‘Maybe… back a bit further.’
She saw the shadowy figure that had caught her eye.
‘There. Freeze it.’
‘The guy in the dark jacket?’
‘Yes, that’s him.’
Narey didn’t speak for a bit, but studied the man on the screen. About five foot five, lanky fair hair and upturned collar. The glint from a pair of steel spectacles causing an orange tinge under the streetlight. Was it him? She couldn’t be sure but it looked promising.
‘Do you know him, Sarge?’
‘Yeah. I think I might, Imelda. Can you close in on him?’
The operator picked out an area around the man and a larger image appeared in front of them.
Narey laughed out loud.
‘Rubber Johnny,’ she sniggered. ‘And here was me thinking he had retired and got out of the pervert business.’
Couper turned and looked at her in confusion.
‘His name is John Petrie,’ explained Narey. ‘A long-time customer of Her Majesty’s Constabulary. God knows how many times he’s been collared over the years. He’s a freak-out creep of the first order. Hadn’t heard of him in ages. Thought he had lost the taste for it.’
‘The taste for what?’ the WPC asked warily.
‘He likes to frequent the work space of the ladies of the night,’ Narey told her. ‘Rarely approaches them, never lays a finger on them, but likes to spy on them when they get down to business. Sometimes he gets charged, sometimes he just gets chased and that’s the end of it.’
‘What a weirdo,’ remarked Couper.
‘It gets worse,’ Narey said. ‘Rubber Johnny got his nickname for one very good reason. He watches the girls getting it on with the punters, waits for them to leave then ducks back down the alley, picks up the discarded condoms and makes off with them.’
‘That is fu- That is gross, Sarge.’
‘You were right the first time, Imelda,’ Narey agreed. ‘He’s the grossest of the gross. Takes the used rubbers home with him and keeps them as some kind of freaky souvenir. You have to wonder what he does with them.’
‘I’d rather not know,’ the WPC replied.
‘Ah well, that’s where we differ. Because I really do want to know what he does with them.’
Narey swung over to the computer that sat behind her and punched Petrie’s name into the PNC database where she found his current address. She pulled her mobile from her pocket and found Corrieri’s number in her address book.
‘Hi, Julia. Where are you? Okay, good. Meet me in Summerston, say twenty minutes. Islay Street. I don’t want to count any chickens because this could be nothing but on the other hand it might be just what we need.’
Corrieri asked what the lead was but Narey wasn’t for telling. Partly because she wanted to get straight in her own head how to play this. And partly because she was quietly pleased with herself and wanted to savour it.
Rubber Johnny lived in a block of flats deep in Summerston. It was a first-floor hellhole with broken bikes and bags of rubbish on the landing and junkies for neighbours.
There were people hanging out of windows shouting to those sitting smoking on the front steps, kids running around half naked and everyone yelling when speaking would have done.
Narey briefed Corrieri quickly on the street outside Petrie’s flat, enjoying the look of confusion on Corrieri’s face when she mentioned Petrie’s name.
‘The condom guy?’ she’d asked doubtfully.
‘The one and only,’ Narey replied.
‘You think he’s our man?’
‘I doubt it. He’s a watcher, not a lover or a fighter. He’s never so much as touched one of them so it doesn’t seem likely he’d start bumping them off now. No, I’m interested in Rubber Johnny for his collection rather than for the murders.’
‘Fucking gross.’
‘Funny, that’s exactly what Imelda Couper said. Come on, let’s go in.’
They climbed the steps to the first floor where Narey knocked sharply three times on Johnny’s door. They soon heard soft footsteps coming towards the door and the shadow under it gave away that someone was standing there. The footsteps didn’t retreat but the door didn’t open.
‘Open the door, Johnny,’ Narey said gently.
There was a pause before the sound of a chain being pulled back and the snib turning on the door. It swung back and revealed a sandy-haired man in his early fifties with steel specs and a few days’ growth on his face. On someone other than Rubber Johnny it might have qualified as designer stubble. He was wearing a dark, baggy T- shirt and there were slippers sticking out from beneath his faded jeans. It was obvious that he recognized Narey but was weighing up Corrieri with suspicion.
He didn’t say anything, just turned and walked back into the flat with the two cops following behind him. Johnny knew the routine and couldn’t be bothered arguing the toss on his doorstep.
With a wave of his arm he directed them to a settee before falling back into a well-worn armchair.
‘Well? What do you want?’
‘Nice to see you too, Johnny,’ said Narey.
‘I remember you,’ he muttered, looking at her. ‘Detective Sergeant.’
‘DS Narey,’ she reminded him. ‘This is DC Corrieri.’
Petrie managed a barely perceptible nod in Corrieri’s direction.
‘What do you want?’ Johnny repeated. ‘I’ve not done anything wrong,’ he continued. ‘Done nothing. We’ve been through this a hundred times and the judge said that as long as I didn’t go near the girls then there was “no state of fear and alarm”. Anyway the samples were in a public place.’
Narey knew she and Corrieri were thinking the same thing, smiling inwardly at his legalese and self-delusion and their skin crawling at the thought of his little hobby. Whatever some twat of a judge said, Rubber Johnny was a gold-plated weirdo.
‘Nobody’s arguing about that, John,’ soothed Narey. ‘We’re not here to do you for that. Truth is we could do with some help. We’d just like to take a look at one or two of your samples.’
‘No, no. No way. No. Judge says there’s nothing wrong with it. Nothing you can do. No.’
He was getting hysterical.
‘Calm down, John. It’s okay. We don’t want to take them all away,’ said Narey. ‘There’s one we think can help us with a case and I can take it if it is evidence.’
‘For fuck’s sake. Fuck’s sake. Show me a warrant. I want to see a warrant. No, no, no way.’
‘Johnny, you know the routine by now,’ said Narey, her voice firmer. ‘I can go away and come back with the paperwork and a really bad temper or you can just help us out seeing as we’re already here.’
Petrie looked doubtful. He looked between the two of them trying to suss out if there was another agenda than the one they were laying before him.
‘You’re not in any bother, John. We’re just looking for your help,’ Corrieri chipped in. ‘Someone has been messing with the girls,’ she continued. ‘Some not very nice stuff. We want your help to catch the guy.’
‘And I’m not in trouble?’
‘Absolutely none,’ Narey confirmed.
Rubber Johnny stood up, scratched his head and sat back down. He got to his feet again and nodded towards the door off the living room and for them to follow him.
Petrie held the door open behind him and the three of them traipsed into what turned out to be the kitchen of the tiny flat.
He paced across the worn lino to where an upright fridge freezer sat in the corner, stopping with a hand on the fridge door before he turned and stared at Narey again.
