Error of Judgment

by Roy Lewis

  ‘I’ve told you I can’t remember.’

  ‘Was it the same man on both occasions?’ A door slammed downstairs and Wilson stirred at the door. Crow thrust the newspaper cutting in front of the girl.

  ‘That’s you in the photograph, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, of course!’

  ‘And that man standing there, you recognize him?’

  ‘Of course I damned well recognize him! What on earth—’

  ‘Is that the man you were with when you wore that coat? And were you with him the night Rosemary died?’

  ‘Sir—’

  Wilson was moving warningly from the doorway but he didn’t finish the sentence because the door suddenly opened behind him and someone pushed his way in, backwards. Crow straightened and glared as the man turned; a broad face, reddish, curling hair, blue eyes widened in surprise.

  ‘What the hell’s going on here?’

  He was carrying a bag of groceries in his leather-jacketed arms. As he stood there gaping a tin of tomatoes lost its precarious balance at the top of the bag and fell to the thin carpet, rolling towards Crow’s feet. No one spoke. Peter Rhodes dumped the bag on the floor at his feet and stuck his hands on his hips. He stared at Sally Woods.

  ‘What the hell are the fuzz doing here?’ he demanded.

  ‘They’ve been asking me questions.’

  ‘Rhodes—’

  ‘What questions?’

  ‘Stupid questions. They want . . . they want to know where I was the night Rosemary was murdered.’

  There wasn’t a damned thing Crow could do about it. He’d been taken by surprise at Rhodes’s entrance; he’d not expected to see him here and the surprise had momentarily robbed him of his drive, lost him the advantage. It gave Rhodes time to sum up the situation; it gave the girl time to tell Rhodes what it was all about. As the two young people stared at each other, and Crow saw the understanding pass between them, he knew he’d lost this one, at least.

  The rest was anticlimax, and perhaps only to be expected. Peter Rhodes turned, glared belligerently at the two police officers and said:

  ‘Well, you can forget all that crap. I can tell you where she was.’

  His lip curled contemptuously.

  ‘She was with me!’

  * * *

  The afternoon sun strode through the narrow window and leapt across the plastic-tiled flooring in a broad swathe, glinting on the metal bottle caps and sending brown sparkles dancing in the Coke bottles placed on the floor at the feet of the five men and one woman in the room. They sat in a ragged circle, indolently; their dress varied from the curious to the outrageous to the simply casual, but none was affected by the drowsiness that could have been brought about by the stuffy warm atmosphere in the room, for they were listening to Sadruddin. The windows were closed; they were too high to be reached without a window pole and the old schoolroom used by the Action Committee had long since lost such refinements — it was used by the Administration Department for management games during the early part of the term. The wind had risen outside rather than dropped, and it had lost its coolness as the sun broke through; now it was a warm, dry summer wind that stung the cheeks with dust and grit.

  ‘ . . . for us all to remember that after today we’ll need to broaden the issues. We’ll have to attack the links the Polytechnic has made with industry; we must show that we feel the big business structure intolerable, we must attack the concentration of industry, its lack of responsibility, its mendacious advertising, and its total wrecking of the academic environment.’

  The room fell silent and Sadruddin’s words seemed to hang there, enclosed by the whistle of the wind, contained by its gusts to this room alone. He lowered his dark eyes and glanced around at his companions on the committee.

  ‘And that will be today and tomorrow and next month and next year. But there are some basic things to worry about. Now, are we all aware of the arrangements?’

  The bespectacled youth on Sadruddin’s left crossed one cord shoe over another.

  ‘I think we all know how things go. We’ve each got our action groups assigned; we know how to swing it.’

  ‘The essential thing is to ensure that you move in each instance from the rear. If there is a sufficient body of students in front of you we’ll provide the impetus at the various flash points, so as to bring about the maximum effort. We should be able to take the Administration building within fifteen minutes, the business block within another five. The files will be housed somewhere in there — and we’ll find them. And when we have them we can blow the whole rotten system apart. Storey, is the coverage all tied up?’

  The bearded man addressed by Sadruddin smiled.

  ‘The message is in, man, and the prophets of the masses are waiting. There’ll be two television teams out. They were a bit chary after the last fiasco, but they bit, man, they bit!’

