Gently Go Man (8 page)

‘Yuh?’ Deeming said. ‘What’s that for a crack?’

Gently shrugged, climbed up the hummock, took some steps round its perimeter. It was very roughly circular and the middle and one side seemed to have been excavated. The hollow was carpeted with needles and fir cones. There lay in it also a cigarette packet and two or three ends. He climbed down the side of the hollow and retrieved them. They were fresh. They hadn’t been in the dew.

‘You smoke Player’s?’ he demanded of Deeming.

Deeming grinned. ‘Like I do, screw,’ he said.

‘They’d be Player’s,’ Gently said, ‘in your case?’

Deeming took out his case, snapped it open, showed them.

‘I needn’t have asked that, need I?’ Gently said.

‘Sure,’ Deeming said. ‘You’re a screw. It checks. I tell you I’ve been here all the morning, and like you want to prove it. That’s being a screw.’

‘Why should I want to know you’d been here all the morning?’

Deeming opened his big palms. ‘You tell me,’ he said.

‘I’ll tell you something,’ Gently said. ‘There’s a lot of imagination being used.’

‘Imagination?’ Deeming said.

‘Yes. And Bixley hasn’t got much.’

Deeming made a face at him. ‘You’re being subtle, screw,’ he said. ‘Man, you’re the one for the sly dig. It sends me, the way you give it spin.’

Gently looked at him, puffing. He dropped the packet and ends back in the hollow.

The track bore to the right past the depression, or perhaps was joined by a second track. Neither track was distinct enough to suggest which way it was. But they rode away from the two firs at a right angle to their line of approach, the depression quickly melting back into the anonymity of the brecks. Deeming was humming to himself. It was a theme of Beethoven’s. He rode faster on this return leg, but still not very fast. The sun had strengthened as it began to set and was filling the
hollows with slaty shadow. Some low mist was forming. It kept in the hollows.

Eventually the track become more regular and some low trees showed ahead of it, then they came up with a scrubby hedge, a bit of pasture, and a sheep-pen. The pasture showed more frequently. They passed a cottage with a smoking chimney. Just beyond it they went through a farmyard and through farm gates on to a narrow road. A mile further and they could see traffic passing on a hedgeless, straight, main road. It was the Norwich road. At the intersection a fingerpost said ‘Latchford 3’. Deeming turned his head, showing his teeth.

‘You’ll be back for tea, screw,’ he said. ‘You like it I break two minutes between here and town?’

He didn’t wait for an answer but wound the throttle three parts open. The machine soared off like a comet. They broke two minutes quite easily. Deeming tickered it in to Tony’s park where the other machines were still lined up, placed it precisely in the line, shut it down and dropped the rest. Bixley strutted out from the doorway, stood looking ugly with his swollen upper lip.

‘That was the coda, screw, that last bit,’ Deeming said, swinging his goggles. ‘Like I wanted you to have the full treatment, double-side L.P.’

His eyes were sparkling, he looked elated, he gave Bixley a flip on the shoulder.

‘The screw just loved it,’ he said. ‘The screw just loved every minute.’

‘Yuh, he must have done,’ Bixley said thickly.

‘Sure, he was crazy with it,’ Deeming said. ‘Like he
would have gone on touching till we ran out of gas. You underestimate the screw, Sid. You underestimate him bad. But he’s wild there at the bottom of him, he’s a wild, way-out screw. And like you’d do well to remember that, Sid, if you have any deals with him. It’s crazy, the way he picks up tricks. You don’t fool him for five minutes.’

‘I’ll remember it,’ Bixley said.

‘Yeah, he’s mustard-sharp,’ Deeming said. ‘I wouldn’t try pulling the wool with this screw. He’s all round you. He digs everything.’

Gently took off the helmet and goggles, pulled his trousers out of his socks.

‘Thanks for the entertainment,’ he said. ‘It makes a change from dull routine.’

‘Any time,’ Deeming said. ‘We don’t like screws having it dull.’

‘Don’t misunderstand me,’ Gently said. ‘Murder can never really be dull.’

