Aladdin’s cave for electrical appliances, none of them in their original packaging. There were boxes full of digital cameras, DVD recorders, iPods, laptop and desktop computers, silverware, picture frames, candlesticks, DVDs, CDs, jewellery, digital camcorders …’ Good God!’ Logan was impressed in spite of himself. ‘How many houses did you have to knock over to get all this?’
Berwick suddenly found his shoes of all-consuming interest. ‘I’ve never seen these things before in my life.’
‘Oh, come on. You know fine well we can just cart all this stuff down to the station and check it against our burglary reports. Everything in here’s going to be clarted in your fingerprints. Why not save us all the trouble and tell us who you stole them from? It’ll look much better for you in court.’
There was a moment’s silent contemplation, then a long-suffering sigh. ‘Fuck. Who told you?’
‘Give us the addresses and I’ll make sure the PF knows you cooperated.’
‘It was Margaret, wasn’t it? Vindictive bitch. Not bad enough she takes my kids and everything in the building society,
‘Detective Sergeant,’ said Logan. ‘And no.’
Berwick nodded. ‘Good. That’s where the fucking trouble starts. You go out and do your best to put food on the table. Keep a roof over their heads. Then she starts going out at night on her own, when she’s supposed to be looking after the kids. “Visiting friends”. Lying bitch.’
Deep in the garage, Rickards pulled a box from the pile and rummaged about in it, coming out with a translucent, purple dildo. ‘Sir, I’ve found something!’
Logan groaned. ‘Put on a pair of gloves for God’s sake!’
‘Course, you know what she was doing, don’t you?’ said Berwick, as Rickards snapped on a pair of latex gloves and started hefting out various items of sexual apparatus. ‘She was screwing the guy who came to install our broadband. There’s me, risking life and liberty to keep her in hair dye and French classes, and she’s off shagging some internet geek.’ He seemed to shrink. ‘And get this, when I confront her, she’s the one who acts all hurt! How dare I follow her! What happened to trust? She’s shagging someone else and I’m getting a bollocking for not trusting her … Fucking women.’
Rickards held a round metal canister aloft. ‘
‘I go out on a job and when I come back she’s gone. Took the kids and everything else that wasn’t nailed down. Hired a removal truck: you believe that?’ Berwick sniffed, watching the PC in his garage happily digging through the stuff from Zander Clark’s Victorian porn collection. ‘Found a note in the kitchen: “I’ve left you. Mother always said I could do better, so now I have.” ‘He shook his head. ‘Tell you, never trust a bloody woman, they’ll fuck you over every time.’
It was well after six but Logan was still sitting in DI Steel’s incident room, surrounded by ever expanding piles of paperwork, filling in all the forms that came with actually solving a burglary. Rickards was on the other side of the desk, trying to match up the list of items collected from Ronald Berwick’s garage with the properties he said he’d stolen them from. They hadn’t recovered everything on the burglary reports, but then Logan hadn’t really expected to. In his experience most people padded out their claim with at least two things they’d never owned in the first place, but always fancied — figuring the insurance company wouldn’t mind treating them. And Berwick had been flogging stuff down the pubs to finance his redecorating binge.
Logan put the finishing touches to another set of forms and sent them to the laser printer in the corner, creaking his way out of his chair to go get them when the machine had finished squeaking and whirring. ‘How many’s that?’ he asked, stapling the new sheets together and adding them to the pile.
Rickards looked up from his screen. ‘I’ve done twenty.’
Logan nodded, then checked his watch. ‘So we should be finished about … seven, half-seven?’ He stifled a yawn. ‘After that, we’re going for a pizza. Not often-’
‘Sorry, sir,’ the familiar, telltale blush was working its way across Rickards’ face. ‘I’ve got a … ehm … meeting to go to tonight.’
‘Yeah?’ Logan slumped back behind his desk and called up the next burglary report. ‘Let me ask you something,’ he said, starting in on the form, ‘what kind of people are into that kind of thing?’
‘Well …’ the constable cleared his throat, going an even deeper shade of embarrassed scarlet. ‘It … we …’ The door clattered open and a look of relief bloomed on Rickards’ face, until he realized it was DI Steel standing in the doorway with hair like a startled grey squirrel, two patches of dark blue shadowing the armpits of her blouse.
‘Well?’ she demanded, ‘Is it true?’
Logan nodded, pointing at the steadily growing pile of completed forms. ‘Sixty-two break-ins.’
‘Sixty-two? Ha — that’s nearly all of them! You try to fit him up with the rest?’
‘Yes, but he’s not having any of it. They’re probably his, but he’s sold the stuff, so we’ve got no evidence.’
‘Ah well, can’t complain I suppose. Sixty-two …’ She stuck her hands in her pockets, and beamed happily. ‘All those burglaries cleared up and wee Sean Morrison in custody; my crime statistics’ll look bloody brilliant this month. Right, soon as the paperwork’s done we’re goin’ out on the toot. My treat. You me and Spanky.’
The constable sent Logan a panicked look. ‘Spanky …?’
‘Actually, ma’am, Rickards was just telling me he has to go see his mum tonight, so it’ll just be you and me.’
Steel actually looked disappointed. ‘Aye? You sure Spanky? Clearin’ up sixty-two break-ins needs a celebration …’ She left a long enough pause for Rickards to change his mind, but the constable just blushed furiously and apologized instead. She shrugged. ‘Ah well, means more beer for us.’
An hour later and Rickards was long gone — hurrying off to get rubbered up, or whatever it was he did with his BDSM mates, grinning from ear to ear because Logan had told him he’d done an excellent job today, carefully downplaying Steel’s new pet name for the constable. After all, knowing what the inspector was usually like, ‘Spanky’ was getting off lightly. Logan pulled the final report from the printer, powered everything down, flicked off the lights, yawned, and headed downstairs to the main reception desk. It was quiet and empty, so he let himself in the side door, heading round the back of the two-way mirror, where Big Gary was busily slurping his way through a vast mug of coffee and getting chocolate digestive crumbs all over a copy of the
‘Mmmmphmm mph?’ he asked as Logan helped himself to a biscuit.
‘No idea. I’ve been on days non-stop for a week now and I’m knackered.’
Big Gary washed down his mouthful with a slug of coffee. ‘Your shift pattern’s for shite, you know that, don’t you?’ He pulled a thick ledger from the shelf. ‘Take three days off and then you’re on nights Saturday.’ He gave Logan a big fat wink. ‘And that puts you back in step with the lovely Miss Watson.’
Logan smiled. ‘About bloody time too.’ It’d be nice to spend some time together for a change. He checked his watch — she was on days, so that meant she’d be home right now. Maybe he could swing her an invite to Steel’s burglary celebration? He dug out his mobile and called the inspector — from the sound of things she was already in the pub.
‘
‘Just finished, I-’
‘
‘Do you mind if Jackie joins us tonight?’
‘
Smiling, Logan hung up and called the flat, getting the answering machine. Again. He tried Jackie on her mobile. ‘How’d you like to come to dinner with me and DI Steel? She’s buying.’
There was a small pause, then, ‘
‘Oh …’ Logan frowned, trying to picture Janette and coming up empty. ‘You