  ‘So we’re all set.’ Sadruddin smiled. It was an easy, confident smile, directed first to the nubile girl on his right, not because he was particularly attracted to her, but because Sadruddin always paid women the compliment of noticing them, wherever they were. She was suitably affected, looking at him with adoring eyes. A chair scraped as one of the group bent forward to pick up a Coke bottle. The door opened behind them and their heads swung around, to stare at the freckled-faced man standing there in the doorway.

  ‘Peter!’ Sadruddin called out to him and raised his hand. ‘You’re late.’

  ‘You might say I was delayed.’ His tone was grim as he advanced into the room.

  ‘Trouble?’

  ‘Nothing I couldn’t take care of.’ He marched across and took a chair. ‘Everything finished?’

  Sadruddin glanced around, his teeth flashing whitely as he grinned.

  ‘All tied up. The sit-in, at four-thirty, and then the frontal attack upon the portals of the Establishment. We’ll have the Administration block and access to the files by five-fifteen.’

  ‘Meeting’s all but over then?’

  ‘As you say. I’m sorry you missed it, but you know the score anyway. I—’

  ‘I want a word with you. Privately.’

  Sadruddin frowned. ‘About the action?’ He glanced around at the other committee members. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Not about the action. I just want a private word with you. It’s a personal thing. Me and you.’

  Sadruddin was smiling but his dark eyes were watchful. He waved an arm to the others. ‘Well, we’d finished anyway, and we’ve twenty minutes to the opening so why don’t we walk through to the cloakroom and have our . . . er . . . little chat there. Okay, comrades? We’ll see you shortly. Time to get things started anyway.’

  Rhodes shoved his chair back with his foot as he rose and it fell with an angry clatter. He marched out of the room ahead of Sadruddin, who glanced around the committee with a raised eyebrow before following at a more leisurely pace.

  Rhodes crossed the passageway and entered the narrow room where the pegs used for coat-racks still hung. Sadruddin sauntered along behind him. Rhodes closed the door after Sadruddin entered and leaned back against it, his hands behind him. He watched as Sadruddin gripped two of the pegs and swung on them, sliding his legs under the racks, grinning back over his shoulder. One of the pegs was loose and came away suddenly depositing Sadruddin on the floor. He laughed, an amused pleasant gurgling sound and scrambled up clutching the broken metal peg in his fist. The laughter died and he stood there staring at the peg, smiling slightly.

  ‘Well, Peter?’

  ‘I’ve just been talking to Sally.’

  ‘Sally . . . ? Ah yes . . . Sally.’

  Sadruddin twisted his lips in an apologetic way as he spoke and inclined his head to one side, looking at Rhodes with foxy eyes.

  ‘She had a visit from the fuzz.’

  ‘Did she indeed! That would not have been nice for her.’

  ‘She told them nothing.’

  ‘What was there for her to tell?’

  ‘I don�
��t know. I was hoping you’d be able to fill me in on the details.’

  Sadruddin turned away and strolled to the wall, to lean casually against it. He toyed with the metal peg and smiled again at Rhodes.

  ‘This all sounds very mysterious. I’m afraid I’m somewhat at sea as to what you’re going on about.’

  ‘Then perhaps I’d better fill in some background for you, first, before you tell me what it’s all about! Sally left home two days ago and moved in at the Hill with me. Now you know damned well how it’s been with me and Sally, you know damned well that we’ve been steady—’

  ‘And-?’

  Rhodes hesitated, and a slow stain spread over his freckled face. He swallowed hard, glaring at Sadruddin’s sneering mouth.

  ‘When I left to get some groceries this morning she was alone. She told me the fuzz had checked on her last night but I thought that was just her old man pushin’ things. But when I got back this morning there were two coppers there — that bloody Inspector Crow and a sergeant, and they were questioning Sally.’

  ‘What did they want to know?’

  ‘She didn’t really get the drift straight away. Crow was on about some coat of Rosemary Harland’s and trying to find out whether Sally’d ever borrowed it from her. Sally was fool enough to say she had, but she wouldn’t tell them when it was. Then they asked her where she’d been the night that Rosemary died.’

  He paused, and Sadruddin’s eyes flickered up to him. His voice was soft.

