During the whole of the incident in Tungate Street the street had been completely deserted, but now, when Gently went back for his car, the place was crowded with sightseers. The bikes had not yet been taken away and were being guarded by two uniform men, and on the spot where Baynes had lain bleeding some sawdust had been hastily strewn. The two reporters from the courtroom had got there and had been joined by a photographer. His flashbulb hissed as Gently came up and the two reporters jumped in eagerly.
‘Can you give us a statement, Superintendent?’
‘Try Inspector Setters,’ Gently said.
‘But this is your car — you were here when it happened?’
‘No comment,’ Gently said.
‘What was the name of the wounded man?’
‘No comment,’ Gently said.
‘Is it true that this connects with the Lister case?’
‘I’ll give you a statement later,’ Gently said.
‘Then we can assume there is a connection?’
‘No comment,’ Gently said.
He pushed them aside, got in his car, backed off the kerb, and drove away. The crowd parted to let him through, each one peering to get a glimpse of him. At Police H.Q. there was another crowd, more reporters and photographers. He shouldered through them, head down, deaf to the fresh questions flung at him.
Setters was sitting alone in his office, his face pale, trembling still. He didn’t look up when Gently came in. His hand was resting on his telephone.
‘They’ve got him up in the hospital,’ he said. ‘Simpson is with him. They’re giving him a transfusion. It just happens he’s one of those types that keep on bleeding. It could be fatal to him. Simpson’s in the same group.’
‘That’s the way things happen,’ Gently said.
Setters looked at him. His eyes were glittering.
‘You didn’t hit that bloody slob hard enough,’ he said. ‘He’s spewing his guts up in the cell. Christ, if he’d come at me with a knife!’
Gently gave him a slow nod.
‘I’m not responsible,’ Setters said. ‘When a slob like that cuts loose with a knife I don’t want law. I stop being a cop.’
‘Did you pick up the knife?’ Gently asked.
Setters pointed to a scrap of paper on the desk. Folded in it was the bloodied flick-knife with some dirt and fluff stuck to the blade. It was a common pattern and appeared to be new. It had a fibre handle with diamond embossings.
‘Could that have been bought locally?’ Gently asked.
Setters shrugged faintly. ‘I’ll check it,’ he said. ‘I could bloody weep. I’m no good as a cop. I think for sure I’d have killed that slob.’
‘You wouldn’t have killed him,’ Gently said.
‘Look at me,’ Setters said. ‘Look at the way I’m shaking. I’m a Detective Inspector, me, I’ve got thirty years’ service. And I’m just finding out I’ve got murder in me.’
‘Not murder,’ Gently said. ‘Blind hate, that’s all.’
‘Murder,’ Setters said. ‘Murder. I know what I feel. When I saw him go for you with that knife I wanted to smash the life out of him. I wanted to do it then and there. And I’d have done it, I’m bloody certain.’
Gently shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t be talking about it now,’ he said. ‘The ones who’ll do it don’t talk about it. They only talk with their hands.’
Setters looked at his hands. He moved the fingers, crooking them.
‘I could bloody weep,’ he repeated. He jammed his hands into his pockets.
Gently sat on the desk, filled his pipe, gave one or two puffs.
‘Did you notice who slipped Bixley the knife?’ he asked.
‘Nope,’ Setters said. ‘I was bawling into the R.T. It must have been after they pulled out Brewer, after the window was smashed.’
‘Brewer didn’t see it?’
‘Didn’t have a chance,’ Setters said. ‘Baynes must have seen it slipped, but we can’t talk to him. How would he have recognized him, anyway, when the slob had a mask?’
‘He might have said something,’ Gently said. ‘Baynes might have recognized the voice.’
‘Yes,’ Setters said. ‘There’s a chance of that. And we’ll get whoever it was if I have to use a rack on them. I want that chummie in the dock along with Bixley.’
‘There’ll be no prints on that handle,’ Gently said. ‘But we might be able to trace the purchase.’