He unlocked the Rover, got in, lit his pipe. They watched him silently. He drove away.

At the Sun it was later than teatime but his waitress fetched a tray for him in the lounge. He was surprisingly stiff from his bout of riding and his arm was aching where Hallman had punched it. He had the evening paper brought in. The Lister case had gone off the front page. The paper originated in Norwich and there was nothing in it about the business at Castlebridge. He ate his toasted teacakes sombrely, drank his tea, stared at the window.

He was back with his pipe when Setters came in. The local inspector looked relieved to see him.

‘I’ve been trying to contact you all the afternoon,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t seem to get a fix on you after you left Castlebridge. Then we got a motorist making a report about some dangerous driving in Five Mile Drove, and the car sounded a bit like yours, and you could have been there about then. Did you have any trouble?’

Gently grunted. ‘Not to say trouble,’ he replied. ‘A little playfulness, perhaps, and some polished
stage-management
.’

‘What this motorist reported didn’t sound very playful.’

‘It’s a matter of taste,’ Gently said. ‘It might seem boisterous to some people.’

He gave Setters an account of the events of the day. Setters sat droopingly listening, dragging on a cigarette and flicking his nails. When Gently had finished Setters sat silent for some moments, then he said:

‘It looks to me as though it’s just the reefer-boys you’ve been having a tangle with.’

‘That’s how it looks,’ Gently admitted.

‘It looks to work this way,’ Setters said. ‘They knew you saw the collector at Castlebridge, so they aimed to confuse you, and lay on alibis, and take the juice out of you too. First there was two instead of one, then there was six instead of two. So you can’t swear to any one of them, and one and all have got alibis. I didn’t realize we’d got such clever bastards in Latchford.’

‘But it wasn’t necessary,’ Gently said. ‘That’s the significant point. I didn’t recognize the collector. All the play-acting was superfluous.’

‘Bixley knew you’d suspect him,’ Setters said. ‘Maybe that’s why he set it up. That and to make you look small, which he’d want to do to keep face.’

‘But now I’m positive it was him,’ Gently said, ‘after a build-up like that. Or am I only supposed to be positive – was that the idea of it?’

‘I don’t get it,’ Setters said. ‘You’re straining my poor provincial brain. But here’s a hard fact I came to tell you – we found some sticks at Elton’s place.’

He gave Gently a side glance.

‘They were in the garden shed,’ he said. ‘There were five of them, in a box. A chocolate box. It’s got no good prints on it.’

‘Anything else?’ Gently asked.

‘Yes,’ Setters said, ‘from the Yard. They put a call through for you just this minute. That’s why I came hunting you up.’ 

T
HEY WENT DOWN
to Police H.Q. and Gently took the call in Setters’ office. Pagram came on at the other end. He was eating something and talking with his mouth full.

‘You’ve dropped some dynamite,’ he said. ‘Down in Narcotics you’re the blue-eyed boy. That telephone number took them straight to the top man, a gent by the name of Leo Slavinovsky. They copped him bending with all the goods on him – and ten or a dozen of his associates. Don’t mind me, I’m catching up, I’m having a picnic in the office.’

‘Anything I can use?’ Gently asked.

‘I’d say it looks promising,’ Pagram said. ‘Slavinovsky’s premises are in Gumbrill Street, Bethnal. Wasn’t it Bethnal you had your eagle eye on?’

‘Yes, Bethnal.’ Gently nodded.

‘Well, the results are still coming in. They’ve got some interesting records from Slavinovsky’s safe which look like filling a few vacant cells. His set-up is definitely a Bethnal product. All the Cuthberts they’ve pulled in
belong to that area. I’ve told them to check for connections with your wide boy at Latchford. I’m waiting now to hear from them. I’m eating canteen cheese rolls.’

‘You’ll have indigestion,’ Gently said.

‘A man must live,’ said Pagram. ‘Now you can hang up and let me finish. It’s difficult to drink, eat, and talk.’

Gently hung up, made himself comfortable to wait for the call back. Setters came in with the box and reefers which he’d found at Elton’s home. The box was a small one, a quarter-pound box, and of a different brand to those seized at Castlebridge. The reefers were of the same make. The box was empty except for the reefers.

