by J F Straker
They felt mentally dazed. It had come so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that they could not quite believe it. Forthright took a long pull at his beer; Chitty leaned forward for the bottle and helped himself. Wells, unable to keep the relief out of his voice, and speaking solely because he felt somebody ought to say something, said, ‘What happens if the police arrest us? How do we stand with you then?’
‘Call me as a witness for the defence, as Harry suggested,’ Loften said with a smile. ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, however.’
Wickery, naturally more suspicious than the others, was puzzled. What exactly had been the point of their discussion? They had told Loften little that he did not already know or could not have guessed, nothing had been said that could have helped him to make up his mind. Did that mean he had decided on his course of action even before discussing it with them? But, then, why get them together, why all the argument?
Something that Loften had just said gave him the clue.
‘What did you mean by saying ‘if we are prepared to be reasonable’?’ he asked evenly.
Loften turned to face him. The smile was still there.
‘Well —’ he said, and paused. He picked up a dead match from the ash-tray and began to twirl it between finger and thumb. ‘Maybe you chaps don’t know this, but my share in the business is small. I’m not a rich man — far from it, unfortunately. Things were looking up, however, until you took a hand. I don’t know what happens now, but I’m damned certain you’ve done me a power of no good. I’ve seen White’s solicitor, and he says that so far he has found no trace of a will; if there isn’t one the garage may have to be sold. If I had the money to buy it I would — to my mind it’s a damn’ good proposition. But as things are...’ He sighed. ‘Well, you’ve done me out of a living, I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘How are we supposed to be reasonable?’ Wickery persisted.
‘If I’m to stick out my neck to save yours I’m not doing it for nothing,’ said Loften. ‘It wouldn’t make sense, would it? Not after you’ve done your damnedest to ruin me.’
Forthright took a deep breath. ‘So that’s it,’ he said. ‘Blackmail, eh? Another White.’
‘Not blackmail, Harry.’ Loften looked hurt at the accusation, vaguely surprised that such a thought could have entered the other’s head. ‘Just a little monetary appreciation of what I’m doing for you.’
‘Appreciation my foot!’ Chitty stood up. ‘Why, you dirty —’
‘Just a moment, Dave.’ Wells turned to Loften. ‘How much?’
‘Well, the money you pinched from the garage was partly mine, so I imagine I’m entitled to at least half of it. Suppose you hand that over for a start?’ He turned to Wickery. ‘If your wife is the sole relative, Bert, she may inherit. In that case you might care to increase my share in the business; it’d be a gesture, don’t you think? Or you might care to sell out on somewhat advantageous terms — advantageous to me, of course. As I told you, I’m short on capital. However, that must wait — but I could do with a hundred or two right now.’
They were all on their feet now. They stood close to the table, a mixture of emotions depicted on their faces. Chitty’s was the most expressive; anger, fear, frustration —they were all there. And, looking at those four menacing figures, Loften’s smile became a little forced. His mouth twitched nervously.
‘Rough stuff won’t help you,’ he said, his eyes fixed on Chitty’s large hands now curled into fists. ‘Knowing the type of men I was dealing with, I’ve taken the necessary precautions. My solicitor has a sealed letter containing all the details. If anything happens to me that goes to the police.’
If violence had been in their minds that stopped them all, strangely enough, except Forthright. It seemed that his self-control, so patiently exercised until now, had at last been exhausted. Pushing Wells aside, he walked slowly round the table, his grim face contorted with rage. Loften got up quickly, placing the chair between them.
‘I warn you, Forthright, you’d better not start anything.’ His voice was pitched a little higher, but it was still under control. ‘You’ll hang if you do, all of you. I’ll see to that.’
Wells and Wickery came quickly to his aid. They knew Harry, knew that there wouldn’t be much left of Loften once Harry started on him. And although the sight of a well-battered Loften might afford them some satisfaction, it would be very short-lived. Loften, as he had threatened, would see to that.
