'Mmm, I suppose so.' There was a number printed in the bottom left hand corner. 'Is that the date?' I asked.
'Yeah. Third o' May, 2.33 p.m.'
'Right, thanks. I'll put it on my bedroom wall with all those I took of her with the zoom camera I borrowed from technical.'
'Otherwise,' Dave said, 'it's all gone off the boil. I think we should stir things up a bit.'
'Where do you suggest we start?'
'Well, we haven't done anything about the delightful Sharon's weekend of passion with Sir Morton, have we?'
'If that's what it was.'
'It will 'ave been, believe me.' ''Spect you're right. I wonder if she calls him Sir Morton in bed?'
'Oh! Sir Morton!' Dave shrieked.
'Sounds like a song. Let's go see her, then.' I stood up, tucked my shirt in and unhooked my jacket from behind the door.
Dave said: 'Oh, before I forget. You're invited to lunch on Sunday.'
'Super. I'll look forward to that.' Dave's wife, Shirley, cooks the best Yorkshire puddings east of the Appalachians.
'Yeah, Sophie's coming up, bringing this boyfriend with her. It must be serious.'
'Sophie!' I exclaimed.
'Mmm. My daughter, your goddaughter, remember?'
'Yes. I meant, um, Sunday. I might not be able to make it on, um, Sunday.'
'Why not?'
'Er, Wales. I might go to South Wales with Rosie.'
'Fair enough, but the invite's there. Bring Rosie along if you want.'
'Right. I'll mention it to her.'
The telephone saved me from further embarrassment. I listened, replaced the receiver and hung my coat back on the door.
'Sharon's off for this morning,' I said. 'Gareth Adey's in a meeting with the ACC and the knicker thief is waiting downstairs for an official reprimand. He wants me to do it, so I'll see you later.'
He was twelve years old, sitting on a chair in the foyer with his feet not reaching the floor. Hair plastered down, grey trousers and a school blazer, fear oozing from his well-scrubbed pores. His father sat next to him.
'Interview room?' I said as I breezed past the front desk, and the sergeant flapped a hand in their general direction. Take any one, business is slack.
'I've interviewed murderers in this room,' I said when we were seated, after the introductions, 'and now I've had to drop an urgent case to talk to you.' The boy, Robin, glanced up at the tape recorder on the wall. 'We're not recording this talk,' I told him, 'but I hope you'll remember it.'
'There was a meeting,' I went on, 'to decide what to do with you. Six people who'd never met you, deciding on your future. How does that make you feel?'
He shrugged his shoulders.
'How do you think that makes your dad feel?'
Another shrug. 'Answer the Inspector,' his father told him.
'Not very happy,' Robin admitted in a whisper.
'That's right. Not very happy. Disappointed. They decided to give you a reprimand. That means that you admit the offence and it doesn't mean that you've got away with it. Do you understand?'
He nodded. 'Yes.'
His dad nudged him. 'Yes, Inspector.'
'Yes, Inspector.'
'Good, so tell me. Robin, why were you stealing items of underwear from washing lines?'
It was all a joke, a display of bravado. Several boys from school had dared each other to see who could collect the most. After a bit of probing it looked as if there was a hint of bullying behind it.
'I don't suppose you want to tell me the names of the other boys?' I said.
He didn't reply, gazing down at the table.
'OK, in that case I won't ask you. But let me tell you this: When there's a serious crime the first thing we do is interview what we call the usual suspects. We have a register with all their names on. If your name is on that we can call on you any time we need to, day or night, for the rest of your life. An offence like this should warrant putting you on the list. Is that what you want?'
'No, Sir.'
'Good. As you're so young we've decided not to put you on it, this time. Now, how do you feel about apologising to the people you stole from?'
He looked from me to his father and back to me again. The fear had turned to terror. Probation service run a scheme called the victim of fender unit, where certain selected villains are challenged to meet the people they stole from to apologise and offer reparation. I explained the scheme to Robin and his father and Robin reluctantly agreed to cooperate. I asked him to wait outside while I chatted to his dad.
'I'll have a word with probation,' I said, 'to see if he's suitable. With there being sexual overtones it might not be wise to disclose Robin's identity.'
'I don't think sex comes into it,' his father said. 'He doesn't bother about girls at all. His testicles haven't dropped yet.'
'Fair enough, but I think we've given him something to think about.'
'You certainly have. Does this mean he has a criminal record?'
'No, a reprimand is what we used to call a caution but it's not a conviction, although by accepting it he has admitted his guilt. We'll have his name on file until he's eighteen, but there's no need for him to disclose it to any future employer. These other boys. Do you think you could ask him for their names, and let me know? I didn't want to push him into a corner. Grassing up his friends and all that wouldn't be good for his self-esteem, but telling you might not be such a big deal.'
'No problem. And thanks again.'
We left the room and I escorted them off the premises. Prompted by his father, Robin apologised and thanked me. 'I don't want to see you in here again,' I told him, 'unless you're wearing the uniform.'
The office was empty when I went back upstairs, so I stuffed my wallet into my back pocket and went walkabout in town. Inspector Adey, resplendent in white shirt, short sleeved and with epaulettes, was coming out of the HMV shop, carrying one of their bags as I crossed the road. It must have been a short meeting with the ACC. I dashed across and into the shop. One cashier was standing idly behind his till.
'That man who just left,' I said. 'The policeman. He's a colleague of mine. Don't suppose you can tell me what he bought can you?'
The youth grinned, happy to oblige. 'Garth Brooks,' he replied. 'The Chase.'
'Country and western?'
'Yeah, well. One man's poison an' all that.'
'Thanks. Are you likely to have the music from Band of Brothers?'
'Try Soundtracks, in the corner.'
It was there, at Ј13.99, which I considered a rip-off. They'd made the music for the TV series, so from now on it was all profit. I'd liked the main theme but wasn't sure about the rest of it, so I decided not to bother and went to the sandwich shop.
Back in the office everybody had materialised again and they'd set the telescope up on a desk, pointing ouf of the window. The troops were queuing up to take turns.
'Hey, be careful with that, it belongs to technical services,' I said.
Jeff Caton was at the helm. He let out a low whistle, saying: 'Just grab an eyeful of that.'
'What?' the next in line demanded.
'Legal and General. You can see straight into their office. They've got flat screen monitors.'
'Wow!' I exclaimed as he stood up to let a DC have a look.
'Take a dekko at her in the middle window,' he advised.
