Gone Tomorrow (19 page)

‘I never meant it to happen. I never meant no harm,’ he whined before Slider had spoken. ‘I sweartergod, if I’d of knew, I wouldn’t never of done it. But when he ast me, I didn’t see no harm in it. I never knew what he wanted it for.’

‘All right, just calm down and we’ll go through it from the beginning,’ Slider said.

‘Am I gonner lose me job?’

Slider sat opposite him, wishing there were a way to stay upwind of Whalley’s miasma; but in a small enclosed space all directions were down. ‘Never mind about your job now,’ he said with measured sternness. ‘This is much more serious than your job. If you’re going to stay out of prison, you’re going to have to co-operate with me fully, tell me everything.’

‘Oh Gawd,’ Whalley said faintly. ‘What—?’

‘No, I ask the questions, you answer. That’s the way it’s going to be. Do you understand?’

‘Yessir,’ Whalley said. Being managed seemed to brace him a little, as Slider had guessed it would.

‘Now then, how did you first meet Lenny Baxter?’

Whalley licked his lips. ‘I never—’

‘The truth! You lied to me before. You said you’d never seen him before in your life. But that wasn’t true. You knew him very well. That’s why you were so shocked when you found him dead.’

‘I fought,’ Whalley said in the same wisp of a voice, ‘I fought I’d get the blame for it.’

‘How did you meet him?’

‘He come up to me in the park one day. Got chatting. Wanted to know about me routine, locking up and that.’

‘And he made you a proposition?’

‘Not then. Not right away. I see him in the park a few times. Sometimes he comes over and chats. Then one day he comes in when I was locking up—’

‘When was that?’

‘Last year. In the summer. I know it was summer ’cos it was a late lock-up. ’Cos it gets dark later in summer,’ he added helpfully.

‘I understand. Go on. What did Lenny say?’

‘He ast me to go for a drink. So I says yes. We went down the Coningham. That’s his local, he says. So we goes for a pint.’

‘And he made a proposition to you,’ Slider asked, hoping to speed matters up a bit. ‘What did he want you to do?’

Whalley looked down at his dirty fingernails, coming to the moment of shame.

‘He wanted me to borrow him the key.’

‘The key?’

‘To the Frithville Gardens gate. He said he’d give it back. I said I couldn’t, ’cos of opening up in the morning, so he said he’d come the next day after I opened and he’d have it back to me before I had to lock up.’

‘And what did he want it for?’

‘I dunno,’ Whalley said, still looking down.

‘I think you do,’ Slider said.

‘He never said.’

‘He wanted to get it copied, didn’t he? So he’d have a key of his own. So he could get in and out of the park when he liked. Isn’t that right?’

Whalley nodded. ‘Maybe. He never said, but – well, what else’d he want it for?’

‘Why did he want to get into the park?’

‘I dunno. He never said.’

‘You do know.’ No answer. ‘Look at me!’ The reluctant eyes lifted, full of fear and guilt. ‘What did he want to use the park for?’

‘I swear I dunno. It’s the honestroof.’

‘You must have known he was up to no good. Why did you go along with it?’

‘Well, he ast me.’

‘You could have said no.’

Whalley looked as though he might cry. ‘I was scared,’ he admitted. ‘He was big. You never saw him. He was a big bloke. I fought he’d do me over if I said no.’

Slider looked at the pathetic lump of putty. Ken Whalley was such a coward you could have held him up through the post.

‘So what did he offer you for letting him borrow the key? Was it money?’

‘No,’ Whalley said. ‘I never took no money off him, not a penny, only the drink he bought me.’

Slider detected a note Whalley was probably unaware of. ‘Not money. But he did give you something, didn’t he? What was it?’

‘I can’t,’ Whalley said, bowing his head. ‘I can’t say.’

‘You will say. What did he give you? Come on, Ken, I can sit here all day if I have to. You’re going to tell me. What did he give you in exchange for the key?’ Whalley muttered the answer, and Slider couldn’t catch it, it was so low. ‘What? Say it again. Louder. What did he give you?’

‘It was a woman,’ Whalley said, and from the slump of his shoulders, it was clear they were coming to the bottom of this sad creature. ‘It was this bird he lived with – Tina, he called her. She was gorgeous. A real cracker. Well, I’m – you know. I mean, look at me! I’m no good with women. They don’t fancy me. I’ve never had a proper girlfriend.’ Out with the plastic waterweed and the miniature gothic castle, they were down to the gravel now. ‘If you wanna know,’ he said abjectly, ‘I’d never done it. Never in me life. I’d never done – you know – with a woman.’

