by J F Straker
‘Of course he killed White!’ Wickery spoke impatiently. ‘Everything points to it, doesn’t it? His broken specs, and then his refusal to tell us where he broke them. And wasn’t it Dave who was all for killing White in the first place? Of course he did it. And what I say is, why should we bother to help him now? The police have got the murderer, haven’t they? We don’t owe him anything, not after the way he double-crossed us over the money. Let him stew in his own juice, that’s what I say.’
‘You mean you’d let him hang?’ asked Wells, aghast. ‘What sort of a friend are you?’
‘Dave and I have never been friends,’ Wickery growled. ‘You know that.’
‘So what? Wasn’t it you who put him up to it in the first place? If you hadn’t come out with this bright idea of yours for getting even with White —’
‘Cut out the sentiment,’ Forthright said gruffly. ‘We’ve got to help Dave whether we like it or not. We gave him an alibi, and if Dave killed White the police will say it was done with our consent.’
‘We ought to get him a lawyer,’ said Wells.
‘So we will. But a lawyer can’t get him off. The only way to do that is to give the police a nice red herring.’
‘Loften, eh?’
‘Yes. They didn’t charge Dave with murder, so I reckon they’re still interested in Loften. Maybe they think he killed White and that Dave knew about it. Something on those lines, anyway. It could be that they hope to get at Loften through Dave.’
‘But why should they suspect Loften when Susan gave him an alibi?’
‘They know there’s something between them, don’t they? And with Mrs Loften clearing off it makes Susan’s alibi look a bit fishy. They wouldn’t put a lot of weight on it, anyway.’
‘But what can we do?’ asked Wells. ‘We can’t just go to the police and say we think Loften killed White. They’d tell us to mind our own ruddy business.’
‘Not if we feed them some of the truth,’ said Forthright. ‘Not if we tell them we planned to rob White and then called it off —and then get Susan to tell her side of it. The police couldn’t ignore a lead like that.’
They’re still trying to shut me out, thought Wickery. They think that when it comes to a showdown I’ll give in same as I’ve done before. Harry’s so sure of that that he doesn’t even bother now to pretend they’re only trying to frighten Loften. If they can hang him they will — and they don’t care what I think, they don’t even bother to consult me.
But he said nothing. He soothed his anger and resentment with anticipation.
‘We’ve got to be damned careful,’ Wells was saying. ‘No rushing our fences. It’s all got to be tied up good and proper, so that he can’t wriggle out of it.’
Forthright nodded absently.
‘I wonder why the police searched Dave’s place first?’ he said. ‘Could Loften have put ‘em up to it? He was out with the Inspector this morning.’
‘Loften wouldn’t know which of us had it,’ Wells objected. ‘And why should he do a thing like that if he hopes to get money out of us?’
‘Perhaps he’s tired of waiting, thinks we’re not going to stump up. Well, if it was him that sold the idea to the police he’s put another nail in his coffin. He went back to see Susan after he left the garage Tuesday night — that’ll come out when Susan says her piece. The Inspector won’t have to do much thinking to realize he could have hidden the money in Dave’s garden then.’
Wickery could stand it no longer.
‘Haven’t you forgotten me?’ he asked, his voice trembling. They looked at him, startled, a little ashamed because they had forgotten him. ‘I said I wasn’t going to have you do this, didn’t I? Well, I meant it — by God I meant it! You try and pin this on Loften and I’ll tell the whole story — Mrs Gooch, White, everything. I let you talk me into running away from Mrs Gooch, but you won’t talk me into this. Not in a month of Sundays you won’t.’
He stood glaring at them, fists clenched, his body quivering with passion. And Forthright knew that he was beaten. Maybe, when death was a little nearer, when the law had him in its grasp, Bert would weaken. But not now.
‘Okay, Bert, have it your own way,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll think of something else.’
Wickery had worked himself into a mood ripe for battle. This sudden capitulation by the enemy left him at a loss. Victory had been too easy. He had wanted a fight, and now there was no one to fight. Mouth slightly open, he sank into a chair.
