by J F Straker
That jolted Wells. Even he could appreciate the force of Harry’s argument. But he would not allow them to see that his loyalty was shaken.
‘Nonsense,’ he blustered. ‘Damned nonsense! And anyway, how do you expect the girl to remember? It wasn’t a special evening for Molly, like it was for us.’
Forthright looked at him thoughtfully. ‘It could have been,’ he said. ‘See what I mean? I think you’d better ask her, Pop.’
9 Design for a Scapegoat
None of the men bothered to be punctual at the garage the next morning; had they had something better to do, or had they not felt that it was at the garage that either their hopes or their fears would be confirmed, they might have stayed away altogether. It would have shown Loften better than any words could do what they thought of him, and after coping for a day on his own he might not be so eager to hand them over to the police. Even the fact that it was pay-day made little or no difference: if Loften was out to soak them he wouldn’t be paying any wages — there would be no money for them that week.
But the garage drew them, and they came, however reluctantly.
Wickery had had a bad night. The tension between himself and Doris was increasing; if she spoke to him at all it was only on trivial everyday matters, and neither White’s murder nor the activities of the police were ever mentioned. Although Wickery was glad to be free of that topic, it frightened him to see how rapidly the rift between them was growing. He had always relied on Doris’s moral strength, her calm assurance when faced with the many little difficulties that had beset them in the past. Now, in this major crisis, he needed it more than ever.
Not until dawn was breaking had his tormented brain allowed him to sleep. It had seemed to Wickery then that he had not slept for weeks, and his last conscious act before dozing off had been to push down the little plunger on top of the alarm-clock by his bedside. To hell with Loften! he thought bitterly. I’ll have a bit of a lie-in if I can. I’m not getting up early for him.
Forthright too had slept little. But the habit of years had awakened him at the usual hour, and he had got up reluctantly. Loften or no Loften, there was his mother’s breakfast to prepare.
When he took it up to her she watched him anxiously as he busied himself with the tray and the bed-table. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his face was drawn and grey.
‘You look tired, Harry. You’ve been working too hard and keeping too many late nights. It’s a holiday you’re needing, boy.’ The many lines on her forehead grew closer together. ‘You wouldn’t be worrying about this murder, would you?’
‘No, Ma. I’m all right.’
‘The police haven’t been bothering you?’
‘No. They’re not interested in me. Don’t fret yourself so.’
Downstairs again, he wandered aimlessly about the house. But he did not want to be there when the woman came, and presently he put on his coat and went out.
He went by the road, and not by the track through the woods. He had taken a dislike to the track. As he neared the garage Bert Wickery crossed the road from the fields.
‘Something’s up,’ said Wickery. ‘There’s quite a crowd there.’
They quickened their steps. From the lean-to beside the garage most of the cars had been moved into the yard, and beneath it workmen were busy with pick and shovel. A pile of rubble showed that they had been busy for some time.
Wells saw them and came to meet them. He seemed agitated.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ he demanded of Forthright. ‘I was scared stiff thinking you wouldn’t get here in time.’
‘In time for what? What’s going on here?’
‘They’re opening up the old drain, the one you dropped the key into.’
‘Hell’s bells!’ said Wickery, aghast. ‘Who told them about that?’
‘Loften, I suppose. He’s there with the Inspector.’
Wickery hurried across to the pile of rubble. Loften saw him and nodded, frowning. But there was no opportunity for private talk; apart from the Inspector there were other policemen about. Wickery stood beside Chitty, and in silence the two watched the pile of rubble grow.
‘How deep is it?’ Forthright asked Wells. He seemed reluctant to approach nearer to the scene of operations.
‘I don’t know. It doesn’t signify, anyway. They’ll go on digging until they find it.’ Wells looked up at him, fear writ large on his brown wizened face. ‘What’ll we do, Harry? This’ll sink us.’
