Implant (DI Gardener 3)

“Yes you do,” replied Gardener. “You’re at it again. I’ve already told you we have your phone records here.”

Gardener held up the file. “We know you’ve been talking to Sonia Knight. We know she’s Lance Hobson’s girlfriend. We also know that Alex Wilson has a connection to Lance Hobson, and so do you. What we’re struggling to piece together is why your phone calls from Sonia Knight have dried up. She hasn’t called you in a month. Until last night, that is. The very night that we find Alex Wilson’s body at the shop, and you outside it.”

Gardener had lit the touch paper again.

“What?”

The fear in Pollard’s eyes told Gardener everything he needed to know. The man was very definitely guilty of something, and it would only be a matter of time before he could determine what.

“What are you talking about, Alex Wilson’s body?”

“Let’s finally come full circle back to the shop, shall we? I’ve given you every opportunity to do so. Didn’t think I’d leave it, did you, Mr Pollard?

“You told us earlier that you hadn’t been in the shop. You were lying to us. We have evidence. Fingerprints, although in your case not all of them, shoe prints, and now Scenes of Crime tell us there is a fibre match from your clothing. Do you still maintain that you have not been inside?”

Pollard remained silent.

“We know for a fact that Alex Wilson is dead, because we found his body in the cellar below the shop.”

“Very nasty, that was, Jackie lad,” said Reilly. “Looked to me like he’d met with a terrible accident.”

“Bits of him were missing,” said Gardener. “Areas that had been stitched up...”

“Just a minute.” Pollard was on his feet quickly, and the chair fell over once more.

Reilly was soon up as well. “We’ve told you, no more standing. Pick that chair up, and do it now!”

The cocky attitude had all but left Pollard as he quickly did what he was told. “I’ve killed no one.”

“Doesn’t look like that to us,” said Gardener. “From the information we have, we reckon you’ve been plotting something with Sonia Knight, something involving Lance Hobson’s right-hand man, Alex Wilson. She takes a month out, and then phones you to tell you it’s all on, and you do the deed.”

“It’s not like that,” shouted Pollard.

“No, maybe it isn’t,” replied Gardener. “Maybe you’ve already done away with Knight, and that was someone else phoning you tonight.”

“I haven’t done anything to Sonia Knight. How many more times? I haven’t killed anybody.” Pollard stared at them.

“Go on,” said Reilly.

“I haven’t seen Knight for a month. I have no idea where she is. She suddenly stopped contacting me. I don’t know, maybe Hobson found out, and he’s sorted her out.”

“In which case, you’ll be next,” said Reilly. “Maybe we should stop worrying, boss. We’ll just leave Hobson to sort this scum out for us.”

“I’m not so sure, Sean.” Gardener glanced at his partner. “Hobson couldn’t have butchered Alex Wilson. Why would he? They were close friends.”

“Which leaves us with you again.” Reilly stared at Pollard.

“It’s not me, I swear. I might be a lot of things, but I’m not a murderer.”

“So, what were you doing outside the shop, and who called you on Knight’s phone?”

“I don’t know,” shouted Pollard, slamming his fists on the table.

“What did they say?” demanded Gardener.

“Not much. They just said if I went to the shop, I would see someth

ing to my advantage.”