Gently Go Man

by Alan Hunter

  He got out of his chair, walked up and down.

  ‘You’ve got a rhythm,’ he said. ‘You did a beautiful job on that punk, you squeezed him for just what you wanted. A little more, and we’ve fixed Bixley. I want him topped, not put away.’

  ‘It’s still circumstantial,’ Gently said. ‘And that alibi might beat us. Elton’s the king-pin of the case. Find Elton, and we’re home.’

  Setters stopped, his back to Gently.

  ‘You think we’re going to find him?’ he said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Gently shrugged at nobody. ‘I wouldn’t be Elton,’ he said, ‘at the moment.’

  ‘Bixley can’t get at him,’ Setters said.

  ‘No,’ Gently said. ‘Not Bixley.’

  Setters came round. ‘Dicky?’ he asked.

  Gently nodded his slow nod.

  ‘Yeah,’ Setters said. ‘Dicky. I’m the dumb cluck, aren’t I? I didn’t quite get through to that one, even when you had me put a tail on him. Dicky. Little Dicky Deeming. The lad who likes to play his records. The boy who gave us this jeebie stuff. Deeming. Little Dicky Deeming.’ He paused, sucked some smoke. ‘And you think he’ll lead us to Elton?’ he asked.

  ‘If Elton’s alive,’ Gently said. ‘Which I’m afraid doesn’t follow.’

  ‘But if he is,’ Setters persisted, ‘you reckon Deeming will pay him a visit? Deeming’s in the know about Elton, he knows that Elton’s evidence will fix Bixley. So he pays Elton a visit to try to make sure that he won’t come out till after the trial. You reckon he can put some pressure on Elton – maybe shift him to another place?’

  ‘He can kill him,’ Gently said.

  ‘Kill him?’ Setters stared hard. ‘He can’t be that much in love with Bixley, not to go round killing people.’

  ‘He’s in love with himself,’ Gently said. ‘That’s the way it is with killers. And he’ll kill Elton if he gets to him. Elton’s life isn’t worth a pin.’

  Setters was quiet for a moment. Then he said: ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’

  Gently gave him his nod again. ‘Deeming killed Lister,’ he said.

  Setters was quiet again. He punched the smoke through his nostrils. He came back to his chair, sat down on it, leaned his elbows, stared at nothing.

  ‘It hurts,’ he said at last. ‘I’m trying to go with you, but it hurts. I’ve got no class as a policeman. I just want Bixley topped.’

  ‘You took Deeming’s alibi,’ Gently said.

  ‘Yes,’ Setters said. ‘I can remember. He was up at Tony’s till five to midnight. Tony said so. The others said so.’

  ‘It isn’t a good one,’ Gently said. ‘And nobody asked Tony if a call came for Deeming.’

  ‘But it could have done,’ Setters said. ‘Bixley could have rung Deeming at Tony’s.’

  Gently went on nodding. ‘He’d have rung him,’ he said. ‘Deeming was the brain in the Bixley set-up. Bixley would have rung him when he was in trouble. And he was in trouble last Tuesday night. Lister had found out where Bixley was collecting the reefers, and Lister had sworn to put a stop to it. He was going to blow the whistle on Bixley. Bixley rang Deeming and told him what had happened.’

  ‘And Deeming laid for Lister,’ Setters said.

  ‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘There was no other way. Lister was angry, he couldn’t be talked out of it, he’d have busted the racket wide open. But he was vulnerable, he was on the road, he was where Deeming could deal with him. There could be a crash that would look quite natural, and no awkward questions afterwards. It was Elton who complicated the job. He was tagging along behind Lister and Betty Turner. So he saw what happened, he knew who did it, he was in a spot from the beginning.’

  ‘He was a smoker,’ Setters said. ‘They could put some pressure on him.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘While he was loose. But it worked against them if he was held. It was touch and go for them when you weren’t satisfied and started making a play for Elton. If he’d been kept away from his dope he would probably have cracked and told the truth. So Elton had to disappear, and he went as soon as they could get at him. I like to think he’s still alive, but I can’t think of any reason for it.’

  ‘I ought to have held him,’ Setters said. ‘The murdering slobs. I gave them the chance.’

  Gently shook his head. ‘You did the right thing. You weren’t certain, so you didn’t charge.’