But Forthright did not move, made no effort to free himself of their detaining hands. He just stood there, his face a mask of hate. To Wells, fearful of what might happen if he went berserk (for Chitty, he knew, would aid him), the moments passed like hours.
Slowly their captive relaxed.
‘All right,’ he said hoarsely. ‘All right, I won’t touch him.’
The hate left his eyes; his face was without expression. He walked back to where his beer stood on the table and drank deep. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he said, ‘You won’t get any money out of us, Loften. We don’t know where it is or who has it.’
Loften’s face darkened. It may have been due to the dropping of the ‘Mister’ or to the refusal of the money.
‘That could be as unfortunate for you as it is for me,’ he said.
Forthright shrugged his shoulders, indicating that he washed his hands of the matter. Wells hastened to explain about the money.
‘Too bad,’ said Loften. ‘Well, if you can’t persuade the thief to disburse you’ll have to fork out some other way. We could try White’s method, for instance.’
He had by now dropped all pretence, he was just a blackmailer seeking to make what he could out of their critical position. ‘I need money, and you chaps are going to provide it — or else.’
‘You’ve got a big mouth, you swine,’ said Chitty. ‘Don’t open it much more or one of us is going to close it for you good and proper.’ He stretched a brawny arm across the table and slowly clenched his fist. ‘See what I mean? We’ve done one murder and we may as well make it two.’
But Loften was not intimidated; he knew that the moment of violence, if there had been such a moment, was past. Words could not harm him; they were welcome to their words.
He shrugged his shoulders and casually lit another cigarette.
Wells wanted to get the conversation on to less explosive lines. ‘Maybe it’s fair you should get something for helping us,’ he said. ‘But we’re broke, and that’s that. You can’t get blood out of a stone.’
‘If you are helping us,’ Forthright added. ‘It’s my belief you’re running with the hare and hunting with the hounds. Why else should the police be raking up the accident to Mrs Gooch?’
‘Who says they are?’
‘Willie Trape. And you’re the only one, outside of us, who could have told them.’
Loften looked surprised. ‘They didn’t get the idea from me,’ he said. ‘And I’m not the only person who knows, either. There’s Susan.’
‘Leave my sister out of this,’ Chitty said roughly. ‘If she didn’t tell them about White she certainly wouldn’t let on about Mrs Gooch.’
‘Please yourself,’ said Loften. ‘There’s no one else.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ said Wickery. ‘There is someone else.’
At first he had not listened to their talk. He had been thinking of Doris, of what she would do if she were to inherit her uncle’s share in the garage. But mention of Mrs Gooch had returned his thoughts to the evening it had all begun, and in a moment of clarity (and there had been few such moments since) he had realized something which had hitherto occurred to none of them.
They looked at him in surprise tinged with suspicion. Had Bert gone nuts? There couldn’t be anyone else. Only White — and he was in no position to talk.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Loften, as puzzled as the others. ‘Who?’
‘We were mugs not to think of it before,’ said Wickery, shaking his head. ‘Or maybe we had so much on our pla
tes we just couldn’t cope with any more. But what was White doing, parked in a car at that time of night?’
‘We’ve been into that before.’ Forthright sounded impatient. ‘He was with a woman.’
‘That’s right — he was with a woman.’ Wickery’s voice came alive. ‘But what woman? That’s the point, you see. Because, whoever she was, she must have had just as good a view of what happened as White did. She knows we killed Mrs Gooch.’
They had not switched on the radio that evening; Forthright had explained to his mother that Loften was coming, that they had important matters to discuss concerning their future at the garage. Only the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece disturbed the sudden silence that now fell on the room. Their minds, attuned as they were to disaster, seemed unable to cope with this further shock, this spectre that Wickery had conjured out of the past to mock their futile efforts to evade the consequences of their crime. They were as statues, gazing blankly at Wickery. A cigarette drooped from between Chitty’s lips, his hand arrested in mid-air on its way to remove it; Wells sat with his hands on his knees, elbows out, his wizened face puckered into still more lines; Forthright’s hand rested at the back of his head, which he had been scratching in bewilderment at Wickery’s assertion that there had been another witness to the accident. Even Loften seemed disconcerted. His lower jaw had dropped slightly, his eyes were fixed intently on Wickery.