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She said nothing, at first. It was at that point that I burst in. She told me what they wanted. And I told them that she’d been with me that night!’

  Sadruddin laughed, but it was an unpleasant sound, a contemptuous sound.

  ‘The good old English chivalry! It will out in the most surprising places! Peter Rhodes, pricking forth to save the fair maid beleaguered by the giant terrible! All right, so you snatched her from the jaws of the inquisitors, so what? What’s it got to do with me? You want applause?’

  ‘You bastard!’

  Sadruddin stiffened involuntarily, then relaxed again, but in his casual stance there was still an element of easy strength, a coiled spring.

  ‘English is an inexact, imprecise language,’ he said and his voice was edged with menace. ‘There are occasions, nevertheless, when it can express meaning in definite terms. Be careful, Peter, for I’m no Englishman in my reactions!’

  ‘You know damned well that Sally wasn’t with me the night Rosemary died.’

  ‘Do I?’

  Rhodes stood up and away from the door, taking a step forward, crouching slightly. His eyes were hot and angry.

  ‘Those bloody policemen kept at us for twenty minutes. After they’d gone Sally was in tears, and she was scared. I want to know why, Sadruddin.’

  ‘How should I know?’

  ‘Don’t play the fool with me! I talked with her, wormed some of it out of her. That coat of Rosemary’s—’

  ‘Coat, coat, who cares about an old coat!’

  ‘She knows well enough when it was she wore it. It was when she went to Boldini’s.’

  Sadruddin’s eyebrows lifted and his eyes hardened. He smiled faintly, and let his breath out in a slow sigh.

  ‘Ahh. I begin to understand . . .’

  ‘You knew how it was with me and Sally,’ Rhodes said angrily. ‘What the hell do you think you were playing at? I was your friend—’

  ‘Friend?’ Sadruddin sneered again and tossed the peg lightly from one hand to another. ‘What do you mean, friend? You were my shadow, Rhodes, you followed in my wake, you padded at my heels because you saw what I could do. You trailed along, hoping for the crumbs that dropped from my table but don’t talk to me of friendship! I know damned well that if you had the slightest chance you’d have leapt up to take over from me. You see yourself as a leader not a follower, a Hitler not a Mussolini, and now you try to say you’re my friend! You’d have driven a knife in my back as soon as look as me!’

  ‘That wasn’t the way I saw things. I know now I was wrong. I should have known it sooner; I should have realised it when Sally told me she’d been to Boldini’s — with you! You lecherous bastard—’

  ‘I warned you, Peter!’

  ‘And I’m warning you! She’s my girl, and you knew that; you can do as much damned whoring around as you like as long as you keep away from Sally, you knew that, but not only did you talk her around but she went to Boldini’s with you!’

  ‘Peter,’ Sadruddin said in a cynically soothing tone. ‘You must realise, women are all the same, they are all whores at heart!’

  ‘You—’

  ‘Careful!’

  Rhodes had been poised to spring, his freckled face suffused with anger, his fists clenched, but Sadruddin’s voice and stance checked him. The Arab was crouching away from the wall now with the metal peg held in front of him, gripped tightly, its jagged end projecting towards Rhodes’s face.

  ‘This can do a lot of damage,’ Sadruddin whispered excitedly. ‘Spread those freckles all over your face . . .’

  They stood there, tensely, waiting for the other to move and Sadruddin was smiling his tiger smile, balanced on the balls of his feet, swaying slightly.

  ‘Come on, Sir Galahad!’ he said with quiet menace in his tones and then the smile faded and he straightened. The door handle rattled, the door opened and two men stood in the doorway. ‘Well, well, well,’ Sadruddin sighed. ‘The fuzz!’

  Inspector Crow stood in the doorway, his arms dangling loosely at his sides, his long head thrust forward. Wilson stood just behind him. Sadruddin gave a tight little smile.

  ‘Come in, gentlemen, join the party.’

  Crow glanced towards Rhodes who was backing away from the door.

  ‘I thought if I followed you it would be simpler,’ he said. ‘Instead of chasing all around the college and the town to find Sadruddin, I guessed it’d be easier to let you lead us here. You’ve told him all about it, then.’

  Rhodes opened his mouth but Sadruddin made a short chopping motion with his hand, interrupting him quickly.

