by Alan Hunter
The super stabbed a glance at Hansom and exploded: ‘Blast you, Gently! Can’t you understand my position? My men have done a good job and they look to me to back them.’
Gently continued: ‘If you do accept my advice it may be a help in clearing this matter up.’
‘It is cleared up!’ snarled Hansom.
‘It will suggest to the culprit that we aren’t satisfied. We may get a lead out of it.’
The super turned his back on them and fumed at the closed window. ‘I wish to God I’d been a whelk-seller! I wish to God I’d stopped in the bloody Army! Would anybody in his right mind be a police superintendent?’ He swung round on Gently. ‘Let’s get this straight – you want me to stand up my men and fob off the powers that be because you’ve got some blasted intuition – that’s it, isn’t it?’
‘Not intuition,’ murmured Gently, ‘just judgment based on experience.’
‘Intuition!’ barked the super. ‘Listen, Gently. Can you give me one good solid reason why Huysmann is not the murderer?’
‘I think so, if you really want one.’
‘Want one! Who am I supposed to be – the charwoman?’
Gently rubbed his chin with a stubby finger. ‘An hour or two ago some interested person tried to drop some masonry on my head,’ he said reluctantly. ‘It was a large lump, and it wouldn’t have bounced. Now why should anybody want to do that to a policeman?’
‘I could tell you!’ Hansom yipped.
‘You mean they tried to kill you?’ demanded the super.
‘I’m afraid they did. Which seems to indicate that somebody has grown dissatisfied with the course of my investigations – that somebody is deeply interested in having Peter Huysmann convicted. There can’t,’ added Gently, ‘be more than one reason for that … can there?’
* * *
Peter Huysmann had been fed and washed, but there had been no time to shave him. A mist of blond beard surrounded his rather long, drawn face and a darkness and sunkenness of the eyes betrayed the fact that he had slept very little in the past forty-eight hours. He was still wearing his overalls, now soiled and stained with oil: their being open at the neck gave him an unexpectedly boyish appearance. He was brought in by two constables. Parsons, the shorthand constable, had already taken his place.
‘Sit down, Huysmann,’ said the super, not unkindly, indicating a chair placed in front of his desk. Peter sat down with some awkwardness, placing his hands on his knees. He shot defensive glances at Hansom and Gently, who flanked the super right and left. His mouth was set in a drooped, quivering line.
The super cleared his throat. ‘First of all, I am charging you, Peter Huysmann, with being in unlawful possession of property, namely a bank-note, removed from a safe, the property of your father, the late Nicholas Huysmann.’
Peter stared at him in momentary surprise, but probably supposing this to be some sort of prelude to a graver charge, said nothing. The super continued: ‘Do you wish to say anything in answer to this charge? You are not obliged to say anything, but whatever you say will be taken down in writing and may be used in evidence.’
‘Though not necessarily against you,’ added Gently, in the pause that followed.
Peter looked from one to the other of them, still not quite able to follow the turn things were taking.
‘Do you wish to say anything?’ repeated the super.
Peter licked his lips. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I – I’d like to tell you everything – all I can tell you.’
His voice was slightly harsh, but contained almost no accent. ‘You’d like to make a statement?’ asked the super.
‘Yes, I’ll make a statement. But I didn’t take the bank-note – it was given to me.’
‘You plead not guilty to the charge?’
‘My father gave it to me just before I left.’
The super picked up a pencil and began doodling on a pad in front of him. ‘Before you make your statement I would like to caution you once more. You are quite within your rights to say nothing and we have no power to demand that you shall. You do so at your own risk. I’m not saying this to stop you making a statement, but simply to warn you that you needn’t if you feel it may incriminate you in a possibly graver charge. I can’t put it plainer than that. It’s up to you.’
Peter said: ‘Thank you … but I want to tell you everything that happened.’
He licked his lips again and looked across at the constable with the notebook. Gently wondered: did they tell his wife or did she see it first in the lunch-time papers?
‘You’ve found out how I left home,’ said Peter, ‘you know that my father and I weren’t on good terms. It was my marriage he couldn’t forgive – I was to have married the daughter of a merchant in Rotterdam, somebody rich. They’d worked it all out when I was in the cradle. When I married Cathy I just about ceased to be a son of his.
‘It was pretty hard for me, never having had to get my living before. I knew how to drive a truck, so I got a job with a small transport firm at King’s Lynn, and that went on for about three months. But the driver I was with got mixed up in a robbery – I lost my job and nearly went to prison as an accessory. After that I got in with the fair people and learned to do an act. It didn’t pay very well, so I persuaded Clark – he’s my boss – to let me practise the Wall, and I got so good at it that he took me on as his number one rider.’
Hansom said: ‘What was the act you learned that didn’t pay very well?’
Peter hesitated. ‘It was just one of the little side-show acts.’
‘Anything like knife-throwing?’