Wells was the first to speak; not an intelligible statement, merely a string of oaths. But it brought the statues to life.
They had dealt with White, and no doubt they would find a way of dealing with Loften; and Susan did not constitute a serious threat. She was Dave’s sister; she would not give them away. But this unknown woman whom Bert had so suddenly resurrected — they could not deal with her. She took no form in their mind’s eye, they could not point a finger or utter a name, saying ‘it is this woman’ or ‘that’; and because she was so utterly and completely intangible, the menace of her existence was the greater.
‘It might be anyone,’ muttered Forthright. ‘Anyone. We could pass her in the street and not know her. It’s...it’s...’
For once words failed him.
Chitty said nothing. He looked baffled and bewildered. He could not relieve his feelings in anger, for there was no one on whom to vent it. And anger was Chitty’s safety-valve.
‘Yes, that’s quite a thought,’ said Loften. ‘I’m surprised none of you got around to it before, seeing you’ve had over a year to chew on it. It didn’t occur to me, of course, because I’ve only been in the know for a week.’ He lit a final cigarette. Wells fancied he expected them to say something, but no one did. After a moment or two Loften stood up, pushing his chair under the table. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to deal with it; it’s your worry, not mine. Only don’t forget that this woman is only a witness to Mrs Gooch’s death — not to White’s. If she exists at all, that is. And White’s death is your biggest worry, I imagine.’ He paused, then picked up his hat and coat and walked to the door before continuing. ‘Don’t let it slip your minds that I’m expecting something on account — and that I’m not prepared to wait indefinitely.’ Again he paused, and again no one spoke or even looked in his direction. ‘Well, good night,’ he said, rather more subdued. ‘See you in the morning.’
When the door had closed behind him Forthright got up and opened a window. ‘We can do with a little fresh air,’ he said. ‘The room stinks.’
‘We always said he was a mean devil,’ said Wickery. ‘Well, now we know just how mean he can be.’
‘We can deal with Loften,’ Forthright said. ‘It’s this woman of yours that’s the real menace now. If she’s told the police about Mrs Gooch it’ll be because she knows White was blackmailing us. She’d have told them before, else. And with a cast-iron motive like that they’ll chivvy us around until they get us.’
‘Maybe White paid her to keep her mouth shut,’ said Wells.
Chitty was more interested in Forth-right’s first statement. ‘How do you reckon we can deal with Loften?’ he asked.
‘Not the way you think.’ Forthright was curt, suddenly remembering how he had allowed his temper to get the better of him during his verbal duel with Loften. That annoyed him. It was one thing to tell a man what he thought of him, to curse him, even to hint at reprisals; but to offer physical violence and then not go through with it was a betrayal of his own manhood. ‘String him along for a bit, and in a week or two he damned well dare not go to the police.’
‘H’m. I’d feel safer if he was out of the way.’
‘That’s what you said about White.’ Wickery’s tone was bitter. ‘And look where we are now. Harry’s right. If we can keep Loften away from the police long enough we’re safe. As far as he’s concerned, anyway. But can we? I doubt it.’
He had already discarded his belief that Loften only wanted power.
‘So do I,’ Wells agreed. ‘He’s a greedy devil, and he wants that money. If he don’t get it I reckon he’ll turn nasty.’
Wickery nodded. ‘He’s no fool; he knows it’s now or never. And he probably thinks we’re bluffing about not knowing who’s got the money.’
‘Well, he won’t get it by going to the police,’ said Forthright.
‘No. But you heard what he said about White not having made a will and Doris being his only relative.’ Wickery spoke softly, almost apologetically. It was a possibility he did not wish to publicize. ‘Well, I don’t know much about the law, but I shouldn’t think Doris would ever get the money if it was proved we killed him. That might mean Loften would be able to buy the place dirt cheap. I don’t know, of course; but he might. And in that case it’d pay him to get us out of the way. Particularly if he thinks we’re not going to hand over the money.’
