Gone Tomorrow (18 page)

‘I’m getting the picture,’ Atherton said in disparaging tones.

‘Yes,’ Slider said, ‘but for all his attitude, he wasn’t standing behind the door with One-Eyed Billy when they were passing out the brains.’

‘Please,’ Joanna begged, ‘stop with all this one-eyed stuff. It sounds like a black-and-white B film from the fifties.’

‘Billy Cheeseman,’ Slider elucidated. ‘His dad owned a pie and eel shop down the Goldhawk Road.’

Joanna put her head in her hands and whimpered. ‘No more! I’m coming over all Jack Warner.’

‘I’ll talk to Atherton,’ Slider said kindly, and between forkfuls, told what he had heard that morning, adding a swift blocking in of the rest of the case for Joanna’s benefit.

‘And you didn’t bring him in?’ Atherton asked when he had finished.

‘I’d have needed at least eight wild horses,’ Slider said. ‘But Billy obviously knows him, and where he lives. If need be we can go and fetch him, but I’d rather not at this stage. He was genuinely scared, and if we want him later in court we’d better cherish him now.’

‘You believed all this bollocks about a Moriarty lurking in the shadows?’

‘He
believed he was in danger,’ Slider said. ‘I said from the beginning it looked more like a gang killing to me.’

‘You did,’ Atherton allowed.

‘If the boss, whoever he was, ordered Lenny’s killing for some unspecified crime against the organisation, the same could happen to Everet.’

‘So you think it was an execution?’ Atherton said.

‘How many times do I have to tell you—’

‘He doesn’t speculate ahead of his data,’ Joanna finished for him. ‘He likes to keep an open mind. Don’t you, beloved?’

‘What she said,’ Slider nodded.

‘The thing that strikes me, as an outsider, as significant,’ Joanna said, ‘was saying Monday wasn’t Lenny’s usual night for selling drugs. Which suggests he must have been meeting someone there by arrangement, who, presumably, killed him. So doesn’t that rather rule out this other bloke, Eddie Whatsit?’

‘Unless he followed him,’ Slider said. ‘He might have been out looking for him, spotted him on his way to the park and followed.’

‘On that basis, it might have been anyone,’ Atherton said.

‘Quite. But there’s also the possibility that Eddie was also working for the boss, whoever he was. We know he’s stupid, but he might be useful as a blunt instrument, if he takes orders well.’

‘Maybe that’s why he stayed indoors for two days. Maybe he was told to lie low,’ Joanna said. ‘The stuff about being too vain to go out with a black eye sounds a bit thin to me.’

‘You’ve not met him,’ Atherton said. ‘He’s more vain than a blood donor clinic. I can’t believe anyone would use him, even as a blunt instrument, if they had any choice. Well,’ he concluded, spearing the last quarter tomato, ‘it’s obvious that Sonny Collins is the man to lean on.’

‘I thought you’d had two goes at him,’ Joanna said.

‘Yes, but now it’s time to take the gloves off,’ Atherton said. He noted her expression. ‘I can spout worse clichés than that in a good cause.’

‘You’re right,’ Slider said. ‘We’ll get him in again, and this time he stays in until he comes across.’

‘I suppose that means you want me to scarper,’ Joanna said with barely a sigh. She knew the score.

‘I’ll try not to be late tonight,’ Slider said, ‘but you know—’

‘I know. Don’t worry about me. I’ll ring you later and see how you’re getting on.’

‘What will you do?’

‘I’ll go and see Sue. Is she at her place or yours?’ she asked Atherton.

‘Mine, as far as I know,’ he said.

‘Oh good. I’m longing to see your cats.’ She kissed Slider goodbye with her eyes, respecting his dignity. ‘Go get ’em, tiger!
See you later.’

This time Sonny Collins came in accompanied by his brief, none other than the famous David Stevens, who represented all the worst villains in west London. Stevens was a small man with a well-lunched figure, smooth hair and a smooth face. He had merry twinkling eyes, the unfailing cheerfulness of one of life’s higher earners, and suits so expensive and beautiful they would make a boulevardier faint.

Slider’s heart always sank when he saw Stevens turn up with someone he wanted to question. They had crossed swords many times, and Stevens usually came off better. Behind his bonhomie he had a mind like the labyrinth of Knossos, and any argument he put up had more clauses than Santa’s family tree; but Slider couldn’t help liking the man. He beckoned, and Stevens turned aside willingly to chat with him.