Setters gave the knife a glare. ‘I don’t think it was bought here,’ he said. ‘There’s only two shops would sell them, and I keep an eye on what they stock. It’s ten years since we had any knife business in Latchford. Maybe you can buy them in Castlebridge.’
‘You can buy them in Bethnal,’ Gently said.
‘Yes,’ Setters said, ‘that sounds more likely. But I’ll check, don’t worry. I want every screw in Bixley’s coffin. And I’m telling you this, too. I’ve forgotten that Elton ever existed. Just nail that Lister job on Bixley, and Elton can go chase his tail.’
Gently smiled distantly, puffing. ‘I may oblige with that,’ he said.
‘He’s the chummie,’ Setters said. ‘I can see it now, the murdering slob. Elton was just a mixed-up kid, he didn’t have it in him to kill. But Bixley’s a killer, a filthy killer. He did that job, and he’s going to swing.’
‘Yes,’ Gently said, ‘it was subtle.’
‘Subtle my foot,’ Setters snarled. ‘Just subtle him along to the eight o’clock walk, that’s subtle enough for a thug like him.’
The phone belted. Setters snatched it.
‘It’s for you,’ he said. ‘I’m crossing my fingers.’
It was Pagram on the other end, he was sounding smooth and allusive. Gently moved his pipe across and kept puffing while he listened.
‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘Thank you. My congratulations to Narcotics.’ He paused some puffs. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Just send the report up by dispatch.’
He hung up. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Another screw for Bixley’s coffin. His cousin came clean after an all-night session, and we’ve chapter and verse for the dope-peddling charge.’
‘Fine,’ Setters said. ‘But it’s not enough, now.’
‘Mmn,’ Gently nodded. ‘It’s the link we wanted. It was only surmise up till now, but now the surmise is proved. We’ve got a motive for the Lister killing. Lister was interfering with the trade.’
‘They won’t hang him on the motive,’ Setters said.
‘No,’ Gently said, ‘but we’ve got our link.’ He went on smoking, looking at the knife. ‘We’ve got to clinch it now,’ he said.
‘So?’ Setters said.
Gently rose from the desk. ‘I’ll back a hunch,’ he said. ‘Have them send in Hallman for a little chat. I’m guessing he knows as much as anybody.’
Hallman was sent in. He wasn’t looking very happy. He’d got a bruise on his cheek and a strip of plaster on his chin. He’d got plaster on his hand as well, across the lower palm of his left hand. He was trying to stare at people defiantly. He wasn’t managing it too well.
‘Sit down, Hallman,’ Gently said, pointing to the chair they’d placed for him. This time the chair was close to the desk and only the light from the window fell on it. Setters had kept sitting behind the desk. Gently had resumed his perch on it. He had refilled his pipe and was now lighting it, talking with his pipe in his mouth.
Hallman sat, clasping his hands between his legs. Gently put out his match, puffed, looked at Hallman.
‘You’ve hurt your hand,’ Gently said to him.
Hallman clasped it a bit tighter.
‘Is it badly cut?’ Gently said.
Hallman didn’t give an answer.
Gently went on surveying him mildly, giving regular, thoughtful, puffs. He clasped his hands round one knee, leaning a little closer to Hallman.
‘You’re in a bit of trouble, Hallman,’ he said. ‘I think you’re going to get sent to jail. We know quite a lot about you and Bixley, more than you’re giving us credit for. You know what I’m talking about, Hallman?’
Hallman kneaded his clasped hands.
‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘You’re in pretty deep. So it’s no use your hiding that hand up.’
‘I ain’t hiding it up,’ Hallman said, but without displaying his hand.
‘How did you cut it?’ Gently asked.
‘It ain’t cut,’ Hallman said.
Gently stuck out his hand. ‘Show it to me,’ he said.
‘It ain’t cut,’ Hallman persisted. ‘Like I tore it on something.’
‘On what?’
Hallman pulled on his hands, writhed his shoulders from side to side.
‘On my handlebars,’ he said. ‘Yuh, on my handlebars, that’s what.’
‘You’ve got something sharp on your handlebars?’