  ‘It’ll be on my conscience,’ Setters said. He crammed his cigarette butt into the tray. ‘If he’s dead,’ he muttered to himself. He took his hands off the desk.

  ‘We’ve got the same theme recurring with Bixley,’ Gently said. ‘He’s a smoker, and we’re holding him, and there’s a danger he might crack. I don’t think he will, but the danger’s there, and Deeming could see that danger. That’s why Bixley found a knife in his hand when the ambush was pulled.’

  ‘It’s coming to me,’ Setters said. ‘That’s what you were driving at just now. Hallman didn’t just happen to have a knife by him which he handed to Bixley.’

  ‘There was no object in it,’ Gently said. ‘Hallman wouldn’t have thought of a knife. You say yourself there’s been no knife trouble in Latchford lately.’

  ‘Deeming wanted Bixley to buy something.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘The lot. Then we wouldn’t pay any attention to what he might tell us about Deeming and Lister. Coming after Bixley had knifed a policeman, it wouldn’t sound very convincing. The more he told it, the more we’d think he did the Lister job himself. And no Elton, no proof. We couldn’t do a thing to Dicky. Hallman’s too much concerned with his hide to admit any knowledge of the knife.’

  ‘And I was falling for that,’ Setters said, pressing his arms against the desk. ‘I was falling right into it. It’d have gone the way you said. All I could see was chummie Bixley with that knife in his hand. I can’t see much more now. It’s one of those things that stick.’

  Gently nodded. ‘Bixley was a tool. It doesn’t excuse him, but he was one. Deeming was throwing him to the wolves, there can be no doubt about that. And we haven’t proved it yet, Deeming’s still riding high. And Bixley can’t prove it for us. He can only tell us where to look for Elton.’

  ‘He’s going to tell us,’ Setters said.

  Gently shrugged. ‘It won’t be easy. Bixley’s tough. He’ll never accept Deeming’s treachery on our say-so.’

  ‘He’ll tell us,’ Setters said.

  ‘Also, he’s implicated,’ Gently said.

  ‘Sooner or later,’ Setters said, ‘he’s going to tell us but everything.’

  The door was tapped, Simpson entered. Setters came up off his chair.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Simpson said. ‘He’s all right. They’ve fixed him up. They had to do an artery job and stitch him, I can’t remember what they called it. But he’s all right, just weak. He had a pint or more from me.’

  Setters slowly sat again. ‘Thanks, Simpson,’ he said. ‘Thanks a lot. You’d better knock off. You can come in in the morning if you feel fit.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Simpson said. ‘A pint of blood doesn’t worry me. And I’ve brought a message from the medics. You can talk to Betty Turner.’

  ‘How’s that?’ Setters said.

  ‘Betty Turner,’ Simpson said. ‘She’s on the mend, she came round last night. You can talk to her if you want to.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE HOSPITAL AT Latchford was the South West Northshire and it stood on a swell of rising ground to the north of the town. It had a Georgian foundation which had been added to at other periods, the last addition being a modern ward block connected to two new theatres. Betty Turner was in the modern block, which was the furthest from the car park. After entering the spacious main hall they had to trek down several corridors. A lift took them to the second floor where they were met by the ward sister. She was a determined, strong-voiced woman who read them a lecture as she led them to the room.

  ‘Five minutes only, and the patient is not to b
e worried. She is still quite weak and I will not allow her to be hectored.’

  ‘Does she know we’re coming?’ Gently asked.

  ‘Of course,’ the ward sister replied. ‘She asked to be permitted to see you. That’s why you are here.’

  She took them into a small room with a large window overlooking the town. By the window stood a white-painted bed in which a girl lay propped up with pillows. She had a snub nose and a rounded chin and her head was capped with a bandage. She looked towards the door eagerly. The ward sister closed the door and stood by it.

  ‘Miss Turner?’ Gently said.

  ‘Yes,’ the girl said. ‘I’m Betty Turner.’

  ‘I’m Superintendent Gently,’ Gently said. ‘I’m glad to hear you’re getting better.’

  ‘Are you a policeman?’ Betty said.

  ‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘They tell me so.’

  ‘I know he’s a policeman,’ Betty said. ‘But I don’t think I’ve seen you before.’

