‘Fred Timms of Timm’s Cars,’ Brace said. ‘He was the getaway driver for the tunnel job.’
‘A fairly unmistakable character, that one,’ I said.
‘You could say that.’
There was a ripple of laughter. The inspector talked us through the essentials. We were to work in pairs and take shifts. When we saw a car going into Timm’s yard, we were to take a photo of the car and the registration number. We were to photograph anyone seen talking with Timms. We were told to keep no records, only the photos. A photographer was coming in to show us the tricks of the camera. With a quick sweep of our faces to make sure we all understood, he left us to get to know one another.
‘I’m Liz,’ said the woman beside me. ‘You must be Marj.’
Marjorie, I thought, but I wasn’t going to correct her. Everyone on the f