‘Yuh, something,’ Hallman said. ‘Like I threw my bike down quick and cotched my hand on something.’
‘Are you left-handed?’ Gently asked.
‘No,’ Hallman said. ‘Right-handed, I am.’
‘So you threw your bike down to your right — yet you tore your left hand.’
‘Yuh,’ Hallman said. ‘Yuh, that’s how I did it. Yuh.’
‘You’re a poor liar,’ Gently said.
‘Yuh, it ain’t a lie,’ Hallman said.
Gently puffed smoke over his head. ‘Remember I was there,’ he said. ‘I was watching you, Hallman. I saw every move you made. It was you who smashed the window with a brick. It was the rear window on the car’s right. Then you had to reach in and forward to unlock it, and you used your left hand to do that. You’ve got a clean cut on your palm, Hallman. You cut it on the jagged edge of the window.’
‘No, I never,’ Hallman said. ‘Like on my handlebars I did it. Nor I didn’t throw no brick, you didn’t see me do that.’
‘Perhaps you weren’t there?’ Gently said.
‘Yuh,’ Hallman said, ‘I was there.’
‘You’re sure of that?’ Gently said.
‘Yuh,’ Hallman said. ‘Yuh.’
Gently flipped open the paper on the desk, revealed the knife with its blood and dirt. He just held his finger on the paper for a moment, watching Hallman stare at the knife.
‘What would that be?’ Gently asked.
Hallman swallowed. ‘That’s a blade,’ he said.
‘What blade would it be?’ Gently asked.
‘Yuh, I don’t know,’ Hallman said.
‘You don’t know?’ Gently asked.
‘I ain’t never seen it,’ Hallman said. ‘Yuh, never seen it I haven’t. I don’t know nothing about that.’
‘You aren’t trying,’ Gently said.
‘It’s true what I’m saying,’ Hallman said. ‘I ain’t never had a blade, nor I don’t know nothing about that one.’
‘Somebody got hurt,’ Gently said. ‘You know about that, don’t you, Hallman? He’s in the hospital, Hallman. He’s having a blood transfusion. And he may not recover from it, Hallman. That knife there may have killed him. So that will make it murder, Hallman. That will make it capital murder.’
‘I tell you I ain’t never seen that blade — I didn’t do it!’ Hallman yelped.
‘But you know who did do it,’ Gently said. ‘Who was it stuck this knife into Baynes?’
‘I never saw that!’
‘Yes, you did,’ Gently said. ‘You were right on the spot when it happened.’
‘Sid,’ Hallman said, ‘he was sitting next to Baynes.’
Gently nodded. ‘But where did Sid get the knife from?’ he asked.
Hallman twisted about on the chair. ‘How should I know?’ he said. ‘I didn’t have no part in that — it’s the truth, I never!’
‘Who gave you that knife?’ Gently asked.
‘Nobody didn’t give it to me.’
‘Who gave you that knife?’ Gently asked.
‘I ain’t never seen it. I ain’t. I ain’t!’
‘You’re in trouble,’ Gently said. ‘You’re in very grave trouble. You’d better start thinking about getting out from under it, Hallman. Lying isn’t going to help you, we know too much about it for that. Only giving us cooperation is going to help you now. So I’m asking you again — who gave you that knife?’
‘Nobody didn’t, I tell you — not nobody!’ Hallman screamed.
‘Who planned this business?’
‘Nobody. Nobody planned it.’
‘It planned itself?’
‘We got together, we just got together!’ Hallman wailed.
‘You just got together, and nobody planned it. Nobody said it would be a wild kick. Nobody pinpointed Tungate Street, or suggested that Sid should be slipped a blade.’
‘Yuh, nobody, nobody!’ Hallman gulped. ‘Just to give him a break, that’s all it was. There wasn’t no blades, no nothing about it. Not nobody didn’t give me that blade.’
‘So where did it come from?’ Gently asked.
‘I don’t know where it come from. I ain’t never seen it.’
‘Who opened the door and slipped it to Bixley?’
