Half Moon Investigations - Eoin Colfer [16]
‘I could do that,’ I said gently, eager to avoid sarcasm with a paying client. ‘But then I’d have to print everyone who’s ever been in here and, even if I did that, those prints would be useless unless we actually found the laminated curl, by which time we’d probably already know who took it.’
April sighed. ‘The guards wouldn’t dust for fingerprints either; they wouldn’t even come to the house.’
‘The guards are busy with stuff like bank robberies and fugitive hunts. Missing-hair cases are best left to a private detective.’
‘Like you.’
I snapped my notebook shut. ‘Exactly.’
If you’re outside the system, you need a contact on the inside. I had a special relationship with a guard in Lock going back over three years. So far, all the information had been going one way, from me to him. Now it was finally time to reverse the flow of traffic.
I phoned him from the payphone outside the station on my way home that evening. We met on a park bench fifteen minutes later.
‘Nice shirt, Fletcher,’ said Sergeant Murt Hourihan. ‘You looking for a job in a surf store?’
Being a law-enforcement agent, the sergeant felt he had to begin every conversation with a smart comment.
He laughed at his own joke, then got down to business.
‘What do you have for me, Fletcher?’
The sergeant hid behind his newspaper as he spoke, as though we weren’t talking. Just two people who happened to be sharing a bench. He did this for my benefit. He thought we were playing a little game.
‘I charted all those auto thefts from that case.’
‘I tried that, Fletcher. What do you think, you’re the only one with a brain around here? There was no obvious pattern.’
I pulled a printout from my jeans pocket. ‘There is a pattern. Look.’
I slid the printout along the bench. Sergeant Hourihan picked it up, unfolding it behind his newspaper. A smile spread across his face.
‘There are two groups of thieves,’ he said finally.
‘That’s right. When you realize that, there are two clear centres of activity. If I were you, I’d look for chop shops near the old bridge and south of the Red Hen Tavern. Watch out for teenagers in BMWs.’
‘I already did. We have a car at both locations.’
I was surprised. ‘I’m surprised. Is this some kind of test?’
The sergeant folded the printout, sliding it into his jacket pocket. ‘I’m just helping you to be all you can be. It’s a valuable lesson; sometimes when you can’t find a pattern, it’s because there is more than one. Nice work, Moon. See you next week.’
‘Wait, sergeant. I need a favour.’
Hourihan’s smile widened. ‘What? Do you need more chocolate already?’
This chocolate thing was getting out of hand. I was acquiring a reputation. ‘No. I’ve got chocolate all wrapped up. I want information.’
‘Information? You sound like a real detective, Fletcher.’
‘I need to see anything you have on the Sharkeys.’
The sergeant folded his newspaper. ‘The Sharkeys? Papa Sharkey and Co. Those Sharkeys?’
‘Those are the ones. I’m following a few leads.’
The sergeant rolled his paper into a tube, pointing it at me like a baton.
‘Now, listen here, Fletcher. I’m all for you having a look at old cases, even letting you have a look at the odd investigations map. I enjoy our little chats. But the Sharkeys? That’s different. Papa isn’t the sort of person you want to get involved with. He’s smart too. Never done a day in prison. Unlike most of his relatives. No, you stay well away from the Sharkeys. The last thing you want to do is become a blip on Papa’s radar. If he finds out who you are or, worse still, where you live, life could become very uncomfortable for you.’ Sergeant Hourihan gave me a stern stare, perfected by years of interrogating suspects. ‘Do I make myself clear, Moon?’
The sergeant had given me the stare before, so I wasn’t too intimidated.
‘What if you give me a look at the Sharkey file, and if I figure anything out, I tell you straight away?’
He chortled. ‘God, you’re a chancer, Fletcher. You have more neck than a herd of giraffes. First of all, you wouldn’t be able to carry the Sharkey file, it’s so thick,