Setters sat down beside the desk, lit a cigarette, drew heavily.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said. ‘It was painful, but I did it.’

‘About these?’ Gently said.

Setters nodded, drew some more.

‘It’s having you with me,’ he said. ‘I can’t keep it simple any longer. I keep being devious about
everything
, I want to come up with something clever. So though this rubs, I’ve got to say it. I think that crap is a plant.’

‘Mmn,’ Gently said. ‘Did you talk to Maureen?’

‘Yep,’ Setters said, ‘I talked to her. I think she knew Elton was smoking and I think she destroyed any sticks he left there. But I don’t think she planted these. There’s no single reason why she should. And she wouldn’t have planted them in the shed, but in his bedroom
somewhere
. It’s the shed angle that started me off, there’s no
lock on the shed. You’ve only to hop over the fence, sneak up the path, and open the door.’

‘Was she there when you found them?’ Gently asked.

‘Yes,’ Setters said. ‘She was hanging around. I got the impression that she was surprised and didn’t like it very much. But she wouldn’t open up on it, other than swearing they weren’t hers. I think they were planted and she’s got a good idea about who did the planting.’

‘Bixley,’ Gently mused. ‘Or one of his side-kicks.’

‘From what you tell me,’ Setters said, ‘that would be the idea. I wouldn’t know if his grapevine told him about what Greenstone gave us, but if it did this could be an attempt to fasten the reefer-passing on Elton. So like that it might not have been Elton who was sitting at the table with Betty Turner. It might have been Bixley, and he’s got reasons for wanting to keep us from thinking that. Or maybe again he was just trying to make a scapegoat out of Elton, which attempt has now fallen through owing to what you saw at Castlebridge today.’

‘Have you rung the hospital today?’ Gently asked.

‘Yes, twice,’ Setters said. ‘She’s improving, she’s got her eyes open. But she isn’t talking yet.’

‘It might not have been her Greenstone saw,’ Gently said. ‘It might not have been Bixley or Elton with her. All Greenstone was certain about was Lister and him taking the serviette.’

‘And the sticks,’ Setters said. ‘Don’t forget he took them.’

Gently nodded. ‘It wasn’t very gallant of him to take his fiancée’s supply of reefers.’

‘Meaning?’ Setters asked.

‘Just a point,’ Gently said. ‘Because it might not have been Betty Turner who Greenstone saw. Perhaps Lister was deeper in this than we thought. Perhaps he took the reefers because the girl couldn’t pay for them. There may be an angle we haven’t got on to why he was ridden off the road.’

Setters looked doubtful. ‘I like it simple,’ he said. ‘That’s my natural-born instinct. If there was something else we’d have got a smell of it beyond all this surmising. We’re getting smoke blown in our eyes with this dope-peddling business. The fact is Elton had a motive, and I don’t see where anyone else has.’

‘Mmn.’ Gently conceded the point. ‘He’s certainly in it up to his eyeballs. Leach, the man they’ve arrested over at Castlebridge, was trying to help me keep it with Elton.’

‘You think he was lying?’

‘Like a trooper.’

‘It might have been the truth,’ Setters said.

‘He was lying,’ Gently affirmed. ‘Though it may have been only to oblige a customer. Bixley’s alibi isn’t cast iron. It’s just on the cards he caught up with Lister.’

‘But what was his motive?’ Setters asked.

Gently shrugged. ‘There’s none to date.’

‘I don’t like it,’ Setters said. ‘I wish to Christ we could pick up Elton.’

He lit another cigarette from his butt, smoked silently for a while. The station routine went on outside, voices, feet tramping, a telephone bell. Gently sat poring over the box and reefers, his eyes narrowed and unshifting.
Setters sat hugging a bony knee, he’d got the visitor’s chair, it wasn’t comfortable.

‘There’s Dicky Deeming,’ Setters pondered. ‘Do you think he knows what goes on?’

Gently smiled at the box. ‘He plays the big brother,’ he said.

