Impurity (DI Gardener 1)

“Olive Bradshaw?”

“Aye, that’s her.”

“Were they friendly?”

“Sometimes.”

“Enough to suggest a relationship?”

Sutton nodded. “I’d say so. They weren’t always together. Sometimes he were with Thornwell, sometimes her. Before her brother popped his clogs, they all used to come in. There were summat funny going on there.”

“Something funny?” inquired Gardener, his curiosity piqued.

“Nowt I could put me finger on, just summat odd. Wouldn’t surprise me if they were all in films. Granny Sex, or summat like it. I don’t know. Ask anybody in the pub, they’ll all tell you.”

Gardener was about to ask another question when Sutton continued speaking. “And then there were that freak! Ugly bastard he were.”

“Who are you talking about now?” Gardener’s skin suddenly started to itch.

“Oh, Christ! What were his name? Felix; that’s it. Felix – face full of warts.”

Gardener froze. A whole year had passed without a sighting of Warthead and, suddenly, two references within two days. “Face full of warts? Can you tell me anything else about him?”

Sutton shrugged. “There’s not much more to say. He’s about five feet tall, maybe nineteen or twenty, funny shaped head. Face full of warts.”

“You ever hear him talk?”

“Yeah.”

“Cockney accent?” pressed Gardener.

“No. Yorkshire.”

Gardener was momentarily knocked off balance. What had happened to the cockney accent? Perhaps it was a put on. Gardener’s problem suddenly escalated. If Warthead was local, how had he managed to evade him? Especially with a face like his?

“How was he usually dressed?”

“A fancy jacket. Black leather, gold eagle on the back. Some American slogan. Can’t really remember.”

“Genuine article? You wouldn’t buy it in England?”

“I doubt it.”

“Do you know anything else about Felix? Where he lived?”

“No, all I know is what I’ve told you. I only ever saw him about three times, but him and Plum were as thick as thieves when I did see them.”

“Have you seen him in the pub recently?”

“No, last time were before Plum were killed.”

Gardener’s skin crawled, his guts churned. “Did you ever see Felix with anyone else other than Plum?”

“No.”

“Not Thornwell?”

Sutton paused. “No, never with Thornwell.”