The hospital at Latchford was the South West Northshire and it stood on a swell of rising ground to the north of the town. It had a Georgian foundation which had been added to at other periods, the last addition being a modern ward block connected to two new theatres. Betty Turner was in the modern block, which was the furthest from the car park. After entering the spacious main hall they had to trek down several corridors. A lift took them to the second floor where they were met by the ward sister. She was a determined, strong-voiced woman who read them a lecture as she led them to the room.
‘Five minutes only, and the patient is not to be worried. She is still quite weak and I will not allow her to be hectored.’
‘Does she know we’re coming?’ Gently asked.
‘Of course,’ the ward sister replied. ‘She asked to be permitted to see you. That’s why you are here.’
She took them into a small room with a large window overlooking the town. By the window stood a white-painted bed in which a girl lay propped up with pillows. She had a snub nose and a rounded chin and her head was capped with a bandage. She looked towards the door eagerly. The ward sister closed the door and stood by it.
‘Miss Turner?’ Gently said.
‘Yes,’ the girl said. ‘I’m Betty Turner.’
‘I’m Superintendent Gently,’ Gently said. ‘I’m glad to hear you’re getting better.’
‘Are you a policeman?’ Betty said.
‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘They tell me so.’
‘I know he’s a policeman,’ Betty said. ‘But I don’t think I’ve seen you before.’
‘The super’s from the Yard,’ Setters said. ‘He knows all about the accident, Betty.’
She blushed underneath her bandage. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know.’
Gently sat on the chair near the bed, spread himself, put his hat on his knees.
‘You wanted to see us, Miss Turner,’ he said. ‘Have you remembered something else about the accident?’
She nodded, still looking doubtful. ‘Has there been much… much fuss about it?’ she asked.
‘A little fuss,’ Gently said. ‘There always fuss in these cases.’
‘I didn’t know,’ she repeated. She moved her hand under the quilt. ‘I just wanted to tell you,’ she said suddenly, ‘that it couldn’t have been Laurie who bumped into us.’
‘Laurie Elton?’ Gently asked.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It couldn’t have been Laurie. I knew there was a reason why it couldn’t be, but I haven’t been able to think. He was going too fast, that’s why.’
‘Who was going too fast?’ Gently asked.
‘The man. The one who bumped into us. He was going a lot faster than we were, and Johnnie was flat out just there.’
‘So it couldn’t have been Elton catching you up?’
‘No,’ Betty said. ‘It just couldn’t have been. Laurie’s bike is an old Ariel, it couldn’t make the ton anyway. He was behind us all the way… he wasn’t very pleased with me. We could see his lights miles away. The man who bumped us came from nowhere.’
‘How do you mean — came from nowhere?’
‘Well, we never saw him,’ Betty said. ‘You can see an awful long way there, and there was nobody behind us except Laurie. Then all of a sudden there was this other light catching us up like mad… and then… and then…’ A shiver went through her. ‘I knew,’ she said. ‘I knew he would hit us.’
The ward sister cleared her throat. Betty laid her head back on the pillows. She had a small, pretty mouth and the mouth was trembling.
‘So that’s how I know,’ she said. ‘Poor old Laurie wouldn’t have done it.’
‘Mmn,’ Gently said. ‘That takes care of that point, Miss Turner.’
‘Poor Laurie,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t very nice to Laurie.’
‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘But now I’d like to go back to that jazz session, Miss Turner.’
Her eyes darted to him, held there. ‘I don’t remember much about it,’ she said.
‘I don’t want you to remember much,’ Gently said. ‘Just what happened about the box of chocolates.’
‘Oh those.’ She dropped her eyes. ‘It wasn’t anything, really,’ she said. ‘Sid Bixley won a box of chocolates. Johnny took them, for a lark.’
‘For a lark?’ Gently said.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He didn’t mean anything, honestly. He just picked them up as we were leaving. I’m sure he meant to give them back.’
Gently picked up his hat, made a fanning motion with it. He stared out of the window.
‘It won’t do,’ he said, ‘Miss Turner. You’ll have to remember a little more.’