‘He’s got influence with them,’ Setters said. ‘You’ve only to talk to them to find that out. I don’t like him, I don’t like his influence, but he never bothers us.’

‘He’s their high priest,’ Gently said.

‘Yes?’ Setters said. ‘What would that be?’

‘Just high priest,’ Gently said, ‘the one who gives them the law.’

‘This jeebie stuff?’ Setters asked.

Gently nodded. ‘That’s it. It’s Dicky who’s spread the gospel in Latchford. It came to Latchford with Dicky.’

‘I knew I didn’t like him,’ Setters said. ‘I knew there had to be a reason. Hell, I’ll make it tough for Dicky – fetching that stinking stuff in here!’

No.’ Gently shook his head. ‘That’s the wrong sort of treatment. If you make a martyr out of Dicky you’ll play right into his hands. The cult has got a religious twist, it’ll flourish on persecution. So don’t knock it, don’t push it, just ignore it where you can.’

‘Pushing reefers,’ Setters said. ‘Riding bikes like madmen.’

‘That’s where you don’t ignore it,’ Gently said. ‘That’s where you clamp down hard. But don’t touch Dicky for the moment, let him amuse himself with me. His influence has got a credit side. He tries to keep his flock from being rowdy.’

Setters sniffed. ‘Are you on to him for something?’

‘I’m not quite certain,’ Gently said. ‘He’s in this business, and yet he’s detached from it. But he’s certainly on to me.’

‘You mean it was him who set it up today.’

‘He played a big part in it,’ Gently said. ‘But whether it was for devilment or for a reason is something I haven’t settled yet. Perhaps tomorrow’s paper will tell us.’

‘Yeah, perhaps,’ said Setters sourly.

‘He’s a beautiful rider,’ Gently said. ‘He’s got courage, a lot of that.’

The phone jangled. He picked it up. After a moment, Pagram came on.

‘This may seem a bit involved,’ Pagram began. ‘But it could be what you’re after. Does the name of Waters mean anything to you?’

‘Nothing whatever,’ Gently said.

‘Well, one of the chummies we’ve caught is called Waters and his mother was a Lemon.’

‘A Lemon?’ Gently queried.

‘Yes,’ Pagram said. ‘You still sound vague. But Cissie Lemon was his mother and she’s got a sister called Ruby. I’ve got some notes here from a P.C. Noble who swears he knows what he’s talking about.’

‘Go on,’ said Gently patiently.

‘We’re coming to it,’ Pagram said. ‘Now Cissie’s sister married a van driver, and this is where we get the connection. The van driver’s name was Arthur Bixley. I rather think he’s Sidney Bixley’s father.’

‘That’s the one,’ Gently said.

‘I thought it could be,’ Pagram said. ‘So like that
Sidney is a cousin of Waters’, and Waters is a member of the Slavinovsky gang. Is that what you wanted?’

‘Roughly speaking,’ Gently said.

‘You were right about the cheese rolls,’ Pagram said. ‘I’m having one analysed down in the lab.’

Gently laid the phone on its rest. He pondered dreamily for a moment.

‘Can we get a search warrant done quickly?’ he asked. Setters nodded. ‘I’ve got one on tap.’

‘Right,’ Gently said. ‘We’re going to search Bixley’s house. And while we’re at it, I think we’d better have Bixley picked up for questioning.’

The Bixleys lived in a terrace house in Breck Hill Road, which lay on the furthest edge of the New Town Area. Though the houses were terraced they were neatly crow-stepped up a gentle rise and this gave to each one a faint air of individuality. The Bixleys lived at fifty-seven, more than halfway up. A light showed in their kitchen, which was situated at the front. Gently rang, and the door was opened by a bow-shouldered man in shirtsleeves. He looked startled to find three men on his doorstep.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘What are you after?’ He kept the door on the balance.

‘Police,’ Gently said. ‘Are you Mr Bixley?’

The bow-shouldered man seemed uncertain.

‘What are you after?’ he repeated. ‘If you want to talk to Sid, he isn’t in just now.’

‘We have a search warrant,’ Gently said, producing it. ‘I tell you Sid’s not here,’ said the man.