‘It was … knife-throwing.’
‘Ah,’ said Hansom, ‘little details like that help to fill in the picture, you know. Don’t leave them out.’
Peter flushed, his lip quivering. He went on, a little sullenly: ‘I’d written to my father once or twice since I went away, but he never answered. My only contact was with Gretchen, whom I saw sometimes when I was in Norchester with the fair. And I used to write to her, addressing the letters to the maid Susan. Then two weeks ago, when the fair was at Lincoln, Clark offered me a partnership in the Wall if I could find up five hundred pounds. It was a very liberal offer … the Wall would clear a hundred pounds in a good week. I told him I would see my father when we got to Norchester.’
The super said: ‘What made you think your father would let you have the money?’
Peter shrugged. ‘I don’t know. We were just coming to Norchester again, so I thought I would give it a try. Five hundred pounds was not much to my father … I thought he would lend it to me. First I sent a note to my sister, arranging to see her as soon as we got into town. She wasn’t very hopeful. My father was still talking of changing his will and he had been in an irritable mood of late – perhaps because he knew I was coming to town.’
Gently said: ‘Could there have been any other reason why he was irritable?’
‘There was business, of course …’
‘Do you know of any particular business reason which might have caused it?’
‘He used to imagine there was a leakage somewhere. But that had been going on for years … I think it was a delusion. My father was a very suspicious man.’
‘Did he suspect anyone in particular?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Do you know how the wages he paid compared with those paid by the trade in general?’
‘I couldn’t say exactly, but he was not the sort of man to pay more than the minimum rate.’
‘Would he have paid more than that, say, to his manager?’
‘No, he couldn’t have done: I can remember Mr Leaming complaining that he was getting only two-thirds of what some managers were paid.’
‘You are positive of that?’
‘Quite positive.’
‘Did it never seem strange to you that Mr Leaming should not transfer to a firm where he would be better paid?’
‘He had a reason for that. Before he came to us he was with a firm ca
lled Scotchers’ which went bankrupt. There was no blame attached to Mr Leaming, but he found it difficult to get a position afterwards … he was the first manager to last with us for more than twelve months.’
Gently nodded his mandarin nod to signify that he had done. Peter licked his lips again and continued.
‘After I’d spoken with Gretchen I thought I’d try to raise the money somewhere else. There was a firm called Trustus advertising in the local paper, so I went to them and told them the position. At first I thought I was going to get it. When they understood that I was the son of Nicholas Huysmann they were very favourable. But once they realized that I was on my own and without a fixed address it was different … even though I brought the last balance sheet to show them. I went to another firm after that, Goldstein in Sheep Lane, but it was the same there. So I decided to go through with my original plan.
‘My father was usually busy in the yard on Saturday mornings, so I waited till the afternoon, which he was in the habit of spending in the study going over his books and the like. Clark scrubbed one of the performances at the Wall so that I could have an hour off. I didn’t tell Cathy where I was going because I knew she would be upset … it would be time enough to tell her if I got the money. I left the fairground at about quarter past three.’
‘What makes you sure of the time?’ interrupted the super.
‘There was a performance at three – they last about ten minutes. By the time I’d got out of my overalls and straightened up it would be about quarter past. I went straight down Queen Street and knocked on my father’s door.’
Gently said: ‘Did you notice if there were any vehicles parked in the vicinity?’
‘I can’t remember any. There was still quite a bit of traffic going down to the football match.’
‘Did you see anybody you recognized, or any vehicles you recognized?’
‘I wasn’t thinking much about other people … Susan answered the door, and I told her why I had come. I also asked her where Gretchen was. She told me that my father was in the study and that Gretchen was upstairs in her room. I went along to the study, knocked and entered.
‘My father was sitting at the table facing the door. He rose as I entered.’
‘What did he say?’ demanded Hansom.
‘He said something like: “You! I was expecting you to turn up one of these fine days!” I replied that I had not come to annoy him but about a business matter.’
‘What did he say to that?’
‘He said that I hadn’t any business to come about and that I could take myself off again. I did my best to smooth him down so that he would listen to me. I admitted that I had been very much in the wrong, and that I did not expect his forgiveness, and let him give me a thorough dressing-down without saying a word. After he had cooled off a little bit I mentioned that I was in the way of setting up in business on my own.’
‘How did he take that?’
‘He took it a good deal better than I expected. I went into details about the partnership, showed him the balance sheet and eventually touched on the five hundred pounds. He said, “Yes, I could see that coming,” and got out the safe key. I could hardly believe in my good luck. He went over and opened the safe and took out a packet of five-pound notes. Then he came back and put them on the table between us. “There,” he said, “there’s five hundred pounds, my little man. Let us say that is what you were worth to me two years ago. But you’ve depreciated,” he said, “you’ve gone down in the market, my son. Today, you are worth only one per cent of your value two years ago. You have taken money, ha, ha! You have run away, ha, ha! And … you have married!” Upon which he stripped off the top note and thrust it into my hand. “That is your value to me, my son,” he said, “you have it now, and that is all you will ever have.”
