Implant (DI Gardener 3)

“Go on.”

“The stitching. It’s clean, looks reasonably professional...”

Cragg popped his head round the door and interrupted the two detectives.

“Thought you might like to know, the computer’s just pulled up pre-cons for Jackie Pollard. Amongst other things he was a trainee doctor, thrown out of the NHS for stealing drugs.

Chapter Fifteen

Albert Armitage was already seated by the time Gardener and Reilly stepped into the room they were using to conduct interviews. Gardener would have preferred more comfortable surroundings for the old man, but they had decided to use a standard cell with recording equipment. Other than a table and four chairs, there was very little else.

Armitage stood, raised his hand and tipped his hat. “Good morning to you, Mr Gardener.”

He was dressed in a camel hair coat that seemed as if it had been bought only yesterday, but Gardener thought otherwise. He was the same height as him, but more chunkily built, with grey hair, grey eyes, and a grey moustache. Although he had a nose and a mouth like everyone else, his face seemed featureless. His gestures, however, said to Gardener that they probably had a real character on their hands.

“You too, Mr Armitage.”

Both detectives shook hands with him before taking a seat.

“I apologise for the hospitality,” said Gardener. “You are not under arrest, but we would like to record the conversation if you’re okay with that.”

“I have nothing to hide, Mr Gardener,” replied Armitage, his arms folded.

Armitage removed the expensive camel hair coat and was now dressed as if ready to open his shop. He wore a beige-coloured smock that bore the stains of his trade: grease, paint, and oil to name but a few. Underneath the overalls, Gardener noticed grey trousers, and a pair of black brogue shoes.

“I appreciate that,” said Gardener. “It’s possible you’ll say something that we might later have to come back to.”

“No doubt I will, Mr Gardener. I must say I wouldn’t like your job.”

“There are times when we don’t like it, but it’s not all doom and gloom. We have our fair share of rewards along the way.”

Armitage simply nodded, as if there was little else to add. For a seventy-year-old man, he was doing well. His grey hair was still thick and wavy. He had very few lines on his face. From what Gardener could tell, his teeth were his own. His physique suggested he didn’t miss many meals either. Not that he was fat, more hale and hearty.

Gardener started the tapes and introduced Reilly, then asked Armitage about his life and the shop.

Armitage turned the tables almost immediately. “Mr Gardener, are you going to tell me what’s happened?”

“In good time, Mr Armitage.”

“You drag me out of bed quite early this morning and I’ve been here for some time now, but you don’t tell me what’s going on? I think that’s a little unfair.”

“To be fair, you’re here of your own free will. We haven’t kept you, but we do have good reasons for not telling you anything at the moment,” replied Reilly.

“I’m sure you do,” Armitage said with a sigh.

He kept his arms folded. Gardener suspected he was holding up well and would probably continue to do so, even when he found out who and what was in his basement.

“You can see for yourself, Mr Gardener. My place would be well-suited to Last of the Summer Wine, or Open All Hours. It’s a very old-fashioned place, and it’s run the way I like it. The way my father used to run it before me.”

“How long has the business been there?” asked Gardener.

“Since 1939. Despite being old enough to join the war effort, my father was not fit. He was turned down by the Army. That was a blow to him. He wanted to serve king and country. He told me many a time that he and my grandfather used to talk often, and it was his father’s dream to run his own business, selling tools and everyday items. Stuff that people were always going to want. When my grandfather died, he left my father a tidy little nest egg, enough to buy that place and live out the dream.”

“When did you join him?”

“When I was fifteen, straight out of school. It’s all I’ve ever known, and I know it well.”

“Has it always been you?” asked Gardener. “No partners?”