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‘QUITE A REGULAR HERE now, Mr Lynch. You must be well up the legal-aid table.’ DS Lawrie laughed, sarcastically.
‘Can we get on with it, please? I’m sure we would all like to be elsewhere.’ Cal responded flippantly.
Cal’s phone had rung just as he was leaving the flat to meet Suzie. She was always so understanding when he cancelled. He had fallen for her and even mentioned the romance to his mother in a letter; maybe one day, all going well, they would pay a visit to London. His mother would like her, though he hadn’t mentioned the unfortunate connection with the past.
‘As you wish. My name is Detective Sergeant Frank Lawrie. Can you confirm your name for me?’
‘Sebastian Bradshaw-Collins,’ the man responded in a low, slurred, voice, his chin held high to reveal a wrinkled neck.
‘Mr Bradshaw-Collins, you have been detained for questioning under the Criminal Justice Scotland Act 1980. You were in Moss St, Paisley, and at around 5pm this evening you approached a female with the purpose of obtaining sexual services.’
‘This is absolutely preposterous. I was merely in conversation with the young lady.’ Sebastian reeked of whisky, his stale breath projecting across the table and his glazed eyes confirmed that he had been drinking heavily that day. He was very well presented, with a manicured beard and an expensive wool suit complemented by a silk, gold, cravat.
‘Do you know who I am? Do you have you any idea?’
Lawrie leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he glanced at Cal. ‘Surprisingly enough, no, I don’t. Please tell me, Ah’m dying to know.’
‘I am Sebastian Bradshaw-Collins. Named after my great grandfather, Ronald Bradshaw, 6th Inniskilling Dragoons who fought the Russians at the Charge of the Light Brigade.’
‘That went well, then.’
‘I am the conductor of the Sheldonian Philharmonic Orchestra, the finest in England. I have travelled the world, directed some of the greatest music ensembles and now a parvenu like you makes such a ghastly accusation. I am appalled.’
‘Sebastian, you approached a female and sought sexual favours in return for cash. The individual happened to be one of my undercover officers. This was made aware to you at the time but clearly, judging by your condition, you didn’t retain that information.’
‘I admit I may have taken some light libations.’ Sebastian swayed in the chair and saliva dripped from his large lips, though his Etonian accent remained intact. ‘I am merely in this God-forsaken town to reconnoitre the area before performing here next week. I’m bringing the master, Tchaikovsky, to the masses and I...’
‘Very good, Mr Bradshaw-Collins. You can have a night sleeping in our five-star accommodation. One of our butlers will provide you with a thick mattress and silk sheets. You’ll be charged in the morning when you’re sober enough to understand why.’
Cal signalled to Lawrie. ‘Won’t be a minute, Sebastian. I just have to speak to the detective outside.’
Lawrie leaned against the grey, concrete wall, hands in pockets. ‘This better be good, Cal. I’ve missed my boy’s birthday party for that posh prick.’
Cal folded his arms and bowed his head to the floor as he spoke in a hushed tone. It was a submissive tactic he’d used successfully on numerous occasions; it allowed the other person to feel superior while Cal always had the end game in mind and could offer a solution.
‘Remember when you charged your pal, John Faulds, with multiple reset and housebreaking? You said you were sick of chasing him about the streets and wished he’d chosen a different path.’
‘Not really the words I recall about that wee gobshite, but carry on.’
‘This Sebastian runs an orchestra, right? There’s a group of kids from the West End learning orchestral instruments hoping one day to be good enough to travel the world. What if we cut a deal with the conductor? Use his predicament to give the young ones a break, maybe get lessons off the musicians when they’re in town. The deal being you let him off with a caution. If not, I’ll insist your operation was entrapment.’ Cal raised his eyes slowly, expecting a mouth full of abuse.
‘Entrapment, my hole. You can be a right smart arse sometimes, ye know that? But on reflection, that sounds fine with me. You can tell Posh Boy the news. If he rejects it, he’ll be charged and I’ll make sure the press get his name and know all about his pervy activities. He’s still on a night’s lie in. I’m away to eat some birthday cake. The sarge will sort you out.’
With Sebastian safely tucked up in his cell for the evening, Cal signed out. He checked his watch and headed hurriedly for the door; there was still time to take Suzie for that meal.
‘Mr Lynch?’
Cal glanced over his shoulder to see a small blonde female perched over the high reception desk, her hands clasped together and her piercing blue eyes fixed on his.
‘Cal Lynch, Eddie Quinn’s brief?’
‘Yes, how can I help,’ he asked, intrigued.
‘I’d go home and get an hour’s shut-eye if I were you, maybe leave Suzie for another night. Mr Quinn has been brought in to assist us with enquiries. We will be commencing interviews with him and a whole host of others shortly, and no doubt, he’ll phone you to attend on his behalf.’ The well-dressed woman smiled, swiftly turned and disappeared behind the door.
With feigned surprise, Cal looked at Sergeant Telfer who was nervously tidying papers on the desk.