‘You mean that? It’s not another of your blasted tricks?’
‘Of course I mean it. Hell, we couldn’t pull it off without you, could we?’ Forthright said reasonably. But anger and resentment burned deeply in him. It was true they couldn’t do it without Bert, but why should the fool choose this of all times to assert himself? Now, when they had Loften where they wanted him!
Wells had taken no part in this flare-up. It had been so sudden, had died so quickly, that he hardly realized it had happened. But as the significance of it gradually dawned on him he began to protest volubly.
‘Damn it, Harry, we must go on with it; it’s our only chance.’ He turned angrily on Wickery. ‘You and your perishing scruples —who do you think you are, the Archbishop of Canterbury? You won’t feel so damned righteous when you’re sitting in the condemned cell, mate. But you’re not going to put me there, I’ll see to that. Not ruddy likely!’
‘Shut up, Pop.’ Antagonism, Forthright knew, would only harden Wickery in his attitude. If he’d made up his mind to be a martyr he would welcome it. ‘You can’t force a chap into doing something he doesn’t think is right.’
‘But what else can we do?’ wailed the little man.
‘We can tell the truth,’ said Wickery. He was filled with a sense of well-being, and for the first time since that night fifteen months ago he was almost happy. He had stood out against the others and won; and what made him feel so good was that he knew he was right. ‘If we have to, that is. But they’ve got Dave and —’
There was a loud knock on the front door. The three men looked at each other. ‘The police?’ suggested Wickery.
‘Perhaps. Might be Loften.’ Forthright turned as he reached the hall. ‘If it’s the police, Bert, you keep quiet. Understand?’
Wickery shrugged. ‘I’m not looking for trouble. But you keep off Loften, that’s all.’
It was the police.
‘Glad to find the three of you here,’ said Inspector Pitt. ‘Saves time.’
He settled himself comfortably in Forthright’s armchair. A detective-constable waited by the door. Wells licked his dry lips and wondered if there were other police outside the house.
‘What’s up now?’ asked Forthright. He proffered a cigarette, which the Inspector refused. ‘Seems like you chaps can never leave us alone.’
‘You can’t expect anything else if you get involved in a murder,’ Pitt said cheerfully. ‘I suppose you know we’ve arrested your friend Chitty?’
Forthright tried to match his cheerfulness.
‘He’ll be back. Dave didn’t kill White, Inspector.’
‘So he tells me.’
He seemed in no hurry to continue, and the men grew restless under his thoughtful gaze. Wells said, trying to keep the conversation on a light plane, ‘Are you here on business, Inspector, or is this just a friendly visit?’
‘You might call it that.’ Pitt drew a notebook from his pocket and thumbed the pages. ‘I’ve been looking into the death of a certain Mrs Gooch, an old lady who was killed by a hit-and-run motorist about fifteen months ago. Remember?’
Although it came as no surprise, it was an unpleasant shock to be actually confronted with the crisis they had been dreading.
‘I remember,’ said Forthright. ‘But why bring that up now? And what’s it got to do with us, anyway?’
‘I rather fancy you killed her,’ the Inspector said calmly.
Forthright hesitated, uncertain whether to be amused or angry. He chose the latter course.
‘I know. Most regrettable,’ said the Inspector. ‘I’m afraid the police slipped up badly there; they shouldn’t have so readily accepted your statement that you came home on leaving the George at ten o’clock. But you mustn’t blame me for their mistakes. Did you recognize the barman from the Boar’s Head when he called at the garage on Thursday?’
‘No,’ said Forthright. ‘Why should I? I’ve never been in the Boar’s Head.’
‘Well, he recognized you and Chitty. And according to him, the two of you were in his pub until ten-thirty the night Mrs Gooch was killed. Mrs Gooch happened to be his wife’s aunt, which fixed the evening in his mind; and apparently the Boar’s Head doesn’t get many customers drinking whisky the way you two seem to have downed it. Makes a difference, doesn’t it?’
