine vanished as quickly as it had arrived. ‘What you saying?’ he protested. ‘I ain’t got no Grandma Watson. I got Grandma Ford and Grandpa Ford and Grandma Hicks. I never heard of no other grandma.’
‘Are you sure? You knew that Mr Hicks wasn’t your natural father. .’
‘Sure I knew that,’ he snapped scornfully. ‘Just by looking at him then looking in the mirror, I’m gonna know that. Duane’s black, lady, and I’m pale.’
‘Yes, but if Marlon Watson’s your natural father, then it stands to reason that. .’
‘I don’t give a fuck about no reason,’ Marlon exclaimed, loudly enough for the lady behind the counter to throw a meaningful look in his direction. ‘I don’t know the man or anything about him and I don’t want to know.’ He gazed at McGurk. ‘Look, Mistah Acting Inspector, can I go now? You get me here thinking you were someone else and you ask me all these crazy questions, but you don’t tell me what it’s about. To be truthful wit’ you, I don’t care what it’s about, so I don’ see why I should sit here any longer. I got to get back to work.’
The big detective nodded. ‘Okay,’ he conceded, ‘you’re right. We should tell you what our inquiries are about, but I warn you, it may shock you. Yes, it’s true that your father left your mother before you were born, but he didn’t have any choice in the matter. He left her because he was murdered.
‘From what I’ve been told about him, he wasn’t a bad man, but if you don’t know anything about your Watson family you’re probably lucky, and I can understand why your mother and your dad have protected you from the truth.’
As McGurk spoke, Neville studied the young man’s expression as the words sank in, seeing shock, incomprehension and in equal measure.
‘This ain’t true,’ he whispered.
‘I’m sorry,’ she countered, ‘it is. Your father, his brother and their uncle were all murdered, by or on the orders of the same people. It was an underworld thing.’
‘Are you telling me my father and his kin were all gangsters?’ Marlon gasped.
‘The uncle thought he was, but he was out of his depth. Your father’s brother was a stupid little boy, fifteen years old, but he wanted to be one. As for your father, he was somebody who kept the wrong company, and it got him killed.’
‘Fifteen years old?’ Marlon repeated. ‘What happened to him?’
‘He dealt drugs for his uncle to kids at his school, and they were caught; to the people who supplied them, that was a capital offence.’
‘Who were these people? The ones who killed them?’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ McGurk told him. ‘It’s ancient history now.’
‘And what about this grandma you say I’ve got?’
‘Well, that’s the thing,’ Martin said. ‘I’m afraid that she’s followed the pattern. It’s her murder we’re investigating. Her remains were found in the river a couple of weeks ago.’
‘You mean the dead woman who’s been in the papers? The body on the island? That was her?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘God!’ he gasped.
‘That’s why I have to ask you again. Did you know of her, and have you ever visited her?’
‘No,’ he insisted, ‘never. Honest,’ he added. ‘Why? Has somebody said I did?’
‘No,’ McGurk replied, ‘but just in case our bosses ask us to prove that to their satisfaction, we’d like you to give us a sample of your DNA. Would you agree to that?’
‘What? You mean like blood?’
‘No,’ Neville reassured him, ‘just a saliva smear from your mouth. We can take it right here.’ She reached into her bag and took out a sealed spatula, and a plastic envelope.
The young man glanced around, checking that no one was watching.
‘I can take it from you in the toilet if you’d rather,’ McGurk offered.
‘No. Let’s do it here.’
Following the sergeant’s instructions, he opened his mouth and let her swab the inside of his cheek, then watched as she bagged the sample and put it away.
‘Do you tell me when you get a result?’ he asked.
‘No, it’s not like that,’ she replied. ‘You’re giving it to us for elimination only and you haven’t committed a crime, so it won’t be kept on the national database.’
Marlon shrugged. ‘It’s nothin’ to me. As long as it don’t mean I have to be a Watson, that’s okay.’
Forty-Six
‘There was a time,’ Sammy Pye said, as he looked at the white building through its slatted stainless-steel gates, ‘about thirty years ago, when this was the cutting edge of modernist architecture.’
‘If that was so, it’s got a bit blunt over the years,’ Sauce Haddock observed. ‘That gate’s never thirty years old.’
‘No, it isn’t. It looks fairly modern. From Mario McGuire’s description I was expecting something solid. Let’s see if the doorbell works.’