'What?' said Nikki, watching him closely.
'I've seen a pack of this stuff before. Where did you get it from?'
'Some freebie handout,' she said, putting her handbag back on the chair.
'No, I've seen it somewhere else. Not in a shop, either.' He searched for the memory and started seeing all sorts of images. A white-painted room, crushed packets of cigarettes, cups stacked up in a dirty sink, rows of tins in a cupboard, empty beer cans piled high in a waste-paper basket, a drawer slightly open with the contents neatly arranged inside.
He knew that he had two strands of memory twisted together: one suggested cleanliness and carefully controlled behaviour, the other disorder and abandonment. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed against them with a forefinger and thumb, trying to make sense of the opposing images. Polly Mather's kitchen? No, her place was a tip. Must have been Mary Walters' kitchen. Then the memory of the discarded chewing gum wrapper sprang up in his mind and he saw the distinctive diamond pattern of the carpet surrounding it. 'Polly Mather's floor. In her front room,' he said, certainty filling his voice. With that strand of memory established, he was able to concentrate on the one suggesting a well-ordered living space. He clicked his fingers and opened his eyes. 'And in Mary Walters' kitchen drawer.'
Nikki looked at him in silence with her eyebrows raised.
'Have you got any gloves?' She handed him a pair.
Jon walked round the tables, stopping at the one marked 'front room'. The waste-paper basket was lying on its side and next to it crumpled beer cans, cigarette butts and torn-up packets of Rizla covered the surface. With a forefinger, he poked around, suddenly stopping and holding up a loosely folded rectangle of paper. Straightening it out, he said, 'Bingo.' It was the outer wrapping from a stick of X-treme gum.
Nikki was standing next to him. 'Yes?'
'I'm sure there's also an unopened pack of this stuff in Mary Walters' kitchen drawer.'
She turned her hands outwards. 'So? There's probably tins of baked beans in both their flats, too.'
'Yes, but this is unusual isn't it? A limited edition — part of a relatively small batch.'
Picking up on Jon's line of thought, she clapped her hands together in excitement. 'I saw it for sale just the other day!'
'Where?'
'One of those dodgy stalls in the Arndale Market that sells end-of-line and out-of-date stuff.'
He put the gum wrapper in an evidence bag, then yanked his gloves off. 'Come on. I'd like to know how the stallholder came by it.'
He parked next to the incident van outside forty-six Lea Road and got out. Nikki stayed where she was. 'You coming or what?' he asked, leaning in through the open door.
'I can't enter another crime scene that's part of an investigation I'm involved with — it's regulations.'
Jon nodded. 'OK. I won't be long.'
The crime scene manager was inside the vehicle drinking a cup of tea. Jon signed his name in the log book and slipped on a crime scene suit. Squeezing past a couple of forensics guys in the hallway, he followed the footplates into the kitchen, going straight over to the second drawer down. There amongst the other odds and ends was the pack of X-treme chewing gum.
He dropped it into an evidence bag and returned to the incident van. Placing it on the table in front of the crime scene manager, he peeled off his suit. 'Could you catalogue that, please? Recovered from the second drawer down in her kitchen.'
Back in his car he said with a grin, 'Next stop, the Arndale.'
The shopping centre was crowded with the usual array of people. Young mums wheeled their pushchairs aimlessly around. Clusters of teenagers shuffled into the computer games shops, their nylon shell suits swishing as they went. Jon and Nikki headed straight for the escalator, taking it down to the lower level and walking past rows of shop fronts. At the end of the corridor they turned left, the tiled floor sloping down into a tunnel, cramped shopping units on each side. The air was coppery with the aroma from a butcher's stall selling cleaved-up chunks of meat, slabs of tripe and anaemic-looking sausages. They had entered the centre's economy shopping zone.
Emerging into the main hall, Nikki led Jon past a stall piled high with baby clothes and another almost buried under rolls of material. Next they passed one selling jokes and adult novelty toys. 'Fake dog turd?' asked Nikki with a grin, before stopping at a stall crammed with assorted items of food — bags of slightly damaged jaffa cakes for ninety-nine pence, dented cans of fizzy drinks for twenty pence, bottles of ketchup with German labels for seventy-five pence.
Nikki scanned the front of the stall. 'There,' she said, pointing to a tray of X-treme gum.
Jon nodded then looked at the stallholder. 'Excuse me?'
The man looked up from his newspaper to find a warrant card inches from his face.
'DI Spicer, Greater Manchester Police. This chewing gum you're selling — where did you get it?'
The man closed one eye, as if trying to recall. 'Probably from the cash'n'carry on the Oldham Road. That or a wholesaler's.' He waved a hand to signal that was the best he could do.
Jon knew the man was being deliberately vague. 'Listen mate, I'm investigating a murder. Do you think it will jog your memory if you close up for the day and come down to the cop shop with me? Bring all your books as well. We'll go through everything and make sure all your accounts tally up.'
The man folded his paper. 'OK. It was a one-off. This guy, he's always coming round with stuff.'
'So if it was a one-off, what's he usually selling?' The man looked uneasy. 'This and that.'
Jon leaned forward, 'Fuck me around any more and you're coming to the station. What does he usually sell?'
The man raised a hand to run it along his top lip as if in thought. From behind his fingers he mumbled, 'Car stereos.'
'Selling to you?'
'No! What would I want with them?' He gave the slightest of nods in the direction of the stall behind. 'Ed's Electrical Emporium. Behind you. Just this one time though, he had a few boxes of that chewing gum. I took the lot off him, ten quid cash I think.'
'What does this person look like?'
'I don't know. Always kitted out in designer stuff. Wiry ginger hair, top teeth stick out a bit. Thin.' His eyes shifted to the side of Jon's head and his words dried up.
Jon glanced over his shoulder, saw the Ferret sauntering across the hall. He looked back at the stallholder. 'That's him, isn't it?'
Reluctantly, the man nodded. Nikki started to turn around but Jon hissed at her to keep looking at the stallholder.
'He's coming in this direction?' asked Jon.
The stallholder watched from the corner of his eye. 'Yes… no… he's going over to Ed's. Looks like he's got some more stuff to sell.'
Jon took another glance over his shoulder. The Ferret was approaching the electrical stall, a sports bag in one hand.
'Who is it? Do you know him?' asked Nikki.
Jon nodded his head in reply, slipping his mobile out of his pocket, but the market was below ground and his mobile was flashing red. 'No bloody reception.' He thought for a moment. 'Right Nikki, I'm going to lift him. I want you to stand behind him and put on your stern face.'
Nikki took a deep breath. 'Oh, Jesus.'
'Don't worry,' Jon whispered. 'I'll do everything.'
Jon walked over to Ed's Electrical Emporium. The Ferret was talking to the stallholder with quick snatches of speech, shifting his weight from foot to foot.
Jon stepped up behind him and raised his warrant card. 'Excuse me.'
The stallholder's eyes went wide, his expression saying it all. Without even turning his head, the Ferret dropped the bag and bolted to his right, slamming directly into Nikki. Their bodies were in contact for an instant before she flew backwards to the tiled floor, head cracking against it. He stumbled into the corner of the stall, toppling a couple of CD players to the floor before regaining his balance and starting to run.