They sat looking at him, trying to hide their concern. But they said nothing. It seemed useless to deny the accusation, yet they would not admit it until they had to.
The Inspector raised his eyebrows.
‘You don’t see the difference, perhaps. Well, you told Constable Trape that you were back at the garage by ten-twenty, so that was lie number one. Lie number two was your statement that you didn’t see Mrs Gooch —you must have seen either her or her body, for she started to walk home at the same time as you left the Boar’s Head. And it’s my belief that lie number three was when you said you didn’t kill the old lady.’
‘You can’t produce a witness to that, at any rate,’ Forthright said boldly. The Inspector, he thought, would have been more positive had the woman in White’s car come forward.
But Pitt was not to be drawn.
‘That’s as may be,’ he said. ‘But if you didn’t kill her why deny seeing her?’
‘Because we —’
They all looked at him; the Inspector with interest, the others frightened and angry. Forthright hesitated, and was about to continue when Wickery interrupted, his voice unsteady.
‘Shouldn’t you warn us, Inspector, before making these charges?’
‘I’m not making any charges, Mr Wickery, I’m merely stating my beliefs. I told you this is in the nature of a friendly visit.’
‘You’ve got a witness.’
Pitt turned to the detective by the door and nodded. The man left the room, closing the door behind him.
‘Well —you were saying, Mr Forthright?’
A nod from Wickery gave Forthright his cue.
‘All right, then, we saw her,’ he said defiantly. ‘But we didn’t kill her, and that’s gospel.’ He launched into his previously prepared account of how they had seen the old woman lying in the road and, finding she was dead, had placed the body on the grass and cleared off. ‘We realized we ought to have reported it; but a job’s a job, Inspector, and White wasn’t the sort to overlook it if he’d found out we’d been joy-riding in a customer’s car.’
Pitt thought this over.
‘Not bad,’ he admitted. ‘Not bad at all. Except that there was a witness to the accident, of course.’
Forthright gulped. ‘Who?’ he asked.
‘Why, Andrew White. Wasn’t that why you had to kill him — because he was blackmailing you?’
He said it so naturally that Forthright found himself wanting to deny the reason rather than the fact. He spurred his anger into action.
‘Have you gone barmy?’ he demanded. ‘You know damned well we never killed White, that we were playing cards all that evening in this very room.’
‘It was stupid of you to pretend to the womenfolk that you’d had your wages cut,’ went on the Inspector, ignoring this outburst. ‘I wonder they believed you; wages go up these days, not down. It certainly didn’t cut any ice with me — particularly after I’d had a look at the books. So why, I asked myself, should three apparently sober-living men (I’m excluding Chitty) have to resort to such a clumsy lie? Blackmail, I said. And when I discovered that your troubles began immediately after the accident, I put two and two together and made four.’
‘You may be good at arithmetic,’ said Forthright, ‘but that doesn’t make you a good detective.’
‘Then I considered this so-called alibi of yours — the card-party racket.’ The Inspector was unperturbed. ‘I didn’t think much of that either. It proves nothing except that you didn’t all leave this house together; Mrs Forthright herself admits that one or two of you could have done so without her being any the wiser. So we arrive at the conclusion that only one or two of you actually committed the murder, but that all were a party to it.’
Wickery shifted uneasily in his chair, and Forthright gave him a warning glance. He wanted no outburst from Bert at that stage. Inwardly he cursed the other’s presence. Without Bert this would have been a good time to distract the Inspector’s attention from themselves by introducing Loften as a red herring.
‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ he said.
‘Not all. There are still a few gaps, but we’ll fill them in in time.’ It sounded as though he were trying to complete a crossword puzzle. ‘I was rather hoping you fellows might help me there.’
That shocked them.
‘Got a nerve, haven’t you?’ said Wells. ‘First you tell us we killed White and then ask us to help you prove it. You think again, mate. We’re not that crazy.’