‘I wasn’t never near the door,’ Hallman wailed.
‘You weren’t made for a liar,’ Gently said. He let the paper fold back over the knife. Still Hallman couldn’t take his eyes from it, they stared at the paper, distended, unseeing. Gently put a fresh match to his pipe, broke up the match, dropped it in the tray. He directed a stream of smoke at Hallman.
‘What do you know about Lister?’ he asked.
Hallman jerked. His eyes jumped from the paper.
‘Nothing about him I don’t know,’ he said.
Gently made a clicking sound with his tongue. ‘Not anything at all about Lister?’ he asked.
‘Yuh, like I saw him around,’ Hallman said. ‘That’s all it was. I saw him around.’
‘You saw him around,’ Gently said. ‘You saw a great deal of Lister. Maybe you saw him on Tuesday night. Did you see him on Tuesday night, Hallman?’
‘No,’ Hallman said. ‘I never. I was at home. I didn’t see him.’
‘Nor any time on the Tuesday?’
‘Not any time Tuesday,’ Hallman said.
‘Lister,’ Gently said, ‘didn’t like Bixley, did he?’
‘Yuh,’ Hallman said. ‘He liked him.’
‘I don’t think he did,’ Gently said.
‘Yuh, so what if he didn’t?’ Hallman said.
‘Why didn’t he like him?’ Gently asked.
‘He just didn’t like him,’ Hallman said.
‘Because of the reefers?’ Gently asked.
‘Yuh,’ Hallman said. ‘It might have been that.’
‘Why because of that?’ Gently asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Hallman said.
‘You’d better know something,’ Gently said. ‘In case we find your prints on this knife.’
Hallman flinched, dragged on his hands. ‘Yuh,’ he said. ‘It could have been the girl.’
‘Betty Turner?’ Gently asked.
‘Yuh, Betty Turner,’ Hallman said.
‘You’re telling me that Bixley was jealous about her?’
‘Yuh,’ Hallman said. ‘Could be.’
Gently sighed, picked up the knife. ‘We’d better get this to prints,’ he said.
Setters nodded. ‘I’m tired of his lies. He can tell the rest of them to the jury.’
‘Listen!’ Hallman blabbered. ‘Listen. I can tell you why Lister had it in for him. Lister didn’t go for it, not smoking sticks. It’s the truth what I’m telling you.’
‘We found reefers at his home,’ Gently said.
‘Yuh, he didn’t go for it,’ Hallman said. ‘You ask them. Ask any of them. They all know he didn’t go for it. That’s why he had it in for Sid, it’s the truth, it is. He found out Sid was pushing the sticks, he got his knife into Sid.’
‘He found out that Bixley was supplying the reefers?’
‘Yuh, it’s the truth,’ Hallman whined. ‘He flipped his lid. He was mad about it. You ask any of the jees.’
‘Why,’ Gently said, ‘did he flip his lid?’
‘It’s like I’m telling you!’ Hallman said. ‘Sid was pushing the stuff to Lister’s chick and Lister rumbled he was doing it.’
‘Because he was selling reefers to Betty Turner?’
‘Yuh, yuh,’ Hallman said. ‘And he flipped his lid one night at Tony’s, said he was going to stop Sid pushing them.’
‘Well, well,’ Gently said.
‘I’m telling you straight,’ Hallman wailed. ‘Ask Tony, ask anyone. They all know about that.’
‘What else do they know,’ Gently said. ‘What else do you know, Hallman? Did Sid tell his pals what happened on Tuesday, or did he just keep ever so quiet?’
‘He didn’t say nothing about Tuesday,’ Hallman said.
‘He was being modest,’ Gently said.
‘Not nothing to nobody,’ Hallman said.
‘Over-modest,’ said Gently.
He sat slowly breathing out smoke, looking through and beyond Hallman. Hallman went on kneading his hands as though he wanted to make dough of them. Gently absently poked the knife.
‘Where does Bixley keep them?’ he asked.
Hallman jerked. ‘Like what?’ he said.