‘How can Collins afford your fees?’ Slider asked, after they had exchanged the amenities. Stevens only beamed at him. ‘Don’t tell me the brewery’s paying his bills?’

‘A famous brewing firm would naturally want to protect its reputation,’ Stevens said.

‘So it is them?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘I can’t believe they’d lash out that much on a bloke who runs the Phoenix. Have you seen the Phoenix?’

‘No. But I can’t believe it either.’

‘More likely they’d just sack him if they wanted to keep their hands clean.’

‘Much more likely.’

Slider whimpered. ‘Five minutes talking to you and I feel like a dog trying to bite its own tail.’

‘But where can you get one at this time of day?’ Stevens said genially.

‘So you aren’t going to tell me who’s paying you?’

‘Not in these trousers.’

‘You know we’re investigating a very serious crime?’

‘Of course. And if my client is suspected of committing a very serious crime I’m sure he would like to hear your evidence.’

‘I just want to ask him some questions,’ Slider said. ‘Why does he feel the need for a high-powered brief? Has he got a guilty conscience?’

‘My client has already co-operated with you on two occasions. Taking him from his legitimate business for a third inquisition almost amounts to harassment, and he felt he needed a friend at his side to guide him.’

‘I love the way you talk,’ Slider marvelled through his frustration. ‘I suppose what that means with the peel off is that he’s not going to tell me anything?’

‘That depends on what you ask him,’ Stevens said, obviously enjoying himself hugely.

‘I’m glad someone’s having fun,’ said Slider. ‘All right, let’s get this over. I wish you’d remember sometimes,’ he added as they headed for the interview room, ‘that we’re supposed to be on the same side.’

‘Not we,’ Stevens said. ‘Only you.’ He patted Slider on the shoulder. ‘You need a holiday, old son. Cruise in the Caribbean, maybe. I’ve just come back from one and it’s lovely there this time of year.’

Sonny Collins sat almost bursting out of his jacket with subdued power and emotions, but – interestingly to Slider –seemed less at ease with David Stevens beside him than he had seemed without. At every question he looked at the solicitor for instructions on how to answer, which seemed to inhibit him, especially as for the most part the sublimely relaxed Stevens merely twinkled at him.

It was as Slider expected: Collins would tell him nothing.

‘Mr Collins,’ Slider said patiently, ‘we know that you knew Lenny Baxter, so why do you keep denying it?’

‘Never seen him before in my life,’ Collins repeated.

‘You called him by name in the presence of Eddie Cranston.’

‘Eddie told you that? He’s a lying toe-rag.’

‘I agree with you,’ Slider said. ‘Eddie’s scum, but in this case he’s telling the truth. You and Lenny Baxter did business together.’

‘Prove it.’

‘I have a witness who says you did.’

‘He’s lying too.’

‘I don’t think so. He worked alongside Lenny.’

‘So where is he, then?’ Collins said defiantly. ‘What’s his name?’

Slider put his hands flat on the table. ‘Look, Sonny,’ he said, ‘you know that we’ve got an ongoing investigation into your little doings. If you don’t start co-operating with me—’

Stevens intervened. ‘Sounds like the opening phrases of a threat. You will be careful not to threaten my client, won’t you?’

Slider tried to ignore him. ‘Lenny Baxter was killed, and I think you know a lot more about it than you’ve said. Who was Lenny working for? Tell me that, and maybe it’ll be enough from you for now. We’re looking for a murderer. I don’t want to clutter up my desk processing you for whatever little games you’re mixed up in. Buy yourself some time, Sonny. You can clean up your act before we come after you. Tell me who Lenny was working for, and go back to your pub with an easy mind.’

Collins, sitting up straight as a ramrod, looked scornful. ‘Easy mind? What do you know about it? You don’t know who you’re dealing with.’

‘My client has nothing more to say to you,’ Stevens intervened smoothly.

‘Who, Sonny?’ Slider urged. ‘Who am I dealing with?’

‘You got nothing on me!’ Collins said. ‘I’m saying nothing. I want it on record. I know nothing and I’ve said nothing.’

‘He must be a pretty big shit if he can put the frighteners on you,’ Slider said with interest. ‘What can he do to you, Sonny?
Lose you your job? I can do that. If you know something and don’t tell me, I can have you for obstruction. Maybe perverting the course of justice. You can go down for that. How would you like a spell inside? Plenty of people inside would admire your fine physique. I’m sure you’d make lots of new friends.’

‘Do it then. I don’t care. It’d be a piece of piss compared with—’ He stopped himself, and his good eye swivelled round to Stevens. ‘I want out of here!’