‘Yes, there’s something in that,’ Forthright agreed.
‘And even if he doesn’t expect to make a bean out of it he’s a big enough swine to shop us just for the hell of it,’ Wickery continued. ‘You can tell that from the way he carried on tonight.’
‘What happens if the police arrest just one of us?’ asked Wells, following his own train of thought.
‘They wouldn’t do that. It’ll be all or none.’
‘But they might,’ the little man persisted. ‘They might hope he’d split on the others.’
‘He’d be a damned fool if he did,’ said Forthright. ‘That’d be signing his own death-warrant. He’d just have to sit tight and say nothing until we got a lawyer to act for him.’
‘About Loften,’ said Wickery, impatient at this deviation. ‘It seems to me it’s up to the chap that took the money to hand it over to him. That’ll keep Loften quiet long enough to make it dangerous for him to talk.’
‘He could still double-cross us,’ Wells said. ‘Keep most of it, perhaps, and hand over the rest to the police, saying we was trying to bribe him. That’d be a bit more evidence against us, wouldn’t it?’
‘It could be,’ Forthright said thoughtfully. ‘But it could be evidence against him, too.’
‘Against Loften? They’re not after him, are they?’
Not yet.’ Forthright did not wish to pursue that train of thought; it needed more careful consideration. ‘Anyway, how could a chap hand the money over to Loften without giving himself away?’
‘He could leave it in the office when no one was around, or shove it through the letter-box at Loften’s house,’ Wickery suggested. ‘There’s lots of ways.’
‘Let’s hope he does, then,’ said Wells. ‘I’d like to think we hadn’t got that devil chasing us. But about this woman, Bert? What the hell can we do about her?’
‘Damn all,’ Forthright said briefly. ‘We haven’t a clue.’
‘Haven’t we? I’m not so sure.’ Wickery looked at Wells. ‘Molly’s been out in White’s car, hasn’t she?’
Anger blazed instantly in the little man’s eyes.
‘Damn you, Bert, you’ve no call to say a thing like that. Molly wasn’t one of White’s fancy piec
es, and you know it. All she did was to accept a lift once or twice.’
Chitty came to his support. ‘You leave Molly out of this, Bert Wickery. She wasn’t ever in White’s car except as Pop said — and that was only after me and her had quarrelled. A year ago she’d hardly spoken to him.’
‘Are you sure?’ Forthright asked dubiously. ‘I remember Pop saying’
‘I don’t care what Pop said; I tell you straight, Molly never went with White until we quarrelled. And that was months after the old woman was killed.’
‘You’d say that, of course,’ said Wickery. ‘You and Pop are bound to stick up for her. But there’s no proof —’
‘We don’t need proof, blast you!’ Wells might occasionally speak disparagingly of his daughter, but he would allow no one else to do so. ‘Molly isn’t that kind of girl, and I won’t have you or anyone else saying she is. Maybe she acts a bit silly at times, like all young things. But that don’t mean she’s bad, like you’re trying to make out.’
‘I’m not trying to make out anything of the sort. I’m only saying that —’
‘Molly was out that night,’ Forthright interrupted. ‘I remember now — Dave said he’d called to tell her about the job, and she was out. Know where she went, Pop?’
‘How the hell would I know? And even if I did, I wouldn’t remember it now. That was over a year ago.’
‘But it was a rather special evening,’ Wickery pointed out. ‘Me, I can’t forget a single damned minute of it. I only wish I could.’
‘That’s different. That part of it has nothing to do with Molly,’ Chitty said angrily. ‘Shut up about her, damn you, or I’ll knock your block off.’
‘You could ask her, Pop,’ Forthright persisted, ignoring Chitty’s outburst. ‘It wouldn’t do any harm. And it seems a bit odd to me that Molly should have gone out that evening. She must have known Dave would want to tell her about the job he’d been after.’