Carmichael was in a suit and tie, jacket straining at the buttons. He had arranged to meet them at the Feathers in Westminster. Close to Scotland Yard, it was crammed full of coppers celebrating the guilty verdict in some court case.
‘Just a lemonade?’ said Carmichael. ‘You’re pulling my leg?’
‘I’ve got an upset stomach,’ said Helen. ‘Can’t keep nothing down.’
‘Miracles never stop. What’s wrong with Paddy? He looks like he’s swallowed a wasp.’
‘He’s just in a bate with me about something. So. Tell me about this girl you’re going out with,’ said Helen. ‘Is she nice?’
‘I’m not going out with her. It’s just a date. That’s all. The Rib Room.’
‘You sure that’s the kind of place she’d like?’
‘It’s posh. Best restaurant in London.’
‘That’s what I mean,’ said Helen.
‘You don’t think she’d like it? Oh, God. Here’s trouble,’ Carmichael said.
‘What?’ said Helen.
‘Pilcher is here,’ he said.
Before he could say anything else, Pilcher was sitting down with a pint of mild at their table, in a pale brown suit, side parting carefully Brylcreemed.
‘Hello, Paddy. I hear you dressed up all pretty for us the other night,’ he said, smiling. ‘One of the lads saw you there. Apparently you were quite the looker.’
‘Oh, hello, Tozer. Back so soon? Thought you’d gone to live down on the farm,’ Pilcher said in a mock-yokel accent.
‘Know what?’ she said. ‘You should try a bit of make-up sometime yourself. Anything to make you less ugly.’
Pilcher mock-winced. ‘Back in the knife drawer, Miss Sharp,’ he said.
‘To what do we owe the displeasure?’ she said.
‘I just need a word with Paddy here,’ he said. ‘I want him to tell me about this Doyle bloke.’
Breen took half an inch from his lager, then said, ‘Like Carmichael told you, I found his girlfriend. Went and talked to her. Apparently he disappeared on his way back from Morocco. She thinks he may be dead.’
‘And do you actually believe what this woman says?’
Pilcher offered around his Lucky Strikes. Breen didn’t take one; Helen refused one too.
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ said Breen.
Pilcher shrugged, lit his own cigarette with a match. ‘Think about what she’s got to protect. Her boyfriend is a drug dealer. You’re a policeman. Very convenient if he just disappears, isn’t it?’
He held the match upright until the flame burned out.
Breen said, ‘I don’t know if Doyle is dead or not, but I believed her when she said that she thought he was.’
Pilcher blew smoke out through his lips. ‘We knew about Doyle’s girlfriend. She’s a known liar and a drug addict.’
‘Known liar?’
‘Customs caught her at Dover last year.’ He put on a girlish voice. ‘“Oh my. I was just carrying that shoebox home as a favour to a man I met in Istanbul. I had no idea it was full of cannabis resin.” Milkwood fixed it that she got off as a favour to Doyle.’
‘That’s different,’ Helen said.
‘But it doesn’t make her the most reliable of sources. Maybe he took the money and scarpered.’
Helen said, ‘So, let’s get this straight… The CID are looking into Milkwood’s murder. But you haven’t actually told them what Paddy says about Doyle, have you?’
‘Of course we will,’ said Pilcher. ‘We just haven’t yet.’
Helen snorted. ‘You don’t like the idea of other coppers digging around in your business, do you?’
Carmichael was talking now: ‘What if Milkwood and Doyle, together, were on to whoever had been killing drug smugglers? And that’s the reason they’re both dead. The Spanish stuff… That photograph of the dead guy that the Spanish police wanted us to identify. It squares with what she was saying.’
Pilcher nodded. ‘Maybe.’ He turned to Breen, ‘Sonny Jim here–’ he pointed at Carmichael–‘tells me I spend too much time going after users. He says we need to tackle the suppliers. I’m all for that. But I’m more of an economist, see. If you just try and cut off the supply, you’ll only increase the price of drugs and make the trade more profitable. The best way to kill the demand is to scare the shit out of the drug addicts. Johnny feels different. But maybe he’d be happier in Customs and Excise.’
Carmichael scowled, but didn’t answer.
Helen said, ‘I thought you just busted pop stars ’cause you like getting your picture in the papers.’
‘Nice to be noticed by the grateful public,’ said Pilcher.
‘We need to figure out whether Doyle is one of the bodies that turned up in Spain,’ said Carmichael. ‘We can’t find dental records for him. Even if we had them, it could take weeks.’
Pilcher sucked his lip for a while, then reached inside his wallet and pulled out a ten-bob note. ‘Here, John. Buy your friends a drink. On me.’ And he stubbed the half-smoked cigarette out in the ashtray and stood.
‘Is Pilcher always such an arse?’ said Helen when he’d gone.
Carmichael looked at his watch. ‘Maybe I should go.’
‘There’s ages yet,’ said Helen.
Breen said, ‘I can’t believe he’s still not telling CID.’
Carmichael nodded. ‘He’s convinced they’ll steam in and start to pull in dealers, scaring the horses.’
‘Ask me, he doesn’t want anyone poking around and finding out how many bungs Drug Squad takes off half the dealers in London,’ said Helen.
‘That’s a total lie,’ said Carmichael.
‘Slightly under half, then,’ said Helen.
‘Come on, Helen. It’s not like that,’ said Breen.
Helen shook her head. ‘I don’t know which of you has your head further up your own arse, sometimes,’ she said. ‘It’s not exactly a secret. Every bloody hippie in London knows about it.’
‘So young. So cynical,’ said Carmichael.
‘’K sake,’ muttered Helen.
‘Have a drink, why don’t you?’ said Carmichael.
‘I’m off the booze.’
Carmichael said, ‘Come on. Have one at least. Right now you’re as much fun as a wet toilet seat.’
Helen made a face. ‘You should slow down a little. You don’t want your girlfriend thinking you’re a soak.’
‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ said Carmichael, looking at his watch again.
When he stood to leave, Helen stood too. ‘Wait,’ she said, and loosened his tie. Then she reached up and mussed his hair. ‘You’ll be fine,’ she said.
Watching them, Breen found himself feeling a little jealous of Carmichael, going out to meet a new girl. New relationships were so much less complicated.