  ‘The super’s from the Yard,’ Setters said. ‘He knows all about the accident, Betty.’

  She blushed underneath her bandage. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know.’

  Gently sat on the chair near the bed, spread himself, put his hat on his knees.

  ‘You wanted to see us, Miss Turner,’ he said. ‘Have you remembered something else about the accident?’

  She nodded, still looking doubtful. ‘Has there been much … much fuss about it?’ she asked.

  ‘A little fuss,’ Gently said. ‘There always fuss in these cases.’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ she repeated. She moved her hand under the quilt. ‘I just wanted to tell you,’ she said suddenly, ‘that it couldn’t have been Laurie who bumped into us.’

  ‘Laurie Elton?’ Gently asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It couldn’t have been Laurie. I knew there was a reason why it couldn’t be, but I haven’t been able to think. He was going too fast, that’s why.’

  ‘Who was going too fast?’ Gently asked.

  ‘The man. The one who bumped into us. He was going a lot faster than we were, and Johnnie was flat out just there.’

  ‘So it couldn’t have been Elton catching you up?’

  ‘No,’ Betty said. ‘It just couldn’t have been. Laurie’s bike is an old Ariel, it couldn’t make the ton anyway. He was behind us all the way … he wasn’t very pleased with me. We could see his lights miles away. The man who bumped us came from nowhere.’

  ‘How do you mean – came from nowhere?’

  ‘Well, we never saw him,’ Betty said. ‘You can see an awful long way there, and there was nobody behind us except Laurie. Then all of a sudden there was this other light catching us up like mad … and then … and then …’ A shiver went through her. ‘I knew,’ she said. ‘I knew he would hit us.’

  The ward sister cleared her throat. Betty laid her head back on the pillows. She had a small, pretty mouth and the mouth was trembling.

  ‘So that’s how I know,’ she said. ‘Poor old Laurie wouldn’t have done it.’

  ‘Mmn,’ Gently said. ‘That takes care of that point, Miss Turner.’

  ‘Poor Laurie,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t very nice to Laurie.’

  ‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘But now I’d like to go back to that jazz session, Miss Turner.’

  Her eyes darted to him, held there. ‘I don’t remember much about it,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t want you to remember much,’ Gently said. ‘Just what happened about the box of chocolates.’

  ‘Oh those.’ She dropped her eyes. ‘It wasn’t anything, really,’ she said. ‘Sid Bixley won a box of chocolates. Johnny took them, for a lark.’

  ‘For a lark?’ Gently said.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He didn’t mean anything, honestly. He just picked them up as we were leaving. I’m sure he meant to give them back.’

  Gently picked up his hat, made a fanning motion with it. He stared out of the window.

  ‘It won’t do,’ he said, ‘Miss Turner. You’ll have to remember a little more.’

  She blushed more deeply. ‘It wasn’t anything to do with me,’ she said.

  ‘I think it was,’ Gently said. ‘But you needn’t tell me about that. Just why Johnny took that box of chocolates, and what he intended doing with them.’

  She moved around under the quilt, took a great interest in the sheet turn-down. The ward sister was rumbling a little, shifted, made a noise with her keys.

  ‘I could add,’ Gently said, ‘that there’ll be no more jazz sessions at the Ten Spot. And that Sidney Bixley is in custody, charged with trading in reefers and other matters.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I see.’ She continued staring at the turn-down. Well,’ she said. ‘You know all about it. There doesn’t seem much for me to tell you.’

  ‘It’s just routine,’ Gently urged. ‘We like to get the details straight.’

  She nodded her bandages. ‘I suppose so,’ she said. ‘In that case I’d better tell you. He – Johnny – didn’t like me doing it … you know. Smoking those things. I was silly. Sid gave me a couple, just to try them, he said. Then I wanted some more, and he sold me some, and after that I kept buying them. And Johnny found out. He thought it was because of them that I … well, cooled off him a bit.’

  ‘Was it because of that?’ Gently asked.

  ‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘it had nothing to do with it. I liked Johnny an awful lot, but he kept wanting us to get married, you know. But he thought it was the reefers, it was no good me saying anything. Then once he caught Sid selling me some. He got ever so angry about Sid.’

  ‘When was that – on Tuesday morning?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You know about it? Johnny took the reefers away from me, lucky I’d got a couple to go on with.’