She blushed more deeply. ‘It wasn’t anything to do with me,’ she said.
‘I think it was,’ Gently said. ‘But you needn’t tell me about that. Just why Johnny took that box of chocolates, and what he intended doing with them.’
She moved around under the quilt, took a great interest in the sheet turn-down. The ward sister was rumbling a little, shifted, made a noise with her keys.
‘I could add,’ Gently said, ‘that there’ll be no more jazz sessions at the Ten Spot. And that Sidney Bixley is in custody, charged with trading in reefers and other matters.’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I see.’ She continued staring at the turn-down. Well,’ she said. ‘You know all about it. There doesn’t seem much for me to tell you.’
‘It’s just routine,’ Gently urged. ‘We like to get the details straight.’
She nodded her bandages. ‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘In that case I’d better tell you. He — Johnny — didn’t like me doing it… you know. Smoking those things. I was silly. Sid gave me a couple, just to try them, he said. Then I wanted some more, and he sold me some, and after that I kept buying them. And Johnny found out. He thought it was because of them that I… well, cooled off him a bit.’
‘Was it because of that?’ Gently asked.
‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘it had nothing to do with it. I liked Johnny an awful lot, but he kept wanting us to get married, you know. But he thought it was the reefers, it was no good me saying anything. Then once he caught Sid selling me some. He got ever so angry about Sid.’
‘When was that — on Tuesday morning?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You know about it? Johnny took the reefers away from me, lucky I’d got a couple to go on with.’
‘In the Kummin Kafe,’ Gently said.
‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘You know it all, don’t you? And Johnny talked to me like a Dutch Uncle — he’s an awfully serious boy, Johnny is. How is he getting on, please?’
A little explosion came from the ward sister.
‘He’s comfortable,’ Gently said. ‘You don’t need to worry about Johnny.’
‘I’m glad,’ Betty said. ‘They wouldn’t tell me anything about him. And I do like Johnny, even though I wasn’t, you know, in love with him.’
‘Go on about Tuesday night,’ Gently said.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Well, Johnny was upset. He didn’t say anything more about the reefers, but he was awfully quiet and sort of offhand. He kept watching Sid and Ann Wicks when we were in the Ten Spot, and when Sid got the chocolates he seemed to get all excited. Then he said we were going to leave early, as soon as they’d played the last number, and as we went out he just picked up the chocolates — Sid had given them to Ann, she’d put them with her bag.’
‘Did Bixley see Johnny take them?’
‘No — he couldn’t have done, could he? Anyway, he didn’t come after us. I’m sure nobody noticed.’
‘Did you meet anyone as you went through the milk bar?’ Gently asked.
She shook her head. ‘They were all down below. There was only that blonde woman who serves there.’
‘Did she speak to you?’
‘No,’ Betty said. ‘Just stared at us, that’s all.’
‘Mmn.’ Gently nodded. ‘So what happened when you got outside?’
‘Well,’ Betty said, ‘Johnny opened the chocolates and found the reefers underneath. Laurie came out just then, so Johnny stuck them in his saddlebag. Then he started up and we got away, and Laurie followed behind.’
‘Did Johnny say what he was going to do?’
‘He said he was going to the police when he got back. I was awfully scared about it all. But he said he wouldn’t mention me.’
‘And that’s all… till Five Mile Drove?’
The bandages nodded. ‘Yes. That’s all.’
‘Thank you, Miss Turner,’ Gently said. ‘You’ve been very helpful. We appreciate it.’
He took his hat, rose. She looked up at him shyly.
‘I’m glad,’ she said. ‘I told you about it. You’re nice. I’m glad I told you.’
Then she began to cry.
‘Give Johnny my love,’ she said.
They went down the corridors, out into the thin October sunlight. Gently unlocked the Rover, they got in, he drove out of the park.
‘He must have been waiting under the tree,’ he said. ‘I thought at first he was in that lane. But he couldn’t have picked up the speed from there, so he must have been under the tree.’
‘Yeah,’ Setters said. ‘Yeah.’
‘He went after them without lights,’ Gently said. ‘Then at the last moment he switched them on, so he wouldn’t be blind after he crashed them.’
