29

It was dawn. The sun was coming up and shining through the window of our cell. It was our cell now, it had always been our cell, Harry’s and mine; we were a team, an unbeatable team. I was lying on my back with my hands behind my head looking at the ceiling, grey-white cracked plaster, and thinking, reviewing what might lay before me that day and working out how I was going to slide from under the avalanche of corruption that was about to fall on me. I worked out step by step what I would do if I was investigating this killing; what would I want to know and what would I want to find? The whys, the whens, the hows, the whos and wheres. Some were obvious but the obvious for me, as an investigator, would beg other questions. Now, how could I screw the investigators?

‘Okay, what is it?’ Harry asked.

‘I was just wondering.’

‘And what were you just bloody wondering?’ said the voice from the bunk below me.

‘How’d you know I was lying here wondering?’

‘I can tell from your breathing when you’re awake and you only ever sleep on your side so you’re lying on your back stock still, so you’re bloody thinking and when you start thinking, somebody, probably me, is in the crap.’

‘Harry, you’ve people who have access to the prison officers’ offices, locker rooms, etc.?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘So they might know where particular prison officers’ lockers, desks and things are?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘And they’ve the razor and ice pick?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘So they could put them somewhere that wouldn’t be in view but if a search was made they might be found?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘You’re big on the “uh-huh” this morning, Sergeant.’ I was smiling but Harry couldn’t see that.

‘Why on earth would the screws’ offices and locker room be searched?’

‘Because I’m going to suggest it when I’m interviewed, probably this morning.’

‘Christ, Captain, you don’t give us much bloody warning do you? Moorby and Manson?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Now your bloody uh-huh-ing.’

‘Uh-huh.’

I heard him chuckle.

‘Harry.’

‘Yes, Captain.’

‘What was all that palaver with the showers?’

He laughed. ‘Two reasons, Captain. The first was to keep you focused. You were so busy buggering about with showers you didn’t have time to freeze. The second reason was that the police are going to find wet showers and running showers and it’ll just create confusion as they try to figure out the murder scene. They’ll come up with a theory to fit the facts but it won’t make sense.’

‘How do you know this stuff?’

‘Because I’ve been a criminal longer than you’ve been a copper, Captain.’

He was right and the conversation had made me relaxed enough to fall back to sleep.

That morning, Harry and I walked to the dining room for breakfast and other prisoners cleared away from us. If they couldn’t be clear they pressed themselves against the walls. We ignored it as if it wasn’t happening but the screws saw it and the screws knew. The prison was silent. No, that’s an over-statement; it was quiet. The rumour mill was grinding away. Again, I was in the frame, but it was all much more speculative. It varied from suggesting that I’d set a trap for them and murdered them to the nearer reality; they had tried to rape me and failed. The spilt was also interesting; the ex-acolytes of Mr Wharton were supporting the trap and murder theory and the uncommitted and The Brothers were supporting the rape theory. My concern was civil war in the prison. The prison authorities and officers were edgy.

Harry slipped in next to me at breakfast. I was eating a classic, a meal I thoroughly enjoyed that went under the extremely unappetising name of shit on a raft. The cooks of course call it sautéed kidney. It was chopped up kidneys cooked in a thick brown sauce and served on a doorstep of crisp deep-fried bread. Well, the fried bread was crisp until the sauce started soaking into it. It sounds disgusting but tasted wonderful. It also did wonders for bowel movements, which is probably why it was only served once a month.

‘I don’t know how you can eat that shit,’ he said.

‘It’s great. Try some.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding. I’m pleased to see you’ve recovered. You’ll be okay now. Anyway, the project is underway and from what The Brothers say, they think this is a great scam and have a couple of really good places to position the treasure for the treasure hunters to find.’

Arthur, Dad, Flash and Boy said nothing and I knew they would swear on a stack of Bibles they’d heard nothing. Boy Pritchard had started to sit at our table – security and protection, I suppose, for warning me.