It was a sad confession, and as a man with plenty of you-know under his belt, Slider pitied him.

‘Are you gay, Ken?’

‘No! I’m not like that. I like women. Only they don’t like me. They laugh at me. And Lenny – he was such a big handsome sod. He could have all the women he wanted. He treated ’em rough and they loved it. But me … He got it out of me, when we had the drink, and he said if I’d do that little favour
for him, he’d set me up with a woman. I mean, set me up like – have sex with her. He said she’d do anything I wanted. I thought she’d turn out to be this real dog, you know what I mean? But he said no, he said, she was gorgeous. And she was,’ he finished simply.

‘So when did this meeting with Tina take place?’

‘Next night. After he give me the key back he said he’d meet me at locking-up time and take me to her. I never fought he’d be there.’ He looked at Slider to see if he understood.

‘You thought once you’d done your part of the bargain he’d have no reason to stick to his? You thought he’d stiff you?’

‘Yeah. Why wouldn’t he? He’d got what he wanted. But he was there. He played straight with me.’ The gratitude was pathetic. This, Slider saw, was one of Lenny’s many holds over Ken Whalley’s loyalty, that he had had the chance to cheat him and hadn’t taken it. ‘So he took me to a place – his flat, I suppose it was – and she was there. This black bird, Tina. A real cracker. And young and everything. He left me with her and – and we done it.’ He was silent a moment, perhaps reliving the moment. Then he said, ‘After that, I never see him again, not to talk to –only the once.’

‘When was that?’

‘About a fortnight ago. He come in the Smuts, where I drink, and he took me outside and he said, Ken, he said, have you been talking? And I says no, I swear – which I hadn’t. I’d never mentioned it to a soul. Why would I?’

‘To boast about the girl, maybe?’

‘What, tell everyone I’d never done it in me life till then? Anyway, who would I tell? I haven’t got any friends,’ he said with simple truth. ‘No, I never mentioned it to a soul. Anyway, he believes me, and he says, you just keep it that way, he says, ’cos he says if I ever say a word to anyone, he’ll know, and he’ll get me. He’ll beat me up, he says, so’s my own mother won’t know me. So I never said nothing.’

‘Even after he was dead?’ Slider said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me the truth when I first spoke to you? There was nothing he could do to you then.’

‘I fought you’d fink I did it. And I fought – all right, he was dead, but someone else would get me. I mean, he musta been in it with someone else. Like – a gang or summink.’

He lit a cigarette with fumbling hands. Slider noticed absently that it was a Gitane, unusual choice for a dork like Whalley. Then his attention sharpened.

‘Where did you get those cigarettes, Ken?’

‘Lenny sold ’em me cheap. I don’t usually smoke this kind. I don’t like ’em much, but he let me have ’em so cheap it was worth it.’

‘Where did he get them from?’

Whalley looked slightly surprised at the question. ‘I dunno. Abroad, I s’pose. Maybe that’s what he does – import and that.’

‘Illegal import,’ Slider said. ‘Otherwise known as smuggling.’

Whalley looked frightened again. ‘I dunno. He never said. I didn’t know they was illegal. I just – I just—’

‘Oh come on, Ken, you know how that game’s played. Don’t tell me you didn’t know they were smuggled.’

‘I never ast him. You didn’t know Lenny. You never saw him. You wouldn’t ast him questions. You just wouldn’t.’

‘So what was his game? What did he do in the park? Come on, don’t say you don’t know.’

‘I don’t, I swear. I didn’t want to know.’

‘If he was up to something really bad, like dealing drugs, that makes you an accessory. You can go down for that – jail, Ken. Think of that. Locked up for years with a bunch of big ugly tough bastards like Lenny, only not so kind-hearted. You help me out, tell me what Lenny was up to, and I might be able to keep you out of there.’

‘I don’t – I didn’t – I’d tell you if I could, but I
don’t know
!’ Whalley wailed in fear.

Slider shook his head and sighed. ‘Bad choice, Ken. Seriously bad choice. If you won’t help me, I can’t help you. I’m not going to put myself out for you. You’re going down. Not just accessory to Lenny’s game, but accessory to his murder. How does that sound? You’re going to prison for a long, long time.’

Whalley turned so white Slider thought he was going to throw up. The cigarette shook in his fingers and fell, rolling off the table into his lap; but he didn’t notice. His cowardly heart had tried to do a runner: his eyes fluttered upwards and he slumped into a dead faint, his head hitting the table top with a sound like a judge’s gavel.

‘I think you went a bit too hard on him, guv,’ Mackay said impassively.

Joanna sat up, her short, thick hair madly tousled.