‘It may not,’ Forthright said thoughtfully, trying to calm the other’s agitation. They ought to look at ease, no matter what their feelings; one or other of the police might be watching them. ‘It may not, Pop. In fact, now I come to think of it I’m not sure we can’t make a good thing out of this. Let’s go into the garage; I want to talk to you.’
They were standing by a car, apparently working, when Loften came after them. As soon as they saw him they bent over the engine.
But Loften was not deceived. ‘You chaps turn up at any old hour of the morning and then stand about gassing,’ he said crossly. ‘It’s time someone did some work in this place.’
‘What’s going on out there?’ asked Forthright, disregarding this outburst.
‘They’re digging up the drain. The Inspector wants to have a look at that key you lost.’
‘Who told him about the key?’
‘I did, of course. He asked me if I had one, and I told him what had happened to it.’ Loften lowered his voice as he asked, ‘Why the interest? Anything wrong?’
His annoyance seemed to have left him. Forthright wondered if it had been assumed for the benefit of possible listeners outside.
‘If they’re looking for the key it means they think there was something fishy about my losing it,’ he answered. ‘I hope they find it. That’ll teach ‘em not to be so ruddy suspicious.’
‘Oh.’ Loften was taken aback. ‘Well, I’m with you there. The Inspector didn’t call me a liar straight out, but he couldn’t have looked more disbelieving.’
‘Getting worried?’ Forthright’s tone was deliberately insolent. He wanted to rile Loften. An angry man would be less likely to think carefully before he spoke.
The trick worked. An angry flush spread over the other’s pale face.
‘You chaps are a damned sight too uppish for my liking; it’s time you learned on which side your bread is buttered if you want to keep yourselves all in one piece. I’ve a good mind —’
He broke off abruptly. Inspector Pitt was at the door of the garage, apparently fiddling with the lock. Presently he walked across to them, followed by another detective. Wickery and Chitty hovered in the entrance.
The Inspector held out his hand, palm uppermost. ‘Is this your key, Mr Loften? No — don’t touch it, please.’
Loften peered at it. ‘I suppose it is. But one Yale looks very much like another, doesn’t it?’
‘How about you, Mr Forthright? Would you say that is the key you dropped down the drain last week?’
‘Goodness knows, Inspector. But if that’s where you found it — it must be, mustn’t it?’ Forthright’s tone was casual, almost disinterested. ‘Not likely to be a whole collection down there, is there? Why not try it in the lock? That’ll settle the matter.’
‘I’ve already tried it,’ said the Inspector. ‘It settles nothing — except that it doesn’t fit.’
‘Oh!’ Forthright turned to Loften. ‘You must have given me the wrong key, Mr Loften.’
He seemed in no way put out. But Loften was.
‘I didn’t do anything of the sort. It was the right key, and you know it.’ He looked at Pitt. ‘I don’t know what all this is about, Inspector, but I’ll swear I gave him my own key to the garage.’
The Inspector nodded.
‘You’ll have to do better than that,’ he said to Forthright. ‘If Mr Loften gave you the wrong key you couldn’t have used it to get into the garage — as I understand you did.’
‘Then you understand w
rongly,’ the mechanic said cheerfully. ‘I didn’t need it one of the other chaps opened the door for me.’ He turned to speak to Wells, but the little man had joined the others at the entrance. ‘Hey, Pop!’ he called. ‘Come over here a minute, you’re wanted.’
Inspector Pitt frowned. It was his business to summon a witness, not Forthright’s. But his annoyance was mild compared to Loften’s.
‘That’s not true!’ he shouted. ‘You put the key in the lock. Damn it, I was watching, I saw you do it! Nobody opened the door for you, that I’ll swear.’
Forthright shook his head. ‘No need to get upset, Mr Loften. I dare say it looked that way to you, but — Pop, remember last Friday when I dropped Mr Loften’s key down the drain?’
Wells nodded nervously. He wished Wickery or Chitty had been given his role. ‘What of it?’ he asked.
Forthright started to explain, but Pitt stopped him. ‘Let’s have it from Mr Wells, please.’
Wells did his best to look puzzled.
