Sergeant. The next half-hour, as Faraday knew only too well, would probably decide J-J's fate.
'What do you think?'
Crewdson had opened a window and lit a small cheroot.
'I think I might have been wrong.' He expelled a thin blue plume of smoke. 'Your boy was sensational. In a court of law he'd win a round of applause.'
'I'm not with you.'
'He confirmed everything they already know. Sure, he tried to score for Kelly but he did it with the best of intentions. There's no question that he was physically involved in supply, but every indication that he was appalled by what followed. There's something else, too.'
'What's that?'
'You fucked around with a couple of the answers…' He paused.
'Didn't you?'
Faraday nodded, aware of the hot blush of colour rising in his face.
'Instinct,' he muttered. 'Couldn't help myself.'
Crewdson gazed at him a moment, then stepped across. Faraday felt oddly grateful for the hand on his shoulder.
'I'm not blaming you for a moment,' Crewdson said softly. 'Any father would have done the same. It's just nice the whole interview's on video.'
Faraday stared at the solicitor. The last hour or so had upset him more than he'd thought possible. Why the broad grin?
'You're telling me all that was inadmissible?' he said at last.
'Totally. They had no right to put you in that situation, total conflict of interest. Believe me, that interview won't get anywhere near a courtroom.' He gave Faraday's shoulder a final pat. 'They won't see it that way, of course, but then policemen never do.'
The summons to the Custody Sergeant came shortly afterwards. Faraday followed Crewdson through to the Charge Room. They passed Stapleton and Moffat in the corridor. The two DCs were on their way out to the car park. Neither said a word.
The Custody Sergeant was standing at his desk, sorting through the paperwork from the arrest and interview. He acknowledged their presence with a nod, then reached for a pen, glanced up at the clock on the wall, and began to write. Finally, he closed the folder and capped the pen.
'I've had a word with DCs Stapleton and Yates.' He tapped the file.
'I've also been through statements from DCs Winter and Suttle. Given the lad's cooperation, there's no point in remanding him. Under the circumstances, we're bailing him for two weeks, pending further inquiries. He needs to be back here on the fifth of April.' He produced another form for signature. 'Would you mind, Mr. Faraday?'
Chapter twelve
THURSDAY 20 MARCH 2003, 17.30
The last place DC Jimmy Suttle would have chosen for a discreet meet was the top floor of the Southsea branch of Debenhams. The Debs cafeteria was for bored housewives with oodles of kids or OAPs in search of a cheap snack. What on earth was a vision like Trudy Gallagher doing in a place like this?
'It's Blue Cross Day. They're giving stuff away. What makes you so choosy? Are you rich, or something? Look…' She reached down for her bag and produced a collection of boxed underwear. Two pairs of black lace knickers. A scarlet bikini for the summer. Three silk thongs in case she ever met the man of her dreams. 'Under forty quid the lot. Happy now?'
'Very.' Suttle was thinking of the body they'd found in the upstairs room at Bystock Road. Black lace would be perfect. 'What about blokes' stuff?'
'Take your choice. 501s. Maine. Adidas. Stuff they rip you off on any other place.'
'You think I should take a stroll, then? While you finish that lot?'
He nodded at her bowl: three scoops of ice cream with a dressing of maple syrup.
'No.' She shook her head. 'Stay here.'
She ducked her head to hide her smile and loaded her spoon with melting ice cream. She'd phoned Suttle on the mobile number he'd given her at Gunwharf, the first time they'd met. She wanted to talk to him about something but it had to be private, one on one. If he turned up with that tosser Paul Winter, there was no way they'd even start a conversation.
Suttle, amused by her dismissal of Winter, had invented a pressing appointment at his dentist and left Winter pursuing house-to-house inquiries in Portsea. He'd heard him on the phone to the Crime Squad DS, telling him there was no way anyone with half a brain in Portsea would ever testify against one of Bazza's lieutenants, but it seemed that DI Lamb was under the cosh for a result and was insisting on giving the house-to-house a punt. Winter, he knew, hadn't been fooled by his line about the dentist but was evidently happy to cut his young oppo a little slack. 'Whoever she is,' he'd grunted, 'give her one from me.'
Trudy had abandoned the ice cream. The smoking tables were on the other side of the cafeteria, beside the loo. Suttle pulled out a chair for Trudy, catching a swirl of perfume as she sat down. His last girlfriend had also been mad about Ralph Lauren, though a 36 atomiser for Christmas had done nothing to rescue the relationship.
'Where did you learn stuff like that?' Trudy shook out two Marlboro Lites and laid one beside his half-drained glass of 7 UP.
'Stuff like what?'
'Manners.'
'Comes naturally. I was born polite.'
'Naturally bollocks. How come you're in a job like this, nice bloke like you?'
'The money's good. Plus you get to meet interesting people.'
'Like who?'
'Like you, for starters.'
'I didn't come here to be chatted up.'
'Yes you did. Light?' He cupped a match in his hand, keeping it close, and felt the soft brush of her hair as she leant forward over the table. Moments later, behind a cloud of blue smoke, she started to laugh.
'You know something? You're really nice. I mean it. Most blokes in this city haven't got a clue. They treat you like you're something out of a zoo. Give your cage a rattle. Give you a poke to see if you're still breathing. Bet you're really gentle, aren't you?'
'Yeah.' Suttle nodded. 'I am.'
'I like that in a man, I really do. Not enough of it around.'
'What?'
'Gentle.' She paused while a middle-aged woman in an ankle-length coat swept past en route to the loo.
Suttle caught a gust of air freshener as she pushed at the door, then Trudy was beckoning him closer.
'It's about Dave Pullen,' she muttered. 'I've done something really daft and I'm scared shitless about what's going to happen. There are ten million people I could talk to about it but they're all pretty fucking clueless.'
'So why me?'
'I just told you. You're nice. Plus you've probably got a brain.'
'I'm also a cop.'
'Yeah, but that's not your fault.'
'Thanks.'
'I'm serious. If I wanted a cop I could talk to Uncle Paul. I know he's a twat sometimes but he knows what he's about when it comes to doing the business.'
'Who says?'
'My mum. And she should know.'
Suttle nodded. There were snares here, he knew it, traps of his own baiting. Just looking at this girl, he sensed she was genuine. Not only did she fancy him but she wanted his advice. Was that asking too much? He