‘Wow,’ she said. Succinct, but heartfelt.

‘Why, thank you, ma’am,’ Slider said. ‘And wow yourself.’

‘Food now,’ she pronounced.

‘No, no, you stay, I’ll go. I’ve had this planned for days.’

‘All right,’ she said, settling herself back on the pillows, ‘I’ll do the sultan bit.’

‘Sultana,’ he corrected, heading, naked, for the door.

‘I know, I’m your currant entanglement.’

‘More my raisin d’être,’ he said.

He was back soon with the tray: the best pâté de fois from the deli in Turnham Green Road, a ripe and creamy Gorgonzola, crusty French bread, fat Italian olives.

‘Wow,’ she said again.

‘Nothing but the best for my lady.’ He kissed her, getting back into bed.

‘And what’s this? Rocket?’

‘Dressed with lemon juice and black pepper, à la Atherton.’

‘You really did think this through! And what’s in the bottle?’ She shifted the cooler sleeve upwards to look at the label, and then turned a deeply impressed look on him. ‘Meurseult?’

‘Uh-huh,’ he said modestly, tearing bread.

‘I think I love you,’ she said. ‘This is not the most practical meal to eat in bed. We’re going to have serious crumbs in the sheets.’

‘I give you my personal promise to grind them to dust later on.’

‘Swank-pot.’

‘Pâté first or cheese?’

‘Pâté, please. Oh, yum! Pour me some wine, also. Thank you.’

Slider lifted his own glass to her. ‘To us.’

‘To us.’ They drank. ‘You come very obligingly to the point,’ Joanna said; but the phone rang.

‘Frolicking bullocks,’ said Slider, quite mildly in the circumstances. It was Atherton. ‘Good evening, Detective Constable,’
Slider said.

‘Sorry, guv. Did I catch you in the act?’

‘Never mind what I’m up to. Just make it quick.’

‘Your wish is my command. They’ve had a phone call at the office from Herbie Weedon, the Golden Loans geezer. He wants to talk to me. Apparently got something interesting to tell.’

‘Good,’ said Slider. ‘Anything else before I hang up?’

‘Slow down a bit. I rang him back and he sounds as nervous as a dog in a Korean restaurant. He said he couldn’t talk on the phone. He has to meet me, and he wants it to be now, tonight.’

‘Is he serious?’

‘I think so. I got the impression when I met him that he’s an old pro. He knows which way is up. If he’s decided to spill he’ll have something worth sticking the bucket under.’

‘I wonder why he’s changed his mind?’

‘I suppose I rang his bell,’ Atherton said modestly.

‘He could be working for the other side, hoping to find out what you know.’

‘I don’t think so. That wouldn’t frighten him. And he was frightened.’

‘All right,’ Slider said. ‘I’ll authorise it. Go and get him while he’s hot. But be careful. Don’t walk into a trap.’

‘Tell your grandmother. I’m the pump, he’s the pumpee.’

‘I didn’t mean that sort of trap.’

‘You and your Moriarty complex!’

‘I mean it. Be careful. I like your face the way it is.’

‘I’m not that sort of girl,’ Atherton said, and rang off.

‘What was all that about?’ Joanna asked, and he told her, and filled her in on the interview with Ken Whalley. ‘God, what a sleazy lot,’ she said at the end.

‘What did you want, glamour? All crime is sleazy,’ Slider said, ‘and murder’s the sleaziest of all.’

‘Never mind glamour, you might once in a while investigate some people with nicer habits,’ Joanna said. ‘This Lenny, lending his girlfriend out like a bicycle!’

‘Yes, he’s not turning out to be a very lovable chap, our Lenny. Still, he did give Ken Whalley the only happy memory of his life.’

‘You men!’ Joanna said. ‘How can there be any pleasure in having sex with a stranger you’ll never see again, knowing they’re doing it purely as business? And she probably didn’t even get paid!’

‘Oh, that’d make it better, would it? If she got paid?’

‘Better for her, anyway.’

‘And less of this “you men” business.’

‘It’s a man thing.’ She eyed him askance. ‘You don’t do it, but you understand it.’

‘Academically. It’s my job to. Are you working up for a quarrel?’

‘What, me?’ She leaned across and kissed his cheek contritely. ‘It’s just that the world is too much with us.’

‘Late and soon, when you’re a detective inspector,’ he agreed. ‘Have some more wine. Shall I put some music on, to soothe our ruffled breasts?’

‘Yes, that’d be nice.’

‘I’m getting good at this music business,’ he said, getting out of bed. ‘When I went over to Atherton’s the other day he had the Prokofiev violin concerto on, and I very nearly recognised it.’