by J F Straker
‘Why haven’t you?’ asked Forthright. He felt he had to say something. Anything to banish the sound of that ‘yet.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe because Susan’s a friend of mine and I feel I’ve let her down; my promised help turned out to be rather a flop. Maybe because you’re not bad chaps, really; I gather White treated you pretty shabbily, more or less drove you to it. Maybe because I didn’t think much of White myself, or maybe because I can’t afford to lose all my mechanics at one go. I could give you dozens of reasons — but none of them means much. Not when you compare them with murder.’
‘But that’s just what it wasn’t — murder, I mean,’ Wells put in eagerly. ‘It was an accident, Mr Loften, honest it was. You know us you know we wouldn’t do a thing like that.’
‘Murder or manslaughter, it’s still a pretty nasty crime,’ Loften said. ‘With Mrs Gooch, that makes two deaths chalked up to you fellows.’
Wickery thought the conversation was developing along the wrong lines. ‘We’re grateful to you for giving us a chance,’ he said, ‘but what happens next?’
‘God knows! I wish to blazes Susan hadn’t dragged me into this. Why the hell should I have to decide what’s to become of you?’ He kicked irritably at a nut, sending it skidding and rolling across the garage floor. ‘Well, I’d better hear what you have to say, I suppose. I’ll come round to your place this evening, Harry, and we’ll talk it over. But get this clear — I’m not making any promises, mind. Dave, you’d better run your sister home in my car. The rest of you might do a little work for a change.’
But their minds were too full of the horror of their position to deal adequately with work. The mere mechanical acts of tightening a nut, changing a wheel, cleaning a sparking-plug — these were possible; but with anything requiring precision, patience, or skill they found themselves repeatedly at fault. After a while they gave up trying. When Loften was about they went through the motions of the work, making a pretence of being absorbed in their job; but when he was in the office or engaged elsewhere they abandoned their pretence and gave themselves up to speculation on the future.
‘We’re worse off now than when White was alive,’ said Wickery. ‘At least he couldn’t have had us hanged for murder.’
‘You should grumble! Getting our own back on White was your bright idea,’ Chitty reminded him. He was as morose and irritable as before, but some of the fire had gone out of him. The magnitude of their present predicament seemed partially to have stunned him. ‘Any ideas for dealing with this little lot?’
Wickery kept a tight hold on his temper. A row with Dave might relieve his feelings, but it wouldn’t improve their position. ‘Don’t let’s start on that lark again,’ he said evenly. ‘If you hadn’t got drunk and half strangled me when I was driving — if Harry hadn’t persuaded us not to report the accident — there’s just no end to it. The question is, what do we do about Loften? He’s the menace now.’
‘Get rid of him,’ Chitty suggested. ‘What’s one more murder among friends?’
The others looked at him askance, uncertain whether he was serious or not. Wells decided that he might be.
‘That’s a damn’ fool thing to say, Dave. Loften’s done us no harm. We don’t want any more talk of murder — there’s been enough of that already.’
‘I don’t trust him,’ Chitty retorted. ‘He’ll cause trouble, you wait and see.’
‘Loften’s not the only menace,’ said Wickery. ‘There’s Susan. Are you proposing to do away with her as well?’
Chitty scowled, but said nothing. Loften had come out of the office and was watching them. Perhaps he guessed that they were discussing him, for during the rest of the day he was in the garage more than usual.
Just before they knocked off Willie Trape rode up on his bicycle. He nodded cheerfully to Wickery, who was working on a customer’s car in front of the garage. ‘Where’s Pop?’ he asked.
Wickery jerked his thumb towards the back of the garage. ‘In the workshop,’ he said.
Both Wells and Forthright were momentarily disturbed by the sight of the police uniform. Then they saw Willie’s beaming face and relaxed.
The constable had not come on business. ‘Sorry about tonight, Pop,’ he said. ‘I shan’t be able to make it.’
Wells looked at him in bewilderment. Then he remembered that Willie had been due to come round to his house that evening for a game of chess. They were neither of them good players, but they enjoyed a game.
‘A pity,’ he said. ‘We’ll fix another evening later.’