‘For a moment I just stared at him, unable to credit it. The next, all my self-control had gone. Everything that had been stored up for two years came out in a rush … everything. I told him just what I thought of him. I couldn’t help it. I have a very bad temper … we both had …’
‘Can you remember anything of what you said?’ asked Gently.
‘I said that he was unnatural – that he had sold his soul – that he had no more human feelings left: and I called him names … hypocrite … miser … satyr …’
‘Did you refer to the bank-note?’
‘Yes. I told him there’d be a time when that note came back to roost … with interest.’
‘What did you mean by that?’
‘I’m not quite sure. I had some idea of returning it in such a way that he would regret it … I don’t know how.’
The super said: ‘Think carefully, now. Was there any violence on either side during this quarrel?’
‘No, none.’
‘Was any offered?’
‘No … my father raised his hand once, but that was all.’
‘Very well. Go on with your statement.’
‘In the end I flung out of the side door and left him to it. The last thing he said was that if I ever showed my face there again he’d have me put in charge.’
‘Why did you leave by the side door?’ asked Hansom.
‘It happened to be open, and I wanted to get out quickly. I went back to the fairground in a flaming temper. I told Cathy what had happened, which upset her, I’m afraid: it wasn’t fair, but I had to let off steam somehow. Anyway, I cooled down a bit and had a cup of tea, and then went over to the Wall for my next ride.’
‘What time was that?’ Gently enquired.
‘It was timed for four-thirty.’
‘Where did you put on your overalls – at the Wall?’
‘No … I put on this spare pair. I had them at the caravan. I tore the seam of the other pair when I took them off.’
‘Did you see anybody you knew as you crossed the fairground?’
‘I shouldn’t have noticed them if I did. I saw Clark, who told me not to take it to heart too much – he said he’d got a pal in London who might put up the money for me. And then I got on with my rides. I rode at four-thirty, five, five-thirty and six. After the show at five I went back to the caravan and had something to eat … also, I tried to cheer Cathy up. By the six ride I’d pretty well got over it. And then I went out and bought a paper …
‘I saw it directly because I looked at the stop-press for the football results. It struck me absolutely numb, like a blow on the head … it almost seemed that I must have done it myself. I felt as though I were … doomed.’
‘Did it not occur to you that the best thing to do would be to come straight to the police?’ asked the super sternly.
‘But what would they think? What could they think? Everything was so much against me that I could hardly believe myself … The quarrel, that must have been heard by everyone in the house – perhaps other people; my relations with my father – my need of money – his intention of changing his will – it was all well known. And then, for it to have happened directly after the quarrel … it seemed that I was caught up in some terrible mechanism. There was only one thing left to do, and I did it.
‘That evening I hid amongst some derelict buildings near Burgh Street. As soon as it was dark I made my way out of town towards Starmouth. I didn’t know quite what I should do, but I felt I should be safer out in the country. I spent the night in a cart-shed somewhere and tried to think things over and make a plan. There was just a chance that the police would find the murderer quite quickly, that I might not have been suspected at all. In that case I intended to give myself up. But if they did not, then it was as good as committing suicide and I resolved that somehow I must get out of the country. At first I thought I would go on to Starmouth, but it was a long way. Then I thought of the timber-boats that came up to Norchester. Some of them were Dutch, and as you know, I am Dutch by extraction and speak the language perfectly. If I could get on one of those to Holland I should be safe, and later on I could get a message back to Cathy and have her brought over to me.
The super slashed parallel lines across a pattern he was building up on his pad. ‘You realize, of course, the immediate construction we were obliged to place on your actions?’ he asked.
Peter’s hand opened appealingly. ‘I know … I know … but what else could I have done? It was not my life that was wanted … yet who would believe that?’
‘We were bound to catch you in the long run. It would have been best to come to us straight away.’
‘I don’t know … one must try to save one’s life.’
Hansom said: ‘Was it true that Hoochzjy didn’t know you were on the vessel?’
‘I could not risk letting him know, not until we were clear of England. I know him well and I don’t think he would have given me up; but I was not going to risk it.’
Gently said: ‘I’d like to go back a little bit. You said just now that “the quarrel must have been heard by everyone in the house”. Whom did you have in mind?’
‘There was Susan and my sister … perhaps others.’
‘Did you see your sister?’
‘No, but Susan told me that she was there.’
‘Who were the others?’
‘Other servants, perhaps …’
‘Did you see anyone else at all besides Susan and your father?’
‘No.’
‘Or hear anything, or see any signs of anyone else?’
‘Not … really.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I can’t tell you anything definite, but while I was talking to Susan in the hall I had the impression that there was somebody upstairs on the landing.’