Where There's A Will

Chapter Five

Stone ascended to the fifth floor of the grandly named Harper Tower two steps at a time, ignoring, as best he could, the smell of urine that filled the stairwell. He would have preferred to take the lift, but it was out of order, and by the time he got to the fifth floor he was out of breath, though not as much as he would have been before he quit smoking.

"Come on," he said to his partner once he had recovered.

Together, he and Burke made their way along to flat seven, where they took up positions on either side of the door. They didn't expect trouble, despite why they were there, but they still had sense enough not to stand in front of the door; after all, a shotgun had been used in the robbery, and such a weapon could be fired straight through the door. Neither of them wanted to get shot, if it should turn out that the Logan brothers were behind the robbery, and were reluctant to go back to prison.

"Ben, Jerry," Burke called out after knocking twice without getting an answer. "It's the police – open up."

It was almost two minutes before the detectives heard shuffling footsteps and a voice that grumbled and swore as it approached the door. Finally, the door swung open to reveal a half-asleep Ben Logan. "What the fuck d'you want?" he mumbled in a sleep-filled voice as he held the door and looked from DI Stone to DS Burke.

"Morning, Ben," Stone greeted the criminal. "Can we come in?" Without waiting for an answer, he stepped forward and eased past Ben, who made no attempt to stop him entering the flat. "Is Jerry here?"

Knowing it would do him no good to protest the intrusion, since he was on license, Ben pushed the door closed behind the detectives and followed them into the living room.

"Is Jerry here?" Stone repeated his question.

"Not a bloody clue," Ben said with an indifferent shrug. "I was asleep 'til you buggers banged on the door. If he ain't in his room, then no, he ain't." He dropped gracelessly onto the sofa, where he looked as though he would quite happily go back to sleep.

Stone gestured for his partner to have a look for the absent Logan brother; while Burke did that he settled in the armchair near the door and looked around for any sign that the Logans had been doing anything they shouldn't. He didn't really expect to see anything, Ben wasn't quite that stupid, but it was always possible that Jerry, who was not as much into thinking as his brother, had left something incriminating laying around.

"Why're you here?" Ben wanted to know, without seeming all that interested in the answer.

"Why don't we wait for your brother before we get into that," Stone suggested.

"What the fuck d'you want?"

The harshly voiced question alerted Stone to the arrival of Jerry Logan, who, like his brother, was clad only in a pair of boxer shorts. "Morning, Jerry," Stone greeted him. "Sorry to wake you."

"Yeah, I bet you are," Jerry said sarcastically. As he dropped onto the sofa next to his brother he asked, "What do these jokers want?"

"No idea, they ain't said," Ben told him.

"I see you've got a new tattoo, Jerry," Stone remarked, gesturing at the eagle on the side of his neck.

"I got a few," Jerry responded. "What of it?"

"Nothing," Stone said, "except a couple of guys held up a pavilion at the Rock Radio Music Festival last night, and one of them had a tattoo matching that new bit of ink on the side of your neck."

"Big deal, I'm sure there's plenty of guys with the same ink; I picked it from the catalogue."

"But how many of them have it where you have yours, and have a record for armed robbery?"

Jerry shrugged. "How the hell should I know?"

"Is that why you're here?" Ben wanted to know, amused. "'cause someone saw a tattoo like my brother's at a robbery."

Stone didn't respond to that, instead he said. "Do you mind if we have a look around?"

"What for? D'you think you're gonna find a stack of cash and a coupla sawn-offs just laying around?"

Stone smiled at Jerry, while his brother scowled at him ferociously. "I never said anything about shotguns, or guns of any kind, did I?" he asked of Burke, who thus far had remained silent.

"Not that I heard," Burke said. "Why would you think we'd be looking for sawn-offs?" he asked of Jerry, who, with a look at his brother, remained silent. "It's funny that you should mention shotguns, though, because the pair last night were carrying sawn-offs. Maybe he's psychic," he suggested to his partner.

"Maybe," Stone said, matching his partner's smile. "Are you psychic, Jerry?"

"I don't think he can be psychic," Burke ventured.

"Why's that?"

"Well, if he was psychic, he'd have known we were coming," Burke said. "And he'd have either been somewhere else or dressed, at the least he'd have been in better boxers, instead of those stupid Simpsons things."

Stone nodded. "Very true. I guess you're not psychic after all, Jerry, so why mention shotguns, especially sawn-offs?" His gaze shifted from the resolutely silent Jerry to Ben, who was trying to look innocent, and not at all angry with his brother. "How about you, Ben, do you know why Jerry brought up sawn-offs?"

"How the hell should I know?" Ben snapped irritably. "You know what an idiot Jez can be, always talking about stupid shit." For a moment Jerry looked as though he was going to protest, but he held his tongue when he saw the warning look in his brother's eyes. "If you're gonna search the place, get on and do it. You're not gonna find anything."