Kath had been briefed by Gibbs about what she should say, but it was almost impossible to get a word in edgeways.
‘The car park is part of the reason I’m here,’ she said.
‘Have the other shopkeepers complained to you about it as well? I rarely see or speak to them now. I only open up on odd days and pop in early Sunday morning to get stock. Arnie and me lived in the flat above the Shoreditch shop when we first got married. Horrible place – the smell of the curries from next door used to come through and stink our shop out.’
‘I thought it was a hardware shop next door?’ Kath remarked.
‘It is, but the home cooking of the Pakis stank, not to mention the smell from the fat Greek’s café as well. Anyway, after Arnie passed away I rented the flat out until recently. The tenants were more trouble than they were worth, always complaining that this or that didn’t work. We bought this place and opened the shop downstairs. It’s much more upmarket round here. I shouldn’t say it, but the truth is I sell the same shoes for a much higher price and no one who buys a pair bats an eyelid.’
Kath leaned forwards. ‘Please, Mrs Ide, I don’t wish to appear rude but I have to get back to the station soon.’
‘You should have said… anyway, how can I help you?’
‘Well, a high number of quality cars have been stolen from the multistorey car park recently and we think it’s a professional gang who steal to order, change the plates and sell the vehicles on.’
‘I thought there was an attendant in a kiosk during the day?’
Kath had to think quickly and lied. ‘We think he’s part of the gang. If you are agreeable we’d like to put a surveillance team in the upstairs of your shop for a few days as it’s directly opposite the car park. Hopefully that way we can catch them all.’
‘Oh I see. Will you need me there?’
‘No, not at all. Your property will be treated with respect and securely locked when the officers leave.’
Hebe inhaled, and then, deep in thought, perched on the arm of the chair by her poodle.
‘Yes I’m agreeable. I’m hardly there and the shop is not worth opening really, and I guess my van will be safe while your lot are there,’ she said, removing a set of keys from her handbag and handing them to Kath who thanked her.
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Of course you can,’ Kath replied.
‘Well, obviously with the police using the shop I can’t open, so I wondered if there will be any form of compensation for loss of my earnings?’
Kath was flummoxed and didn’t know what to say, but she replied that she’d ask her DCI.
Whilst Kath was visiting Hebe Ide, DS Gibbs and another detective were at the multistorey car park hoping to find out what sort of view it gave and if there were any signs that someone had been camping out up there at night.
During the day there was a so-called security guard manning the exit. He wasn’t very helpful and said that as it was a Saturday hardly anyone used the car park, so it was only open 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. He grumbled that it was a waste of time him being there but as he got time-and-a-half pay it was worth it.
Once the guard had stopped complaining, Gibbs and DC Hudson, posing as business executives, asked if company cars could be left overnight. He said that it was up to them, but as there was no security on duty anyone could come and go from the car park during the night. He moaned about winos and junkies using the ground-floor stairwell to sleep in and told them the stench of urine was overpowering. He didn’t bother showing the officers around, claiming he had arthritis and couldn’t walk up the slopes or stairwell and the lift was out of action. Hudson drove the unmarked police car from floor to floor. When they reached the top they were in two minds about getting out as the wind was howling, and it was freezing cold. Gibbs pulled rank so young DC Hudson begrudgingly got out of the car and had a good look round before returning.
‘You find anything interesting?’ Gibbs asked as Hudson got back in the car.
‘You get a fantastic view of all the surrounding streets and shops, right across Shoreditch and the City as well. I could even see St Paul’s and the Post Office Tower – wish I’d brought me camera.’
‘I meant anything interesting to the investigation, you dope, Hudson.’
Hudson opened his hand. ‘Over there, the bit where you can see the café clearly, I found these discarded cannabis roaches and the faintest trace of what look like wheelchair marks in the grit. There’s some discarded chocolate-bar wrappers and an empty tin of Shandy Bass as well.’
Gibbs sighed. ‘Bloody well go and get ’em then, they may give us some fingerprints.’
Hudson pulled up his duffle-coat collar, climbed out of the car again and did as he was asked.