  ‘In the Kummin Kafe,’ Gently said.

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘You know it all, don’t you? And Johnny talked to me like a Dutch Uncle – he’s an awfully serious boy, Johnny is. How is he getting on, please?’

  A little explosion came from the ward sister.

  ‘He’s comfortable,’ Gently said. ‘You don’t need to worry about Johnny.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ Betty said. ‘They wouldn’t tell me anything about him. And I do like Johnny, even though I wasn’t, you know, in love with him.’

  ‘Go on about Tuesday night,’ Gently said.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Well, Johnny was upset. He didn’t say anything more about the reefers, but he was awfully quiet and sort of offhand. He kept watching Sid and Ann Wicks when we were in the Ten Spot, and when Sid got the chocolates he seemed to get all excited. Then he said we were going to leave early, as soon as they’d played the last number, and as we went out he just picked up the chocolates – Sid had given them to Ann, she’d put them with her bag.’

  ‘Did Bixley see Johnny take them?’

  ‘No – he couldn’t have done, could he? Anyway, he didn’t come after us. I’m sure nobody noticed.’

  ‘Did you meet anyone as you went through the milk bar?’ Gently asked.

  She shook her head. ‘They were all down below. There was only that blonde woman who serves there.’

  ‘Did she speak to you?’

  ‘No,’ Betty said. ‘Just stared at us, that’s all.’

  ‘Mmn.’ Gently nodded. ‘So what happened when you got outside?’

  ‘Well,’ Betty said, ‘Johnny opened the chocolates and found the reefers underneath. Laurie came out just then, so Johnny stuck them in his saddlebag. Then he started up and we got away, and Laurie followed behind.’

  ‘Did Johnny say what he was going to do?’

  ‘He said he was going to the police when he got back. I was awfully scared about it all. But he said he wouldn’t mention me.’

  ‘And that’s all … till Five Mile Drove?’

  The bandages nodded. ‘Yes. That’s all.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Turner,’ Gently said. ‘You’ve been very helpful. We appreciate it.’


  He took his hat, rose. She looked up at him shyly.

  ‘I’m glad,’ she said. ‘I told you about it. You’re nice. I’m glad I told you.’

  Then she began to cry.

  ‘Give Johnny my love,’ she said.

  They went down the corridors, out into the thin October sunlight. Gently unlocked the Rover, they got in, he drove out of the park.

  ‘He must have been waiting under the tree,’ he said. ‘I thought at first he was in that lane. But he couldn’t have picked up the speed from there, so he must have been under the tree.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Setters said. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘He went after them without lights,’ Gently said. ‘Then at the last moment he switched them on, so he wouldn’t be blind after he crashed them.’

  Setters nodded at the windscreen. ‘Oh Christ,’ he said. ‘I’m so sick of this.’

  ‘We’ll get back to Bixley,’ Gently said.

  He pressed a little harder on the gas.

  At the desk they had a report for him from Brewer and Shepherd, the tails on Deeming. They’d picked him up in the High Street and followed him back to his rooms. He’d gone in and spent some time there, then he’d come out dressed for riding. He’d fetched his motorcycle from a shed and parked it in the side lane leading to his rooms. Next he’d smiled at and saluted the policemen, and had gone off on foot to Everard’s Restaurant. He was sitting there now eating his lunch. Brewer and Shepherd were also sitting there.

  ‘Where’s Everard’s Restaurant?’ Gently asked.

  ‘Not far from where he lives,’ Setters told him. ‘It’s in the street just round the corner. I eat there myself when I’m in a mood for eating.’

  Gently hesitated. ‘I’d like the patrols alerted,’ he said. ‘Give them Deeming’s description and the description of his bike and tell them to keep watch out for him. If Brewer and Shepherd aren’t right with him he’s to be stopped and held for questioning.’

  ‘Willco,’ Setters said. ‘But it’s a good car and Brewer can drive.’

  ‘So can Deeming,’ Gently said.

  ‘You should know,’ said Setters.

  They had a snack lunch sent into the office, sandwiches, fruit, and coffee. Gently ate his in silence, Setters made only odd remarks. There was something formidable about Gently when he didn’t want to talk. He seemed a long way away, detached, out of reach. He finished his coffee.