‘Far as I know, they think they’ve got enough.’
‘So they’ll be bringing the main suspect to trial.’ Fox nodded his understanding. ‘But what about his clients?’
Gilchrist gave another shrug. ‘I can do a bit of digging, if you like.’
Fox reached over and patted Gilchrist on his thigh. ‘Don’t worry about it. You’re in the Complaints now – you’ve got different fish to fry. Same again?’ Fox signalled to the glasses on the table.
‘Thanks, Malcolm,’ Naysmith said, but Gilchrist was shaking his head.
‘I was only staying for the one,’ he explained. This seemed to come as news to Naysmith, but Gilchrist was draining his glass. ‘Meeting someone in town…’ He was already rising to his feet. ‘See you all tomorrow, eh?’
‘Not me,’ Fox reminded him.
‘No… But good luck.’
‘You think I need it?’
Gilchrist didn’t answer this. He was pulling on his thermal jacket. Fox reached out and grabbed him by the arm.
‘Who was it pulled the surveillance on Breck? You got the call – who was it on the other end of the line?’
Gilchrist wrestled the arm free, his jaw clenched. With a wave in Naysmith’s direction, he was gone.
‘Did you get what you wanted?’ Kaye asked Fox.
‘I’m not sure.’
Naysmith was holding his empty pint glass. ‘Kronenberg, please,’ he told Fox.
‘Buy your own, you little quisling,’ Malcolm Fox replied.
‘Is it all right if I come in?’ Fox asked.
It was nine in the evening and he was standing on Jamie Breck’s doorstep. Breck had just opened the door to him and was wearing an open-necked polo shirt and green chinos, with socks but no shoes on his feet.
‘If it’s inconvenient…’ Fox continued, his voice trailing off.
‘It’s fine,’ Breck eventually conceded. ‘Annabel’s at her place tonight. ’ He turned and padded back down the short hallway into the living room. By the time Fox got there, Breck had switched on some of the lamps. The TV was off, and so was the stereo.
‘I was on the internet,’ Breck seemed to feel it necessary to explain. ‘Bit bored, to be honest with you.’
‘Playing Quidnunc?’
‘How did you guess? Four or five hours today…’ Breck paused. ‘Maybe longer, actually…’
Fox nodded and settled himself on the sofa. He’d been home and tried to eat a ready meal, giving up halfway through. ‘I had a talk with the Grampian Complaints,’ he said.
‘How did it go?’
‘It went.’
‘They want to see me in the morning… a woman called Stoddart.’
‘You’ll be fine.’
Breck fell into one of the armchairs. ‘Sure about that?’
‘Has Annabel come up with anything?’
‘You mean about Vince Faulkner?’ Breck gave a twitch of the mouth. ‘Seems to be getting nowhere. Instead of ploughing on, Giles is going over old ground, seeing if the team’s missed something. ’
‘It’s a lazy strategy,’ Fox commented.
‘They got access to the footage from the casino…’
‘And?’
Breck shrugged. ‘No sign of Faulkner on any of it. But guess what – there were gaps in the recording.’
‘Someone had tampered with it?’
‘A “glitch”, according to the management.’
‘Just as you predicted. Was Joanna Broughton there to explain matters?’
Breck shook his head. ‘She was nowhere to be seen. It was the guy behind the bar – he’s obviously had a promotion. Plus someone from Lovatt, Meikle, Meldrum.’
‘What’s it got to do with them?’
‘Their client had asked them to be present. I told you, Malcolm, she doesn’t want anything tarnishing the Oliver’s rep.’ Breck broke off. ‘Sorry, I should have asked if you wanted a drink.’
‘I’m fine,’ Fox assured him. The two men sat in silence for a moment.
‘Might as well spit it out,’ Breck said with the thinnest of smiles.
‘What?’
‘Something’s eating you.’
Fox looked at him. ‘How do I know I can trust you?’
Breck gave a shrug. ‘I get the feeling you need to trust someone.’
Fox rubbed a finger across his forehead. He’d spent the past hour and a half thinking much the same thing. ‘Maybe I’ll have that drink,’ he said, playing for time. ‘Water will do.’
Breck was already on his feet and heading out of the room. Fox looked around, barely taking his surroundings in. It had been a long day. Dearborn and Broughton, Stoddart and Gilchrist… Breck was coming back with the tumbler. Fox accepted it with a nod. His stomach felt full of acid. His eyes stung when he blinked and there was a persistent throbbing at his temples.
‘Do you need an aspirin or something?’ Breck was asking. Fox shook his head. ‘You look shattered. I’m guessing not all of it courtesy of Inspector Stoddart.’
‘There’s something I’m going to tell you,’ Fox blurted out. ‘But I’m not sure how you’re going to take it.’
Breck hadn’t quite sat down. Instead, he rested his weight against the arm of his chair. ‘In your own time,’ he coaxed.
Fox took another sip. The water had a slightly sweet aftertaste, reminding him of the way tap water had tasted in his childhood, on a hot day after running around outside.
‘You’ve been under investigation,’ he stated, avoiding eye contact. ‘Up to and including surveillance.’
Breck thought for a few seconds, then nodded slowly. ‘That van?’ he said. ‘Yes, I sort of knew about that. And about you, too, of course.’ The two men fixed eyes. ‘You seemed to know a bit too much about me, Malcolm. Remember when I told you my brother was gay? You said you didn’t know, but that meant you knew I had a brother in the first place. Then when you came round here, you couldn’t really explain how you knew my street.’ He paused. ‘I was hoping you might eventually get round to saying something. ’
‘And here I am…’
‘I thought maybe you were trying to tie me to Glen Heaton.’
‘We weren’t.’
‘What then?’ Breck sounded genuinely curious.
‘Your name appeared on a list, Jamie. Subscribers to a website…’
‘What sort of website?’
Fox angled his head so he was staring at the ceiling. ‘I shouldn’t be doing this,’ he muttered.
‘Bit late for that,’ Breck told him. Then: ‘What sort of website…?’
‘Not the sort you’d want Annabel knowing about.’
‘Porn?’ Breck’s voice had risen a little. ‘S and M? Snuff…?’
‘Underage.’
Breck was silent for a moment, until a laugh of incredulity exploded from his mouth.
‘You paid by credit card,’ Fox went on. ‘So CEOP had us run a check.’
‘When did all this start?’
‘Beginning of last week. I started backing off once we’d met face to face…’
Breck had slid from the arm of the chair into the seat itself. ‘My credit card?’ he asked. Then he sprang up and left the room, returning a minute later with a folder. He held it over the coffee table and tipped out its contents, crouching down to sift through everything. There were bank statements, receipts, mortgage letters and credit card statements. Fox couldn’t help noting that Breck’s savings account was well into five figures. Breck himself was plucking out the credit card statements.
‘Australian dollars, most likely,’ Fox explained.
‘There’s nothing here…’ Breck was running a finger down the columns. He used his card a lot – supermarkets, petrol stations, restaurants, clothing companies. Plus his internet and TV packages.
‘Wait a second,’ he said. The tip of his finger was running along one entry. ‘US dollars, not Australian. Ten dollars translates as eight pounds.’
Fox looked at the description. ‘SEIL Ents,’ he read.
‘I never paid any attention…’ Breck was almost talking to himself. ‘Sometimes I buy downloads from the States… Is this it, do you think?’