Hamptons like a Frenchie’s loaf.’
‘What I meant, Guv, was that Barton selling on mucky photos is hardly worth our while worrying about. He’s done time already, and he didn’t have an easy ride of it inside. He’s absolutely terrified of going back.’
‘My heart bleeds,’ intoned Gene. He sparked up a fresh smoke, contemplated it for a moment, and then said, ‘Okay. I’ll let Barton go. We need the space down there in the cooler. But the point remains, Tyler, that you’ve been going behind my back. It’s not for you to decide who gets to walk out of them cells.’
‘That’s what bothering you, isn’t it, Guv?’ said Sam. ‘You don’t give a stuff about “the pornographer’s den”. All that’s bothering you is that you feel I’ve trodden on your toes.’
‘Yes, I do. And, if there’s one thing I have, it’s sensitive toes.’
‘Well, it might soothe your bruised tootsies to know that Annie’s doing some nifty detective work out there. Looks like she’s identified our lorry thief. Derek Coren. His brother Andy’s doing time in Friar’s Brook right now.’
Gene shrugged. ‘That doesn’t get us any nearer to identifying the bloke in the crusher.’
There was a demure knock at the office door and Annie appeared.
‘Sorry to disturb you, Guv,’ she said, ‘but I’ve just picked up some information. Andy Coren was reported missing from Friar’s Brook last Friday. He escaped.’
‘Friday. The same day the body was found in the crusher,’ added Sam.
‘And the same day Derek made off with them fridges,’ mused Gene. He was furrowing his brows, like a dog picking up the scent. ‘All three incidents, all on the same day.’
‘Those lorries at Kersey’s Yard,’ Sam said. ‘Gertrude and Matilda. They were both bringing in junk from Friar’s Brook.’
‘There’s major renovations going on there,’ Annie explained. ‘They’re pulling down the old kitchens and boiler house.’
‘And ten-to-one says they’re using the inmates to help load up the lorries with junk,’ said Gene. ‘What you reckon, Sammy boy? Did our lad Andy Coren stow himself away on the back of one of ’em?’
‘Kersey said it was a stack of old ovens he was munching up in that machine,’ said Sam. ‘It’s perfectly feasible Andy Coren could have climbed into one when it was loaded up at Friar’s Brook, and been carried out inside it.’
‘Maybe easier to climb into one of them ovens than climb out again,’ said Gene. ‘Handy Andy’s not quite the Houdini he thinks he is. He might have got himself out of Friar’s Brook but he sure as shitty knickers didn’t make it out of that crusher.’
‘What if that was Derek’s job?’ suggested Annie. ‘What if Derek turned up to get his brother out of the oven, but somehow got it all wrong?’
Sam nodded, seeing a pattern emerge. ‘There were two lorries coming to the yard – Gertrude and Matilda. Andy was aboard Matilda – but Derek thought he was on Gertrude. That’s why he made off with it like that – he thought he was rescuing his brother!’
‘But instead all he got was a ton of old fridges,’ growled Gene. ‘Still, I know which is more use to society.’
‘Guv, a young man has died,’ Sam reproached him.
But Gene shrugged. ‘What’s the world lost? A thieving little tit. What you want me to do, drop big fat tears on my tie?’
‘Perhaps you should for once, Guv, yes, instead of dollops of ketchup. Whatever Andy Coren did, he didn’t deserve to die like that. He was just a kid.’
‘A flid, more like,’ Gene cut across him. ‘And his brother Derek’s an even bigger spastic than Andy. What a bloody pair. Not exactly The Great Escape, was it? Well, whatever. Case closed. There’s nothing here for us.’
‘You think so, Guv?’
‘Of course. It’s a ballsed-up escape attempt. Dopey Derek got the wrong lorry, and brain-of-the-week Andy Coren got put on the world’s fastest diet. What you want me to do, nick the crusher and charge it with grievous? Leave it to plod, let them sort it out.’
Sam shrugged. In one thing at least Gene was right: it looked very much like nothing more than a bungled escape attempt. If so, their job here was done. But when he glanced at Annie he could see at once that she wanted to speak.
‘Annie?’ he said. ‘Is there something you’d like to add?’
Annie looked from Gene to Sam to Gene again.
‘Well …’ she said.
‘Well what, luv?’ barked Gene. ‘If you’ve got an opinion that you think’s superior to mine then I’d love to hear it. It’s Monday morning, I need a laff.’
‘Well, if you really want my opinion, Guv,’ said Annie, ‘I reckon there’s more to this than just Derek accidentally getting the wrong lorry.’
‘Conspiracy, not cock-up, is that what you reckon?’ asked Sam.
Annie shrugged, then nodded.
‘And what do you base this supposition on?’ said Gene, giving her a sour look. ‘A hunch?’
‘Something like that, Guv.’
‘Hunches are for real coppers, luv, not for jumped-up secretaries. What you got ain’t a hunch – it’s called time o’ the month.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Guv, that is bang out of order!’ snapped Sam.
‘Keep your hair on, Marjorie,’ Gene said, examining his tie to see if it really did have ketchup on it. ‘Sometimes, Tyler, I think you’re like a bird an’ all.’
‘It’s that letter, Guv, the one from Andy Coren to his brother,’ Annie went on, keeping her cool. ‘It’s not normal. There’s something about it.’ Gene wasn’t looking at her. He was picking at crusty bits of food stuck to his tie. She carried on regardless. ‘You asked my opinion, Guv, and I’ve given it to you. There’s something suspicious about that letter and I’m going to do my best to find out what it is.’
‘Good for you, lass,’ said Gene, examining the crust he’d just plucked.
‘Look at the handwriting, Guv,’ Annie insisted, holding out the crumpled sheet of paper. Silently, Sam willed her to stand her ground, make her point, break through Gene’s macho carapace and make herself heard. ‘Look how all the letters are nicely spaced out, dead neat. Andy Coren’s barely literate, guv, he’s never in school, he’s always out thieving or getting himself nicked. You think he writes like this? And look how strangely worded it all is.’
There was a flicker of interest in Gene’s face which he tried to disguise.
Sam took the letter from Annie’s hand and studied it with renewed interest.