‘I don’t know much about it,’ he said haltingly. ‘Dave and Bert and me was in the workshop at the time. We heard someone bang on the door (we’d closed it to keep out the draught, the wind fair whistles through this place), but we didn’t pay any attention because Harry and Mr Loften were working on a car outside and could see to any customers what turned up. Then suddenly I thought maybe it wasn’t a customer, but one of them two wanting to get in. So I went and opened the door, and there was Harry. He came in for something they wanted, and then he went out again. It wasn’t until afterwards I heard he’d lost the key. I didn’t see him drop it.’
‘Had Forthright put the key in the lock when you opened the door?’ asked the Inspector.
‘I don’t think so.’ Wells sounded cautious. ‘He was holding it in his hand like he was just going to do so. He looked quite surprised, me opening the door at that moment.’
‘And when you turned the lock you didn’t feel any help from outside?’
‘No,’ said Wells. ‘Oh, no.’
‘Thank you, Mr Wells,’ said Pitt, and looked inquiringly at Loften. Forthright remained silent. Any expression of triumph would be harmful, he thought.
Loften glared at him balefully.
‘It’s not true,’ he fumed. ‘It’s —it’s not true, Inspector. I know I gave him the right key. What other key could I have given him?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
The Inspector’s voice was cool. Forthright decided it was time for him to turn the screw a little farther.
‘I remember you said at the time that you never used your key, Mr Loften. ‘I think that’s the one,’ you said when you gave it to me. I dare say that’s how you came to make the mistake.’
‘Did you say that, Mr Loften?’ asked Pitt.
‘I...I...I don’t remember. Yes, I probably did. But that’s beside the point, Inspector. I tell you I know it was the right key. There’s absolutely no doubt whatever.’
The Inspector’s eyebrows rose a little higher.
‘Apparently you weren’t very sure at the time, sir. Why are you so certain now?’
But Loften could only repeat, with increasing anger and incoherence, what he had already said. It was obvious that the Inspector was not impressed by his performance, and Forthright began to wonder, somewhat uneasily, whether Loften would be goaded into denouncing them. He had not realized that the man would so deeply resent this attempt to turn the tables on him; for Loften as yet had nothing to fear from the police and should, if he wished to help them, readily have shouldered the blame for what could have been made to appear as a perfectly innocent mistake. He heaved a sigh of relief when the Inspector cut short the argument, gave orders for the excavation to be filled in, and departed with his assistants.
Loften watched them go; then he turned menacingly on the four men. Now for it, thought Forthright, and nodded reassuringly at the others. They could not afford to panic at this juncture.
‘So that’s it, eh? You substituted a key of your own for the one I gave you, dropped yours down the drain, and kept mine. That’s how you got into the garage Tuesday night, is it?’
There was no surprise in his voice, only anger.
‘That’s it,’ Forthright agreed blandly. ‘I wonder you didn’t get around to that before.’
The two looked at each other steadily. Outside the workmen were busy with their shovels. Forthright hoped Loften would keep his voice down; he had no wish for their discussion to be overheard. ‘If you accept the murder I don’t see why you’re raising such a rumpus over our tricking you into letting us have the key,’ he said.
‘I’m not,’ Loften said unexpectedly. ‘As you say, I ought to have guessed what you were up to. What angers me is your deliberate attempt to put me in the wrong with the police.’
‘But I didn’t.’ Forthright’s tone was no longer insolent or provocative. Now that his object had been achieved he wanted to calm the man down. Loften was still a menace to them. ‘I merely said you gave me the wrong key by mistake. No one could blame you for that, could they? And how else could I explain away the key they found down the drain? You’ve got to be reasonable, Mr Loften.’
‘I’ve been a damned sight too reasonable, if you ask me,’ Loften retorted. ‘I didn’t ask to be saddled with all this responsibility, and I’m damned if I can see why I should be made a scapegoat for a bunch of tricksters like you four. I don’t mean to be, either.’
