Implant (DI Gardener 3)

Graham edged up the volume. The DJ had finished talking to his contestants and started on a first-round question, which was considered easy. “How is Elaine Bookbinder better known?”

Graham pointed to the brothers. “And your answer is?”

The brothers were clueless. They simply shrugged their shoulders.

“It’s Elkie Brooks,” said Graham, delighted that he was right when the DJ confirmed the answer.

The brothers relaxed for the rest of the quiz and earned themselves tw

o biscuits each. All three had laughed about what they did and didn’t know, though that wasn’t much in Graham’s case. The final question however, earned the ginger ringers – as he’d nicknamed them – some real respect, because Graham was stumped.

“Whose stabbed head appears on the front cover of her first solo album?”

Excitedly, one of them shouted, “I know that.” He even put his hand in the air.

“Go on, then, clever-clogs,” replied Graham.

“Debbie Harry. My dad has that album.”

“Give that man a medal,” shouted Graham, switching off the radio. “So, now you’ve redeemed yourself, and eaten half my biscuits, let’s get down to some serious business. What’s wrong with the laptop?”

Expressions grew serious. “We don’t know,” said one.

Graham pulled out a job sheet. The shop may have a resembled the aftermath of an explosion, but he still worked to a system, and that meant crossing the ‘t’s and dotting the ‘i’s.

“Okay, suppose you guys take it from the top. Tell me your names, addresses, and phone numbers. I’ll take down all the details, and we’ll see what we can do.”

Although he’d discovered they were called Richard and Roland, he couldn’t tell them apart to save his life, so he didn’t address either of them personally. After he’d filled in the form, he continued with the questions.

“So where and when did you start to have problems?”

They seemed to take it in turns to answer. “Yesterday,” replied one of the boys.

“What happened?”

“We were on the Internet,” said the other.

“Doing what?” asked Graham. Neither wanted to answer that one.

“Come on, you’ll have to tell me eventually. You know I’ll find out anyway.”

“It’s not our computer, mister.”

“What? You mean you’ve stolen it?”

“No, it’s our dad’s.”

“And where’s your dad?”

“Away on business.”

“Till when?” Graham asked.

“Saturday.”

“And let me guess, he has no idea you’ve been using it.”

“Well, he knows, he said we could do our homework on it.”