‘What was it you expected us to tell you?’ Wickery asked curiously.
‘What happened to the money, for one thing; the box was empty when we found it. And how you got into the garage — Loften’s key, I suppose, eh? Chitty’s spectacles — they fit in somewhere, don’t they? The little details, you see, that tie it all up. And I’d certainly like to know what made you decide, after all this time, that you’d had enough of being black-mailed.’
At least one of them thought how much he too would like to know what had happened to the money. And Dave’s spectacles — it was odd how much fuss they’d made about those spectacles and how little they seemed to matter now. Come to that, even the money was no longer important. There was no need to buy Loften’s silence now — they had a better way than that to deal with him. And for themselves there was a bigger issue at stake than a few hundred pounds.
‘You’re off the beam, Inspector,’ said Forthright. ‘We had nothing to do with White’s death, and we don’t know about any blackmail.’
‘The cash-box was found in Chitty’s garden,’ Pitt reminded him. ‘How do you suppose it got there?’
‘Planted. Dave wouldn’t be such a damned fool as to put it there himself, would he?’
‘Planted by whom?’
Forthright looked at Wickery. What he saw on the latter’s face deterred him. ‘How should we know?’ he growled, angry at having to ignore such a golden opportunity. ‘That’s your business, not ours. What did Dave say?’
‘That’s my business, not yours,’ the Inspector retorted without rancour.
There was a short silence. Wells took a crumpled packet of cigarettes from his pocket. ‘I don’t get this,’ he said, really puzzled. ‘Seems an odd way for the police to go about things, don’t it, asking chaps to help convict themselves? I shouldn’t have thought there was much future in it.’
‘Neither should I,’ Forthright agreed. ‘And if you arrested Dave why didn’t you arrest the lot of us, Inspector, if you think we were all in it?’
‘Ah!’ said Pitt. ‘I was coming to that.’
He was so long in coming to it that Forthright began hopefully to wonder whether the police case was so thin that they had had to resort to bluff, and whether, having had their bluff called, they had no answer to it. But eventually Pitt said, speaking slowly and weightily as though every word counted, ‘I said this was in the nature of a friendly visit, didn’t I? Well, I’ve got a good case against the four of you — for if one of you
killed White you’re all equally guilty. In law, anyway. But between ourselves I’ve an idea that you might not all be — well, morally guilty, shall we say? So I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.’
They eyed him uneasily. Was this a trick? ‘Not quite so cut and dried, eh?’ said Forthright.
‘You’ll see what I’m getting at,’ the Inspector continued. ‘You all had a strong motive for murder but that’s not evidence in itself. It could be that your Tuesday evening card-parties weren’t a put-up job, that you three at least had no thought of murder and took no part in it. I’m thinking that Chitty could have made some excuse to leave you that evening, slipped across to the garage, killed White, and returned here without you fellows being any the wiser.’ He paused, looking from one to the other. But they had nothing to say; they were too astonished, too doubtful of his motives. ‘I’m told he’s got a nasty temper, has Chitty; so perhaps he didn’t knuckle under as easily as the rest of you, or maybe he just needed the money.’ He turned to Forthright. ‘There’s a query there. Unless you gave him the key that you pinched from Loften, how did Chitty get into the garage?’
Forthright stared at him, shaking his head in bewilderment — not at the question, but at everything the Inspector had so far said.
‘Well, we’ll leave that for the present. Of course, we can’t deny that you would all be accessories after the fact. When White’s body was found I presume you either guessed or learnt from Chitty what had happened and decided to give him an alibi. That was stupid of you — stupid and criminal. But I suppose it’s only natural to want to stand by a pal.’
‘So what?’ asked Wickery, although he knew well what was coming.
‘A confession from the three of you on those lines and we’d have all the evidence we need against Chitty. Mind you, I’m not bargaining. All I can do is report the matter to the proper authorities, stressing your help to the police. It should make things a lot easier for you. But don’t quote me on that.’