‘The Inspector wouldn’t have thought anything of it if you’d agreed with me that you might have been mistaken about the key,’ said Forthright. ‘Even now I can’t see that there’s much harm done.’
‘A hell of a lot,’ Loften said grimly. ‘He thinks I’m a liar; that I still have the key.’
Forthright said nothing. He could hardly admit that that had been his intention.
‘If you want to stay out of trouble you’d better not try anything like that again,’ Loften went on. ‘Maybe you think it’s too late for me to tell the police the truth, that you’re sitting pretty. Well, I wouldn’t bank on it if I were you.’ His tone changed. Now — how about that money? When do I get it?’
‘You haven’t had it?’ Wickery asked.
‘You know damn’ well I haven’t had it.’
Forthright tried to explain how they had hoped that the thief would hand it over anonymously, but Loften refused to listen. ‘You get that money and get it quick; I’m not giving you any more rope — except the one that’ll hang you,’ were his parting words.
They went into the workshop and stood around talking. Events were moving faster than some of them could cope with.
‘I thought he was certain to give us away when he was arguing with the Inspector.’ Wells had not yet recovered from his fright. It had been touch and go, he knew that. ‘What do you think stopped him, Harry?’
‘I was wondering the same thing,’ Forthright admitted. ‘I suppose he still thinks he’s on to a good thing and he can’t bring himself to let it go. What’s more, he knows damned well that, whether we hang or not, he’ll have a hell of a lot of explaining to do if the police find out the game he’s been playing. He’s in it almost as deep as we are now.’
‘You needn’t have piled it on so thick, though,’ said Chitty. He understood action, but he could not appreciate this trifling with words. You don’t tease a tiger, you shoot him; and if you don’t want to shoot him then leave him alone. That was the way he looked at it. ‘No point in getting his goat unnecessarily.’
‘But it was necessary.’ Forthright spoke impatiently. ‘You heard what he said — the police think he’s lying about the key. If he hadn’t been angry he wouldn’t have made such a fool of himself, he’d have made the whole thing seem unimportant. That would have foxed the police, they wouldn’t have known which of us was telling the truth. Now they think it’s us — which means they’ll keep a suspicious eye on friend Loften for a bit. That won’t do us any harm, will it?’
‘There’s nothing else against him,’ said
Wickery.
Forthright picked a spanner from the bench and swung it idly between finger and thumb.
‘There could be,’ he said.
‘What do you mean by that?’
The spanner slipped and fell. The noise as it hit the concrete made them jump.
‘I got to thinking about it last night,’ Forthright explained. ‘Suppose we get Susan to tell the truth — that Loften wasn’t with her Tuesday night, but up here — wouldn’t that make the police sit up and take notice? I bet it would. He’s hard up and he’s got an expensive wife — there’s your motive, for a start. And now they think there’s some funny business about the key! If I were a copper I’d take a damned sight more notice of Loften than I would of us. At least we had an alibi.’
‘It sounds all right,’ Chitty agreed. ‘Only if Susan tells the truth she’ll tell the whole truth; she’s like that. So the police would know why Loften was here that night.’
‘That wouldn’t matter so much. We could say Susan was right, that we did plan to rob the garage but called it off later. And Susan would agree that both Bert and I said there was to be no murder. That’d be a point in our favour.’
Wells nodded approvingly. At that moment he would have grabbed at any lifeline that was offered, and Forthright’s suggestion seemed to him a stroke of genius.
‘Loften had a key and we didn’t,’ he said. ‘And as the garage wasn’t broken into the murderer must have had a key.’
‘It’d be better still if Loften had the money,’ said Forthright. ‘If the police found that on him he’d be cooked to a turn. He’d never convince them we gave it to him, not even if he admitted blackmailing us.’
Uneasiness crept into their faces at mention of the money. It reminded them that they were by no means united, that there was a traitor among them. ‘There’s time yet,’ said Wells. ‘Give the chap a chance. He couldn’t do much this morning with all that shemozzle over the key.’