‘What’s the matter? Are they working you too hard?’ asked Forthright.
‘Not exactly. But you remember that accident on the Tanbury road, when old Mrs Gooch was killed?’
Forthright swallowed. ‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Well, it seems like they’re raking that up again. Of course, they never did catch the fellow that done it; but it’s over a year since it happened, so what chance have they got now?’ He sighed. ‘Still, if they want a further report, a further report they’ll have to have.’
‘Didn’t you make one out at the time?’
‘Yes. But it seems —’ The constable broke off and smiled deprecatingly. ‘Sorry, Harry, but this is something I’m supposed to keep under my hat. Official business, understand?’
‘That’s all right, mate,’ Forthright hastened to assure him. ‘Nothing to do with us.’
Wells added agreement. But I wish to God, he thought, now thoroughly alarmed, that it wasn’t anything to do with us!
8 Unknown Witness
Loften was punctual. There was a slight smile on his face as he entered the living-room and saw the four men awaiting him. Forthright wondered if it was the smile of the tiger; or perhaps he was contrasting his own appearance, immaculate as always, with theirs. None of them had slept much the previous night, and their haggard, harassed countenances showed that the strain was beginning to tell. Only Forthright had shaved; his was the only pair of eyes that met the newcomer’s squarely.
‘Well — where do we start?’ Loften asked pleasantly, with none of the irritability he had shown that afternoon. Wells felt relieved. It was going to be all right, he thought. ‘It’s you fellows who have to do the talking. I’m here to listen.’
‘I don’t know as there’s much for us to say,’ answered Forthright. ‘You know what we planned to do, and how it turned out. We’re in your hands, and that’s about all there is to it.’
‘I still can’t understand why you had to kill White,’ said Loften. ‘At least, I can see that you’re better off without him; but it seems such a monumental risk to take. Leaving out all question of right and wrong, it just doesn’t seem worth it.’
‘But we keep telling you, Mr Loften we don’t understand it ourselves,’ Forthright said earnestly. ‘We don’t know how it happened or who killed him. That’s the devil of it.’
Loften looked his astonishment. ‘Come now, Harry — you can’t expect me to believe that. You were all in it together, weren’t you?’
Forthright hesitated. Was it wise, he wondered, to let Loften have all the details? So far, if he chose to turn against them and inform the police, it was his word against theirs — provided, of course, that Susan could be persuaded to keep her mouth shut.
‘Only one of us was actually in White’s room,’ he said slowly. ‘And the way we fixed it we don’t know which one of us it was. Susan told you we didn’t plan to kill White, so you can guess it hit us pretty hard when we heard next morning that he was dead. You see, even if we wanted to we couldn’t split on the fellow that did it. That’s why we’ve had to back each other up and hope that the police can’t pin it on us. If they do we’re all for the high jump; all of us, not just one.’
Loften appeared to think this over. ‘How did you work it?’ he asked.
It was not a casual question — there was genuine interest behind it. But Forthright was still wary.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Loften, but that’s something we�
�d rather keep to ourselves. For the present, anyway.’
‘You mean — until you know whose side I’m on, eh?’
‘Yes.’
Loften shrugged. ‘Please yourselves. Only don’t misunderstand me if I say it sounds phoney.’
The others had so far taken no part in the conversation. It had been agreed beforehand that Forthright should act as their spokesman. But Wickery, now more at ease and impatient at so much verbal fencing, decided to ask a question that had been puzzling him.
‘If you knew what we were up to, Mr Loften, why didn’t you try to stop us?’
‘I did.’ The smile returned as he noted their astonishment. ‘Not successfully, I admit; but I tried. I was handicapped, though; I couldn’t speak to you openly without involving Susan — which I’d promised not to do. What’s more, I didn’t know all the details of your plan. I knew it was fixed for some time Tuesday night, but that was about all. For some reason or other I made up my mind you’d try to break in at the back — crooks usually do, I believe.’
Chitty scowled. He didn’t relish being called a crook, particularly by Loften. He muttered a few blasphemous oaths to relieve his feelings, but softly, so that Loften should not hear.