Setters nodded at the windscreen. ‘Oh Christ,’ he said. ‘I’m so sick of this.’
‘We’ll get back to Bixley,’ Gently said.
He pressed a little harder on the gas.
At the desk they had a report for him from Brewer and Shepherd, the tails on Deeming. They’d picked him up in the High Street and followed him back to his rooms. He’d gone in and spent some time there, then he’d come out dressed for riding. He’d fetched his motorcycle from a shed and parked it in the side lane leading to his rooms. Next he’d smiled at and saluted the policemen, and had gone off on foot to Everard’s Restaurant. He was sitting there now eating his lunch. Brewer and Shepherd were also sitting there.
‘Where’s Everard’s Restaurant?’ Gently asked.
‘Not far from where he lives,’ Setters told him. ‘It’s in the street just round the corner. I eat there myself when I’m in a mood for eating.’
Gently hesitated. ‘I’d like the patrols alerted,’ he said. ‘Give them Deeming’s description and the description of his bike and tell them to keep watch out for him. If Brewer and Shepherd aren’t right with him he’s to be stopped and held for questioning.’
‘Willco,’ Setters said. ‘But it’s a good car and Brewer can drive.’
‘So can Deeming,’ Gently said.
‘You should know,’ said Setters.
They had a snack lunch sent into the office, sandwiches, fruit, and coffee. Gently ate his in silence, Setters made only odd remarks. There was something formidable about Gently when he didn’t want to talk. He seemed a long way away, detached, out of reach. He finished his coffee.
‘Can you spare half a dozen uniform men?’ he asked.
‘What to do?’ Setters countered.
‘To sit in here,’ Gently said.
Setters shrugged. ‘Window-dressing?’
‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘Window-dressing.’
‘Huh,’ Setters said. ‘Well, I’ll rustle you some up,’
The six men were found, instructed, and arranged in a semicircle in front of the desk. In the middle of the semicircle was placed a chair. On the desk was placed the flick-knife. Gently took the chair behind the desk. Setters sat to his right. Bixley was brought in, told to sit. The policemen drew their chairs up round him.
‘So,’ Gently said to him, ‘you’re back here again, Bixley.’
Bixley’s mouth was tight, his cheeks flushed, his eyes frightened and unsteady. He threw a look at the policemen. They were all staring at him. He edged his chair towards the desk, saw the knife, went still.
Gently hit the desk hard.
Bixley jumped clear of the chair.
‘You’re nervous, Bixley,’ Gently said. ‘You’ve been eighteen hours without a smoke.’
Bixley shrank back on the chair. ‘You can’t do this, screw,’ he croaked. ‘I been charged, you can’t touch me. It’s the bleeding law, that is.’
‘I didn’t think the law mattered so much to you,’ Gently said.
‘Yuh,’ Bixley said. ‘You can’t do it. None of you can’t lay a finger on me.’
‘Are you scared of something?’ Gently asked.
‘No,’ Bixley said. ‘I ain’t scared.’
‘You look scared,’ Gently said.
‘I ain’t scared. Not of bleeding coppers.’
‘I could understand it,’ Gently said. ‘There’s a copper lying in the hospital. There’s a girl lying there too. And there’s one of your mates in the mortuary.’
‘Yuh,’ Bixley said. ‘You don’t scare me, screw.’
‘You don’t scare easily,’ Gently said. ‘I’d be scared if I were you.’
Bixley swallowed, touched the black bruise on the right side of his throat. Somebody behind him moved their chair. Bixley swung round, cringing. He met the hard stare of policemen.
‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘You’re scared, Bixley.’
‘You can’t do it!’ Bixley screamed. ‘I want my rights. I want a lawyer!’
‘Calm yourself,’ Gently said.
‘I been charged. I want a lawyer!’
‘You haven’t been charged,’ Gently said. ‘Not with murder. Not yet.’
‘I ain’t done no murder!’ Bixley screamed. ‘I ain’t, you bleeding know I ain’t.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Gently said. ‘We’ll see about a lot of things, won’t we, Bixley?’
