Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [16]
Marks didn’t reply, but studied the top report on the pile. Goodhew and Kincaide waited for him to speak.
‘Michael,’ he said finally, ‘I’d like you to accompany me while I question Mr Knott. You go down now and make sure the interview room’s ready and that we have all the necessary kit.’
‘Kit?’
‘Like chairs for starters,’ Marks muttered drily. ‘Just use your initiative and I’ll be with you in a few minutes.’
If Kincaide was surprised to be dispatched so abruptly, he didn’t show it. However, just before he closed the door, he heard Marks announce that Goodhew had drawn the short straw. So it was as Goodhew had predicted: Kincaide had bagged ‘the something really interesting’ while Goodhew was about to receive ‘the something incredibly dull’.
Marks watched Kincaide leave, then spent the next few seconds quietly scratching his ear.
‘When’s my birthday, Gary?’
The question seemed odd but the junior officer answered without hesitation. ‘July 14th, sir.’
‘You’re very open about your ability to do that.’
‘Do what, sir? Remember dates?’
‘Find things out. What is it, a talent or an obsession – or something else?’
Goodhew shrugged. ‘I didn’t know it was anything special, I suppose I just have a good memory.’
‘Bollocks,’ Marks grunted, but without any hint of anger in his voice.
Silence.
Each stared at the other with a kind of respectful curiosity. Marks strummed the desk and looked like he was trying to read Goodhew’s thoughts.
He then took a breath and addressed his junior. ‘If I were speaking to the person behind these tip-offs, the first thing I’d want to know is where they get their information and, secondly, why they can’t come to me directly. Perhaps they break the law to retrieve the evidence – so if I condoned that, not only would it be inadmissible evidence, but they could lose their job over it.’
‘If they had a job,’ Goodhew pointed out.
‘But why am I asking you all of this?’ Marks’ eyes shone, though Goodhew couldn’t decide whether he was looking at a gleam of anger or a glint of encouragement.
‘No idea,’ he replied evenly.
‘Because I have a sneaking feeling that you’re taking the piss, Goodhew. That’s why.’
Goodhew raised an eyebrow. ‘Not at all, sir.’
Marks rapped the desk several times with a sharp tap-tap-tap of his index finger, using the sound like a gavel to ensure he had Goodhew’s full attention.
Which he did.
‘These two tip-offs have both occurred in the three months since you arrived here.’
Goodhew’s eyes widened. ‘I had no idea, sir. But I suppose new people start work here all the time, so it was bound to coincide with someone new. Just circumstantial evidence then, I guess. Sir.’
‘Don’t be smart, son. It is just as well that circumstantial is all I have. I’m now going over the files to see what we missed, and to find out why someone with either an unusual talent or an obsession with uncovering information, managed to hone in on that obscure group of men called “recently divorced, sociopathic wife-beaters who can only get a hard-on when they have sex under the flight path of jets taking off from a commercial airfield”. I can see how obvious all that is, now it is pointed out to me. To think the rest of us thought we were cleverly scrutinizing simple things like sex offenders, plane spotters and disgruntled ex-airport staff.’
Goodhew eyed his boss with concern. ‘I sense this is frustrating you, sir.’
The phone rang and Marks mouthed, ‘Piss off, Gary,’ as he lifted the receiver to his ear. His voice kept its usual unemotional tone, and he spoke for about thirty seconds.
He replaced the handset and continued. ‘Well, in this particular case, I don’t care too much how we caught him, assuming we’ve got the right guy. I’m just relieved we did so before it happened again. I’m not saying