‘His hoard of reefers,’ Gently said. ‘You’re in the know with Sid, aren’t you?’
‘No,’ Hallman said. ‘He ain’t told no one about them.’
‘Would Elton have known?’ Gently asked.
‘I don’t know about him,’ Hallman whined.
Gently nodded. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘You can go back to do some thinking, Hallman. You’ll have plenty to think about I expect. Perhaps we can talk again later.’
‘That ain’t my knife,’ Hallman said.
‘Think about it,’ Gently said.
‘Yuh,’ Hallman said. ‘It’s the truth I’ve been telling you.’
He was taken out.
Setters edged for the telephone, took his hand away again; lit a cigarette instead and blasted smoke down his nose.
‘Can we prove it on him?’ he asked. ‘That he was the slob who gave Bixley the knife?’
Gently shrugged. ‘With a bit of luck. That knife had to get to Bixley somehow.’
‘Yeah,’ Setters said. ‘And I like that cut hand. You figured that out very nicely. I’m going to tie that up right tight, I’m going to have two medics report on it. Nobody’s getting out of this case. It’s going in like a block of concrete.’
He got out of his chair, walked up and down.
‘You’ve got a rhythm,’ he said. ‘You did a beautiful job on that punk, you squeezed him for just what you wanted. A little more, and we’ve fixed Bixley. I want him topped, not put away.’
‘It’s still circumstantial,’ Gently said. ‘And that alibi might beat us. Elton’s the king-pin of the case. Find Elton, and we’re home.’
Setters stopped, his back to Gently.
‘You think we’re going to find him?’ he said.
‘I don’t know,’ Gently shrugged at nobody. ‘I wouldn’t be Elton,’ he said, ‘at the moment.’
‘Bixley can’t get at him,’ Setters said.
‘No,’ Gently said. ‘Not Bixley.’
Setters came round. ‘Dicky?’ he asked.
Gently nodded his slow nod.
‘Yeah,’ Setters said. ‘Dicky. I’m the dumb cluck, aren’t I? I didn’t quite get through to that one, even when you had me put a tail on him. Dicky. Little Dicky Deeming. The lad who likes to play his records. The boy who gave us this jeebie stuff. Deeming. Little Dicky Deeming.’ He paused, sucked some smoke. ‘And you think he’ll lead us to Elton?’ he asked.
‘If Elton’s alive,’ Gently said. ‘Which I’m afraid doesn’t follow.’
‘But if he is,’ Setters persisted, ‘you reckon Deeming will pay him a visit? Deeming’s in the know about Elton, he knows that Elton’s evidence will fix Bixley. So he pays Elton a visit to try to make sure that he won’t come out till after the trial. You reckon he can put some pressure on Elton — maybe shift him to another place?’
‘He can kill him,’ Gently said.
‘Kill him?’ Setters stared hard. ‘He can’t be that much in love with Bixley, not to go round killing people.’
‘He’s in love with himself,’ Gently said. ‘That’s the way it is with killers. And he’ll kill Elton if he gets to him. Elton’s life isn’t worth a pin.’
Setters was quiet for a moment. Then he said: ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’
Gently gave him his nod again. ‘Deeming killed Lister,’ he said.
Setters was quiet again. He punched the smoke through his nostrils. He came back to his chair, sat down on it, leaned his elbows, stared at nothing.
‘It hurts,’ he said at last. ‘I’m trying to go with you, but it hurts. I’ve got no class as a policeman. I just want Bixley topped.’
‘You took Deeming’s alibi,’ Gently said.
‘Yes,’ Setters said. ‘I can remember. He was up at Tony’s till five to midnight. Tony said so. The others said so.’
‘It isn’t a good one,’ Gently said. ‘And nobody asked Tony if a call came for Deeming.’
‘But it could have done,’ Setters said. ‘Bixley could have rung Deeming at Tony’s.’
Gently went on nodding. ‘He’d have rung him,’ he said. ‘Deeming was the brain in the Bixley set-up. Bixley would have rung him when he was in trouble. And he was in trouble last Tuesday night. Lister had found out where Bixley was collecting the reefers, and Lister had sworn to put a stop to it. He was going to blow the whistle on Bixley. Bixley rang Deeming and told him what had happened.’
