More Than Meets the Eye by J. M. Gregson Page A

that this was true. His tale sounded like fiction, even in his own ears. And very unconvincing fiction. ‘It sounds daft because it’s true. If I’d made something up, it would have been more convincing than that.’
    Another elaborate sigh. ‘Would it, indeed? Let’s pursue this fairytale of yours for a minute or two, then. You had in the pocket of your jeans cocaine rocks with a retail value of around five hundred pounds. Who was going to be the grateful recipient of this valuable little package?’
    â€˜I can’t say that. I’m not a grass.’
    Grey-suit gave him a withering smile, then turned a more affable one upon his uniformed companion. ‘The man seems to be admitting these drugs were for his own use, Constable. Criminal offence in its own right. Perhaps we should just throw the book at him for that and have done with it. We’ve wasted enough time on the little slug, if you ask me.’
    Whilst the uniformed man grunted affirmatively, Alex wondered desperately what he was to do. He couldn’t grass on Matt Garton, not if he had to go on working alongside him in the gardens. But these men said he wouldn’t be doing that, even though he desperately wanted to. He took a decision. ‘I was to pass the package to Matt Garton, who works with me. The drugs were already paid for, which was why no money changed hands. The package was handed to me when I went out for a breath of fresh air at the back of the pub, after I’d been to the Gents.’
    Uniform made a note of the name. Grey-suit continued to look at Fraser contemptuously. ‘Describe the man who supplied you.’
    â€˜He was young. Younger than I am. And he was nervous. I don’t reckon he’s been dealing for long.’
    â€˜Oh. This man with no experience thinks he can recognize a new dealer when he sees one, Constable. Perhaps we should consider recruiting him to the Drug Squad.’ They both chuckled inordinately at this suggestion. Then grey-suit said sternly, ‘You will be returned to your cell now. We shall decide later in the day exactly what charges to proffer. Probably you will then be released and told not to leave the area without informing us.’
    They were gone as abruptly as they had arrived, leaving him to contemplate a future which seemed to become bleaker with each passing hour.

SEVEN
    W estbourne Park, despite the ever-increasing numbers which move around the house and its acres, remains for the residents a very private home.
    It is a quiet, cheerful place before ten a.m. At this time, the resident staff, particularly the gardeners, get on with their work without an audience. Once the gates open at ten, the workers who come in daily to staff the shop and restaurant and to act as guides take up their posts and are fully occupied. But they leave with the public at six o’clock. Westbourne then becomes once again a quiet and private place.
    Alex Fraser, released after his grilling in the police interview room at Cheltenham, was grateful for the peace and the privacy of Westbourne. He hadn’t enjoyed the inevitable interview with Dennis Cooper which his conduct had caused, but he tried not to think about that. He threw all his energy into his work in the gardens. He didn’t talk much with the men around him, though he was well aware that Matt Garton had been taken in for questioning after Alex’s revelations about the cocaine package.
    No one accused him, but he was aware that the other young men who worked alongside him in the gardens watched him now with a new reserve. Never the most articulate of groups, they nevertheless made him feel now that he was an outsider. His accent and background had always set him apart; now the fact that he had been forced to reveal Garton to the police as a drug user made them even more cautious about him. Alex didn’t much mind this; he felt shaken and he needed to regroup, to decide what he was to do about his