‘Unless you are intending to charge my client...?’ Stevens said on an interrogative note, looking at Slider, who waved a negative hand. ‘Then my client is free to go.’

Slider looked sadly at Collins. ‘You leave me with no option but to bring forward the investigation into your other activities. Everything’s going to come out. All the little bits of business going on at the back door. We’ve got plenty on you already and if you don’t think we’ll get the rest you overestimate the loyalty of your customers. You’re going to go down, Sonny –and all for want of a name. That’s all you have to do, give me the name.’

Collins, already on his feet, paused, clenching his fists down by his sides. It seemed a curiously involuntary gesture. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said again. ‘If I gave you his name—’

‘This interview is over,’ Stevens said.

‘He’d never know it was you,’ Slider said, holding Collins’s gaze.

‘Over,’ Stevens repeated.

‘I’d
know,’ Collins said with finality. ‘Do what you like, I’m saying nothing.’

It was an odd little emphasis that puzzled Slider.

Atherton sat on the windowsill, backlit by the sunshine like a Dutch old master. ‘So he’s tacitly admitted that he works for the same boss – or at least, does business with him.’

‘But he’s too scared to give the name,’ Slider said. ‘Scared or – something.’

‘Something? I’m dazzled by your eloquence.’

Slider frowned. ‘There was something odd going on there. Some emotion or concern I couldn’t guess at, but it was stronger than the fear of prison.’

‘And Everet Boston’s scared blue. This man provokes powerful loyalties.’

‘Oh, so you believe in the big boss now?’

‘Do me a lemon.’

Slider looked worried. ‘I’m wondering about David Stevens.’

‘Don’t. That way lies madness and destruction.’

‘But I can’t believe Collins would have the money or the know-how to hire him, and if it’s not the brewery—’

‘Then it’s Mr Big retaining him for defence of one of his minions?’ Atherton said.

‘Shoring up a potentially weak place in the organisation,’ Slider concluded. ‘But if that’s the case then Stevens knows who he is.’

‘As I said, that way lies madness,’ Atherton repeated. Anyway, it’s all pure conjecture. You know my feelings about this whole Mr Big story.’

‘You think I’ve got a Moriarty complex.’

‘I think small-time crooks like to talk big. If Boston’s right about Lenny dealing drugs, it’s more than likely he was doing a spot of trade in the park and one of his customers was blasted and did him to avoid having to pay.’

‘But then why didn’t they take the money?’ Slider objected. ‘And where’s the lock and chain?’

‘I think you can get too hung up on the lock and chain. They’ll turn up somewhere.’

‘They irritate me.’

‘Maybe the park keeper’s got them.’

‘Maybe. I think we’d better have another word with him, at least clear up how Lenny was able to use the park as his office. Tell Mackay to go and fetch him in. He’d better check with the council first to find out where he is. I don’t suppose he spends his entire day hanging around the one park.’

The telephone call established that Ken Whalley had not been in to work. It was natural enough, said the woman in the parks department, after such a terrible shock. Two weeks’ compassionate leave, they’d given him, the same as you get for a close-family bereavement. They were going to arrange counselling for him, as soon as he phoned in to say he was ready for it. He was at home as far as she knew. She didn’t think he had any family or anything, so unless he’d gone away for a holiday …

‘Found him cowering indoors with the chain on,’ Mackay reported when he had brought him in. ‘Wouldn’t answer the door at first, and even after he’d seen my brief it took me ten minutes to talk him out. He thought I was from the council, come to tell him he’d got the sack.’

‘But they’ve given him leave,’ Atherton said. ‘Why would they do that if they were going to sack him?’

‘I don’t think he’s very bright,’ Mackay said. ‘Apparently they offered him counselling and he thought that was something to do with a solicitor. Thought it meant they were taking him to court.’

‘What for?’

‘Dunno,’ Mackay shrugged. ‘He’s not making much sense.’

When Slider went downstairs he could see why. Ken Whalley had gone downhill since Tuesday. He was unshaven, his hair was a wild bush, and he smelt as if he hadn’t washed in as long as he hadn’t shaved. He was wearing a pair of black shell-suit bottoms and an indescribably grubby teeshirt, and his bare feet were shoved into flip-flops. His pudgy face seemed to have melted into a shape of woe and the hair sprouted from it in irregular patches like mould. His droopy basset-hound eyes raised themselves to Slider’s face in abject misery. He was a bad dog, and he had come to be punished.