Impurity (DI Gardener 1)

“He was always polite, always said ‘Good morning, my dear.’ Knew his manners, he did. Brought up properly. Not like kids these days. I blame the parents, myself. They’re always hanging about on street corners now, up to no good. It’s about time your lot brought the bobby on the beat back.” To Mabel she said, “Mrs Watson’s eldest is in trouble again.”

“Craig? He’s never been any good, that one. Never amount to anything,” Mabel replied.

“Can we stick to the point, please?” Gardener asked.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Inspector. Where was I?”

“Trying to establish some facts about Herbert Plum. What did he look like, Miss Bradshaw?”

“I’ve got a picture somewhere.”

She left the table and went into another room. Gardener studied the impressive range of oil paintings. Little could be seen of the wallpaper. Each wall had a theme: country scenes, stormy seascapes, old world inns, and animals and children.

“Here we go,” Olive said as she returned. She sat and passed him a photo. Four people posed at a seaside resort. Olive and Mabel, each holding candy floss, stood between two men.

“That’s our brother on the left. Herbert is on the far right.”

“When was this taken?”

“A few weeks before our brother died. He’d taken us all to Scarborough for the day.”

Gardener stared at the photo. Portly, Plum stood at around sixteen stone. His brown hair was combed from left to right across his head, streaked with flecks of grey. His small brown eyes stood out in a fat, round face.

“I’d like to take this with me.”

“It’s the only one I have, Inspector.”

“All I want is a copy, you can have it back.”

Olive nodded. Gardener passed it to Reilly, then pressed on.

“How was he with the other tenants?”

“As I said, always pleasant.”

Gardener noticed her glazed expression. “You weren’t aware of any disagreements, then?”

“None that I know of. Why? Has someone said something?”

“I spoke to one of your other tenants earlier, Nicki…”

The snapping alligator reared its ugly head, cutting him off. “You don’t want to listen to her! She’s got too much to say for herself, that one! I don’t know who she thinks she is. Barely sixteen with a baby, on the social. Pinching everything she can get from the state. Visitors at all hours! I’ve heard ’em, creeping down the stairs. You don’t want to go listening to her, she’s no manners. She’s no example for that baby. She takes drugs!”

“Do you know that for certain? Have you actually seen her taking them?”

“I don’t have to. I’ve seen her arms.”

Gardener was beginning to build a picture of contradiction, something he didn’t relish, despite it happening with almost every case.

She continued her tirade. “It’s shocking the way they take these drugs nowadays. No respect for their bodies, or anyone else. It wouldn’t have happened in our day. We’d have had it knocked out of us, and no mistake. I think I’ll have words with her.” She glanced at her sister. “When I think of the problems that filth causes, it makes my blood boil. It really does. Mrs O’Connor’s daughter’s into drugs, you know? Still, she’s going to pay the price. Used a dirty needle last year, now she’s got that HRT thing. Serves her right, that’s what I say.”

“Let’s get back to Herbert Plum. Where did he shop?”

“He wasn’t very well organized. Never did a weekly shop, just picked stuff up when he needed it. He always used the Co-op, round the corner. And I’ve often seen those takeaway delivery vehicles in and out of here.”

“Did he walk, or did he have a car?”

“No car. Walked most places.”