‘It’s made out for the premises,’ Gently said. ‘We’ll have to come in, Mr Bixley.’

The man frowned at it, looked puzzled, then backed away from the door. Gently entered with Setters and Ralphs. They stood in a small hall which contained the staircase.

‘You’ll have to wait a mo’,’ the man said. ‘Maybe Ruby ain’t respectable.’

He stuck his head round the kitchen door.

‘Right you are,’ he said.

They followed him into the kitchen. It was a small room with a coke-fired boiler. It contained a dining table, two old armchairs, three straight-back chairs and a television set. From one of the armchairs a woman had risen and she was hastily dragging on a skirt. She stared angrily at the intruders, shoving in her blouse with stumpy fingers.

‘Arter,’ she said. ‘What do you mean letting these men in here, Arter?’

Arter wagged his bow-shoulders. ‘I couldn’t help it, Ruby,’ he said. ‘They got a warrant and everything. I told them Sid wasn’t in.’

‘That ain’t no reason,’ Ruby said. ‘You don’t have to let them in like this.’

She was a big, formidable woman with arms like pale, freckled hams. She was a good deal larger than her husband. Her husband had a sad, colourless face.

Gently said:

‘I’m afraid we must inconvenience you, Mrs Bixley. We’ve reason to think that your son is concealing prohibited drugs in this house. We’ve come to search it,
also I’d like to ask you some questions about him. The questions can wait, if you like, till you’ve watched us make the search.’

‘Ho,’ she said. ‘Well, you put it like a gentleman, don’t you?’

She eased the blouse out a little, buttoned it across her straining brassiere.

‘You won’t find nothing here,’ she said, ‘prying into all our little affairs. But you can look, that’s all right. Arter can see you don’t pinch nothing.’

Setters with Ralphs made a businesslike beginning in the kitchen, but apart from the built-in cupboards and a small pantry it contained few likely places of concealment. Setters poked the two armchairs and turned them over to inspect the springs. Ralphs moved a rug, trod heavily about the stained boards which formed the floor. Mrs Bixley watched them aggressively. Arter rolled himself a fag.

‘That’s about it,’ Setters said, after stirring in a flour-bin and replacing it.

Trailing Arter behind them, they went out to continue next door. Mrs Bixley repossessed an
armchair
, jerked a thumb at the other one.

‘You better sit down,’ she said to Gently. ‘Nothing like making yourselves at home. And there ain’t much I can tell you about our Sid what you don’t know already. You’re the Yard one, ain’t you?’

Gently nodded, sat himself.

‘Thought you were,’ said Mrs Bixley. ‘You got more savvy about you than them two. It ain’t the same down here like it is back home, they just ain’t got the know. Now what’s our Sid been up to this time?’

‘What we told you,’ Gently said. ‘And you know about it, don’t you, Mrs Bixley?’

‘If I did I’d be a fool to let on, wouldn’t I?’ she retorted. ‘But I ain’t saying I’m so blooming innocent. I’ve seen him have them reefers around. But cor love us, I ask you, what’s a thing like that to make a fuss over?’

‘When have you seen him have them around?’

‘When?’ She made her eyes round. ‘Do us a favour, I can’t remember the ins and outs like that. But I’ve caught him smoking one sometimes – pooh, I can’t stand that stink! I told him I wouldn’t have it in here, he’d have to do it somewhere else.’

‘You didn’t want to know where he’d got them?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘Where do kids always get them from – off each other, that’s where.’

‘They don’t make them themselves, Mrs Bixley.’

‘Didn’t say they did, did I? One of them buys them in a pub or a street corner or somewhere. You know how it is. They will go for these things. Me, I tried one when I was that age, it made me spew something rotten.’

‘How many have you seen him have at one time?’

‘Only the one,’ said Mrs Bixley. ‘Then it was the stink what made me notice it, I’d come in here and niff the stink.’

‘You haven’t seen him have a box of them?’

‘No I haven’t,’ she said.

‘Have you seen him with boxes of Melton
chocolates
?’

‘What, Sid?’ she said. ‘Do us a favour.’