‘And Deeming laid for Lister,’ Setters said.
‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘There was no other way. Lister was angry, he couldn’t be talked out of it, he’d have busted the racket wide open. But he was vulnerable, he was on the road, he was where Deeming could deal with him. There could be a crash that would look quite natural, and no awkward questions afterwards. It was Elton who complicated the job. He was tagging along behind Lister and Betty Turner. So he saw what happened, he knew who did it, he was in a spot from the beginning.’
‘He was a smoker,’ Setters said. ‘They could put some pressure on him.’
‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘While he was loose. But it worked against them if he was held. It was touch and go for them when you weren’t satisfied and started making a play for Elton. If he’d been kept away from his dope he would probably have cracked and told the truth. So Elton had to disappear, and he went as soon as they could get at him. I like to think he’s still alive, but I can’t think of any reason for it.’
‘I ought to have held him,’ Setters said. ‘The murdering slobs. I gave them the chance.’
Gently shook his head. ‘You did the right thing. You weren’t certain, so you didn’t charge.’
‘It’ll be on my conscience,’ Setters said. He crammed his cigarette butt into the tray. ‘If he’s dead,’ he muttered to himself. He took his hands off the desk.
‘We’ve got the same theme recurring with Bixley,’ Gently said. ‘He’s a smoker, and we’re holding him, and there’s a danger he might crack. I don’t think he will, but the danger’s there, and Deeming could see that danger. That’s why Bixley found a knife in his hand when the ambush was pulled.’
‘It’s coming to me,’ Setters said. ‘That’s what you were driving at just now. Hallman didn’t just happen to have a knife by him which he handed to Bixley.’
‘There was no object in it,’ Gently said. ‘Hallman wouldn’t have thought of a knife. You say yourself there’s been no knife trouble in Latchford lately.’
‘Deeming wanted Bixley to buy something.’
‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘The lot. Then we wouldn’t pay any attention to what he might tell us about Deeming and Lister. Coming after Bixley had knifed a policeman, it wouldn’t sound very convincing. The more he told it, the more we’d think he did the Lister job himself. And no Elton, no proof. We couldn’t do a thing to Dicky. Hallman’s too much concerned with his hide to admit any knowledge of the knife.’
‘And I was falling for that,’ Setters said, pressing his arms against the desk. ‘I was falling right into it. It’d have gone the way you said. All I could see was chummie Bixley with that knife in his hand. I can’t see much more now. It’s one of those things that stick.’
Gently nodded. ‘Bixley was a tool. It doesn’t excuse him, but he was one. Deeming was throwing him to the wolves, there can be no doubt about that. And we haven’t proved it yet, Deeming’s still riding high. And Bixley can’t prove it for us. He can only tell us where to look for Elton.’
‘He’s going to tell us,’ Setters said.
Gently shrugged. ‘It won’t be easy. Bixley’s tough. He’ll never accept Deeming’s treachery on our say-so.’
‘He’ll tell us,’ Setters said.
‘Also, he’s implicated,’ Gently said.
‘Sooner or later,’ Setters said, ‘he’s going to tell us but everything.’
The door was tapped, Simpson entered. Setters came up off his chair.
‘It’s all right,’ Simpson said. ‘He’s all right. They’ve fixed him up. They had to do an artery job and stitch him, I can’t remember what they called it. But he’s all right, just weak. He had a pint or more from me.’
Setters slowly sat again. ‘Thanks, Simpson,’ he said. ‘Thanks a lot. You’d better knock off. You can come in in the morning if you feel fit.’
‘I’m fine,’ Simpson said. ‘A pint of blood doesn’t worry me. And I’ve brought a message from the medics. You can talk to Betty Turner.’
‘How’s that?’ Setters said.
‘Betty Turner,’ Simpson said. ‘She’s on the mend, she came round last night. You can talk to her if you want to.’