‘You daren’t touch me!’ Bixley sobbed. ‘You daren’t do it. You bloody daren’t.’
Setters turned his head over his shoulder and spat on the floor. ‘Are you listening to me?’ Gently asked.
‘I never done it!’ Bixley sobbed.
‘Listen carefully,’ Gently said. ‘You’re going to tell me all about that jazz session. And you’re going to tell me the truth, because I’ll know when you’re lying, Bixley. And if you tell any more lies, fifty lawyers won’t help you. So get it stuck in your head. Only the truth is any good.’
‘I ain’t done nothing,’ Bixley sobbed. ‘I ain’t done nothing at all.’
‘Sit up straight,’ Gently said.
‘I ain’t, I ain’t,’ Bixley sobbed.
‘Now, the truth,’ Gently said.
‘I ain’t never killed nobody.’
‘You’ll have to prove it,’ Gently said. ‘Sit up straight and tell the truth.’
Bixley snivelled, propped himself up, began to stammer out his account. It didn’t differ from earlier versions, he even left out the chocolates. Gently picked up the flick-knife, began stabbing at the paper with it. He let Bixley stumble on unquestioned till he’d faltered to a stop. Then he slammed the knife on the desk.
‘Just run through it again,’ he said.
Bixley gaped, didn’t seem to hear him.
‘Come on, come on,’ Gently said.
‘But I now told you-’ Bixley began.
‘Now tell me again,’ Gently said.
One of the policemen shifted his feet. Bixley gulped, began to talk.
‘That,’ Gently said, ‘didn’t sound right either.’
‘But it’s the bleeding truth!’ Bixley croaked. ‘It is, I tell you.’
‘You’ve left some things out.’
‘No, I ain’t!’ Bixley said.
‘Things,’ Gently said, ‘like how the counter-assistant told you who’d taken your box of chocolates.’
‘It was Leach who told me!’ Bixley screamed.
‘My mistake,’ Gently said. ‘Now we’ll run through it again, putting that bit in.’
They went through it again, putting that bit in. Bixley’s lips were very dry, he slurred and tripped over his words. Setters was hammering a tattoo on the desk with his fingers. Bixley didn’t like the sound. He didn’t like Setters’ eyes.
‘So you knew,’ Gently said, ‘who’d gone off with your chocolates?’
‘Yuh,’ Bixley said. ‘Yuh, yuh, I knew.’
‘Yet you didn’t go after him. You left a quarter of an hour later.’
‘I thought I’d see him,’ Bixley said. ‘Yuh, I thought I’d see him around.’
‘You thought you’d leave it like that — after just having paid forty quid for the chocolates?’
‘Yuh,’ Bixley said. ‘Like that’s what I did.’
‘Though you knew he was going to shop you — that he was only waiting for the chance?’
‘I didn’t know nothing about that!’ Bixley shouted. ‘It’s bleeding lies, all that is.’
‘We’ve been talking to Betty Turner, Bixley.’
‘I don’t care. She’s a bleeding liar.’
‘Hallman too.’
‘The bloody rat.’
‘And there’s a lot of others who knew about Lister.’
Bixley strained forward in the chair.
‘All bloody right,’ he croaked. ‘All right. So Lister was going to put the squeal on me. Like I say, all bloody right!’
‘And you didn’t try to stop him,’ Gently said.
‘No, I didn’t try to stop him!’
‘You just let him go off with the box of reefers.’
‘Yuh, yuh, I just let him go.’
‘And Leach was lying if he said you telephoned.’
‘I never telephoned!’ Bixley screamed.
‘Not to Tony’s place?’ Gently asked.
‘I bleeding didn’t. I bleeding didn’t!’
‘So there wouldn’t be a record of such a call?’
Bixley gabbled out swear words.
‘Deeming wants you hung,’ Gently said. ‘You know where you stand with Deeming, don’t you?’
Bixley folded, began howling, stuck his palms in his eyes. He rocked his shoulders from side to side, gasping out paroxysms like a kid.
‘It ain’t true!’ he kept howling. ‘It ain’t true, you bloody swines!’