But Loften heard the sound of his voice and paused. ‘Yes?’ he inquired politely. ‘Nothing,’ said Chitty.
‘You didn’t say anything to White?’ asked Wells hastily. He sat next to Chitty.
‘No. I thought I’d catch you red-handed, so to speak. But it didn’t come off.’
‘You mean — you were actually there Tuesday night?’ asked Wickery.
‘I was. I hung around near the eastern end of the garage, at the back, from ten-thirty to twelve-fifteen; and perishing cold and tired I was, too, by the end of it.’
‘And you didn’t see us?’
‘No. If I had I’d have stopped you. That’s what I was there for. But I never heard a sound.’
The men looked at each other. It seemed impossible that Loften had not seen at least some of them, or at any rate heard them. True, it was a dark night, and he had stood at the far end of the garage; but even so...
As if reading their thoughts he said, ‘I did think I saw a light in the woods at one time. But it disappeared almost immediately, and I wasn’t keen to go haring off into the dark. Thought I might miss you. I suppose that was you?’
‘Probably,’ said Forthright, still being cautious.
‘I couldn’t see anything out of order when I had a final look round,’ said Loften. ‘How the devil did you get in?’
Was it possible, wondered Forthright, that Loften had not seen through their trick to get hold of the key? ‘We’ll leave that for the moment, if you don’t mind,’ he said.
‘As you wish.’ But it was not, thought Wickery, as Loften wished. No doubt he had expected a complete surrender. This attempt by Forthright to withhold essential details, to retain some fragments of the shield with which they had hoped to protect themselves (and which Susan had so rudely shattered), obviously riled him; not, Wickery suspected, because of his interest in the details themselves, but because it lessened his hold on them.
And suddenly Wickery realized, with a feeling of dismay, that what Loften wanted was power — the thrill of having the four of them completely under his thumb. That was why he had not given them away to the police, why he might never do so. Despite his affability, his apparent willingness to hear their side of the affair, they had given him a big stick, and he intended to use it. Only when necessary, of course, only when they didn’t dance to his tune. But what sort of a tune was he going to play? Loften, thought Wickery, could be as dangerous as White. He hadn’t got White’s biting, vicious tongue, perhaps, or his brutality; but he was probably just as cunning and just as ruthless.
‘I decided Susan must have got the day wrong,’ Loften was saying, once more urbane. ‘Either that, or you’d abandoned the idea.’ He took a cigarette and lit it, flicked the still burning match into the grate, inhaled deeply, and added through a haze of smoke, ‘Until White was found murdered, that is. That shook me, I can tell you.’
He did not look at all shaken at that moment. Because a smile would have been out of place, he surveyed them gravely, trying to impress them once more with the immensity of their crime and his own dilemma; but Wickery, with his new-found intuition, knew that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
Chitty said suddenly — but slowly, as though he was trying at the same time to appreciate fully the import of his words ‘So Susan was lying when she told the Inspector you’d been with her all the evening? You lied too, didn’t you? You weren’t at our place, you were hanging around the garage.’
Loften flushed angrily, shaken out of his complacence.
‘Of course we were lying — you damned well forced us to. If I’d told the police I was at the garage they’d have wanted to know why, wouldn’t they? That would have cooked your goose properly, my lad — even Susan hadn’t the heart to do that, and she’s as truthful a person as any I know.’
‘It wouldn’t have done you a lot of good, either,’ said Forthright. He was beginning to feel easier.
‘Why not? If you’re suggesting the police might have suspected me of the murder you’re forgetting I hadn’t a motive. There was no Mrs Gooch in my case, and no blackmail.’ He leaned forward, impatiently stubbing his cigarette into a metal ash-tray. ‘I’m damned if I know why I should submit to all this questioning. It’s you fellows who have to account for yourselves, not me.’
Forthright got up lazily and went to the cupboard, from which he produced a quart bottle of beer. Wells noticed with surprise that there were other bottles in the cupboard. How does Harry manage it? he wondered. Damned if I can afford to keep beer in the house.
There was a slight plop as the top was unscrewed. A wisp of smoke curled lazily from the mouth of the bottle. ‘Beer, Mr Loften?’ asked Forthright, as the golden liquid gurgled into a tilted glass.