  ‘All about what, Inspector? We’ve just been having a discussion about the demonstration we’re having this afternoon.’

  The smile under the black moustache remained constant, as Crow stared at him. Sadruddin strolled across towards Rhodes and flung one arm across his shoulders, gave him a mocking hug. Rhodes stared at him, his eyes wide and uncertain. Crow stepped farther into the cloakroom.

  ‘He’s told you about our visit to the girl.That’s why he came running straight here.’

  ‘There’s been a committee meeting—’

  ‘He wanted to see you . . . just you. After he had it out with his girl.’

  Sadruddin’s arm was still around Rhodes’s shoulders but the smile had hardened into a grimace.

  ‘All right, you seem to know all the answers, why bother to ask any questions? Just tell me what it’s all about.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Crow replied coldly. ‘Not all about it. But I can give you some guesses, most of which I can probably get proof of, once I start sweating it out of you. But it’ll be easier for everyone if you just admit to it.’

  ‘You must be joking!’

  ‘We’ve been standing outside for a little while, listening to the argument. Boldini’s. Is that the place where you got the drugs?’

  Sadruddin’s eyes opened innocently. ‘What drugs?’ he asked, but Crow noted the way Rhodes moved away from the encircling arm, and the convulsive grip Sadruddin employed to retain hold on his companion’s shoulder.

  ‘We found traces of drugs in Rosemary Harland’s raincoat pocket. I thought at first it must have been the Harland girl who had used the drugs but couldn’t find any link. Then a man told me last night that he had some evidence to show me. I found it, after someone had tried to kill him. It was a photograph. It showed four people outside Burton Polytechnic. I recognized two of them: one was a man called Sadruddin, the other was Sally W
oods. Rosemary’s friend. So things began to click into place. Maybe Sally had been running around with Sadruddin. Maybe she’d borrowed Rosemary’s coat. Maybe the occasion when she borrowed it she, or her boyfriend—’ Crow saw the quiver run through Peter Rhodes — ‘had shoved a packet into that pocket. It left traces of the drugs there.’

  ‘All wild surmise, like Cortez and the Pacific, Inspector.’

  ‘Maybe. But if you did take Sally Woods to Boldini’s and if you did sample drugs there and she was wearing that coat, well, other questions need to be asked. Such as where you were the night Rosemary died, and where you were last night. Such as why did you find it necessary to kill Rosemary, and how you learned that Fanshaw had discovered a connection between you, Sally and Rosemary.’

  ‘Fanshaw? Who the hell’s Fanshaw? And you must be crazy, trying to say I killed Rosemary Harland!’

  ‘All right. Clear it up for me. Let’s start with the night she died. Where were you?’

  ‘What the hell! I can’t remember — not just off-hand. And why should I have to?’

  Crow shrugged and eased farther into the room, lurching slightly as Wilson touched his shoulder, following him.

  ‘You have to, because I’m asking. Because a woman died, and a man was almost killed last night. The drugs—’

  ‘You can’t pin that on me! What have I got to do with that coat? You can’t stick that one on me!’

  ‘But I can!’ Rhodes, white-faced, dragged himself violently away from Sadruddin’s arm and backed away towards the wall as the Arab wheeled to face him, angrily. ‘I can fix you, and I’m going to! You’re right, Inspector, in most of what you say — after you left us at Hilltop I dragged it out of Sally. She’s my girl, but she’s been running around with this lecherous swine behind my back!’

  ‘Rhodes!’ Sadruddin’s face was twisted and the coat peg was gripped tightly in his hand. ‘Be careful what you say — these, they’re the fuzz, man!’

  ‘Go to hell! I dragged it out of Sally — she’s been going out with Sadruddin and he’s taken her to Boldini’s a couple of times. It’s a club down at East Street, not licensed, used just by students and weekend junkies, you know, the pill-heads who come in for “blues” and “bombers”. But everybody gets blocked up there on a Saturday night. The second time Sally went there with Sadruddin there was a bit of a scare just before they left — rumours of a raid by the police. It came to nothing, but on the way out he shoved some loose packets into the pocket of her raincoat and sent her out alone. He met her later and took them back from her and that was that. She was wearing Rosemary Harland’s coat. That’s how the traces of drugs got there.’