‘It’s true,’ Gently said. ‘You’d better take a look at where you stand, Bixley. We haven’t got a thing on Deeming. We’ve got everything on you. You’re scum. You’re murderous scum. We’d sooner hang you than hang him. And you’ll hang, Bixley, make no doubt of it, unless you can squirm out of it by ratting. So you’d better rat. It’s your only chance. And you’d better pray that we believe you.’
‘You’re bloody lying!’ Bixley howled. ‘It ain’t true, you dirty swine.’
‘You’ll hang,’ Gently said. ‘You’ve had your last chance, Bixley.’
He went on howling and screaming. Setters got up and walked about. The uniform men in their semicircle stared about them, looked uncomfortable. Only Gently never moved. He was leaning on his elbows on the desk. He watched the crumpled, hysterical, gang-boy with eyes completely empty of expression. His stillness was terrible. It was that which made Setters walk about.
Bixley half straightened, his eyes streaming. He clutched at the desk, held on to it. He crouched, his chin between his hands, his mouth open, gasping sobs.
‘I didn’t!’ he sobbed, ‘I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t.’
‘Deeming did,’ Gently said. ‘You phoned him. He did it.’
‘Nobody did it,’ Bixley sobbed. ‘It was an accident, nobody did it.’
‘Deeming did it,’ Gently said. ‘At your suggestion. You’re in it with him.’
‘No!’ Bixley cried. ‘I never suggested it. I didn’t!’
‘What did you suggest?’ Gently asked.
‘Not doing that,’ Bixley sobbed.
‘What else could you suggest?’ Gently asked. ‘ Nothing else would have stopped Lister.’
‘I didn’t, I tell you,’ Bixley sobbed. ‘I never suggested anything at all.’
‘What did you think Deeming would do?’
‘I didn’t think!’ Bixley wailed.
‘You must have thought,’ Gently said.
Bixley went on howling.
The door was tapped. Setters strode over to it. The desk-sergeant stood there. He held a message slip in his hand, looked dubiously towards Gently.
‘What is it?’ Gently asked.
‘It’s a message from Brewer, sir,’ the sergeant said. ‘The bloke they were tailing has given them the slip. Brewer said to let you know directly.’
Gently sat silent for a moment, then he rose and took the slip. It was brief. Deeming had got clear in the cafe, he’d gone into the toilet and hadn’t come out. After five minutes Brewer had gone after him and had found only an open toilet window. The window gave on a yard from which was access to Eastgate Street. Brewer had followed, found Deeming’s motorcycle gone.
‘Where are Brewer and Shepherd now?’
‘Trying to pick up some trace of him, sir.’
‘Tell them to come in, we need a car with R.T. And warn the patrols. They’re to arrest Deeming on sight.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The sergeant turned on his heel and went out. Gently pushed through the semicircle to Bixley, grabbed his collar and jerked him upright.
‘You heard that, Bixley?’ he said. ‘Deeming’s shaken off his tail. He’s after Elton, Bixley — and Elton’s your witness now.’
‘I don’t know nothing-!’ Bixley squealed. The squeal was cut off by a violent shake.
‘Listen!’ Gently thundered at him. ‘If Elton dies, you die. He’s the only person who can save you. He can testify who killed Lister. And Deeming’s after him, Bixley, Deeming wants you to hang. He’s going to stop Elton talking the way he stopped Lister talking. Or is it that Elton’s dead already?’
‘He’s alive!’ Bixley screamed.
‘Then where is he?’ Gently roared. ‘Where have you hidden him, Bixley?’
Bixley gurgled. Gently shook him and went on shaking him. Bixley let his muscles go limp and his head rolled about.
‘Shuck’s Graves!’ he gasped at last. ‘That’s where, Shuck’s Graves-!’
‘Where?’ Gently bawled in his ear.
‘Shuck’s Graves… Shuck’s Graves!’
Gently dropped him, turned to Setters.
‘Do you know where that is?’ he asked him.
‘Yeah,’ Setters said, ‘I know it. It’s the place where Dicky took you on his bike.’
Gently stared. ‘I’m a fool,’ he said. ‘Lock this one up, and let’s get out there.’