‘No.’ Loften was annoyed. He lit another cigarette — hurriedly, as though he needed it to steady his nerves. Forthright passed the full glass to Wells and picked up another. ‘I didn’t come here for a booze-up. And it seems to me that you chaps are taking this a damned sight too calmly. Well, you’re not out of the wood yet, not by any means. I tell you frankly, if I hadn’t given my word to Susan you’d all have been in the can by now.’
‘If you’ll forgive my saying so, Mr Loften, somehow I can’t believe all that blab about Susan,’ Forthright said, handing Wickery his beer. ‘What was the real reason for keeping your mouth shut?’
Loften pushed his chair back and stood up, banging his fist on the table so that the glasses rattled and beer slopped on to the table.
‘You keep a civil tongue in your head, Forthright, or we’ll close this meeting here and now,’ he shouted furiously. ‘I didn’t come here to be insulted.’
Wells looked anxiously at the two men. They had agreed to let Harry run their party, but wasn’t he carrying things a bit far? Loften still had the whip-hand; if Harry got him properly rattled he might use it. Unconsciously he ran a finger round the inside of his collar. Chitty noticed the gesture and shuddered. It seemed to him symbolic, so that his own collar was suddenly tight and had in imagination already become a hempen rope.
He gulped down a mouthful of beer. The gas rose up and choked him, and he belched noisily.
‘I don’t think Harry meant to be rude, Mr Loften,’ he said awkwardly. Apologies didn’t come easily to Chitty, and he hated Loften for his association with Susan and his new power over them. But he hated still more the feel of that rope. ‘We all know you’re trying to help us, but I think —’
Wickery gripped his arm. ‘We’re not interested in what you think. Let Harry speak for himself.’
Chitty shook his arm free with an oath. ‘I’ve a right to say what I think, haven’t I?’
Loften looked pleased. This was better. Once they fell out among themselves they’d be easier to handle. He sat down and almost be
amed at them.
But Forthright wasn’t finished yet. ‘Just a minute, Dave,’ he said, and turned to Loften. ‘If you put us in the dock, Mr Loften, we’ll see that you’re called as a witness for the defence. How would you like that?’
Only Wickery guessed what he was at. Loften was as bemused as the others.
‘What the devil are you talking about, man? Me a witness for the defence?’
‘Why not? You’ve just told us you were at the garage Tuesday night, that so far as you know we didn’t go near the place. What better defence could we have?’
Loften digested this in silence. He leaned back in his chair and looked from one to the other of the four men. The wooden chair tilted dangerously, balanced on its back legs as he thrust out his legs and stuck his hands into his trouser-pockets.
I wish he’d fall and break his blasted neck, thought Wickery.
‘You want to think it out a bit more carefully, Harry.’ Loften’s tone was genial. ‘My evidence wouldn’t help you much after Susan had had her say; she lied to the police, but she wouldn’t lie on oath. Don’t make any mistake about that. I’d certainly admit that I didn’t see you; but the fact that I went up to the garage expressly to stop you from breaking in would just about dish you, I imagine. Particularly as I’d also have to admit that I was only watching the rear, not the front.’
Harry’s trump card doesn’t seem to have got us anywhere, Wickery thought dismally. He decided it was time he took a hand.
‘You wouldn’t look too good yourself,’ he suggested, falling back on the line of thought that had prompted him to plan the downfall of Andrew White. ‘You knew a week in advance what we were planning to do, but you didn’t say a word either to White or to the police. And it’s two whole days now since White was killed. The police are going to ask you a lot of awkward questions, aren’t they, if you start blabbing now?’
Loften took his hands from his pockets, drew up his legs, and leaned forward with a business-like air.
‘It’d be damned tricky,’ he agreed frankly. ‘I’d look a ruddy fool, if no worse. Mind you, I wouldn’t let that stop me if I thought I’d be right to speak out, but I admit that’s one reason why I’m inclined to take a lenient view of what you’ve done. I know White was being bloody-minded, and I’m willing to take your word that his death was some sort of an accident. So if you chaps are prepared to be reasonable I’ll do what I can to help you.’