by Alan Hunter
‘Don’t look at me,’ Gently said. ‘I don’t have any answer. You can’t hang it, you can’t flog it, and you can’t lock it up.’
‘You just live with it,’ Setters said. ‘It goes on, and you live with it. You can’t preach it away neither. We don’t know a damn thing.’
‘Perhaps we’re misusing it,’ Gently suggested. ‘Perhaps there’s a channel for it somewhere. It’s a bit of nature we’ve inherited and don’t understand.’
‘I don’t understand it,’ Setters said. ‘I thought I did up till now. But I get pretty close to Bixley. I could bust out too.’ He stuck his hands in his pockets.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s shut the door.’
* * *
MOTORCYCLIST DIES ESCAPING
SUSPECTED OF LISTER MURDER
TIE-UP WITH BIG DOPE SEIZURES
After an exciting chase after an exciting chase after an exciting chase after an exciting chase after an exciting chase
* * *
So this big-shot screw came down from the Smoke, started making with the action like he could figure the whole deal. There were some sticks going about, he latched hard on them, man. Threw a curve they were the reason for Johnny Lister taking off. First he hung up Sid Bixley, wild keen he was on Sid. But like Sid was too good for him, he knew the jazz to hand screws. Then this crazy big-shot goes for Dicky, wild, way-out Dicky Deeming, the mostest guy who ever cooled it on a ton plus action. Man, did Dicky give them a ride. Like they’ll never forget about Dicky. One of the jees makes with a ballad about Wild Dicky Deeming.
Came the day when this big-shot reckons he’ll hang Dicky up. Gets him a car with a cool wheel-man and a couple more screws for ballast. Dicky’s right there in the eatery when they decide on the hang-up, but like they never get a finger on him, he walks clear past a pair of them. So they make with the car, man, they cool it big after Dicky. They chase him out to Shuck’s Graves, way over on the heath. And Dicky’s sat there waiting for them. He laughs his lid off at these screws. He rides around playing tag with them, sits ribbing them when they’re puffed.
Then away rides Dicky with the screws chasing after him. He’s too crazy, they can’t fetch him, they buzz a lot more screws. So there’s like six or seven of these cars piling up to stop Dicky, and all the screws stood around, they’re going to hang him up for sure. And up Dicky rides, don’t turn a hair at these screws. Like they tumble over their feet to put a grab on Dicky. So Dicky laughs crazy wild, goes dodging around in the trees, and the next thing the screws know he’s way up on the other side of them.
Then the screws are real mad, they’ll do next to anything to hang up Dicky. They buzz the other screws for miles, it’s stiff with screws charging about. And Dicky, he’s leading a whole bunch of them, keeps playing it down to hold them together. He’s getting the wildest kicks, is Dicky. He’s picking up screws all along. So then he has them out on the road, half the screws in the country. Tells them he’s going for the touch, like they can tag along if they want to. And then he twists it man, he goes man, he leaves the screws dragging backwards. He comes to the tree, he keeps going. He touches the real all the way.
You want to know about the curves the screws threw when Dicky touched? Man, they’ve got a curve for everything, like they daren’t not have. They hung up a jee called Elton, pitched him around something rotten, got him sounding off some jazz about Dicky busting into Lister. Yuh, that’s the curve they threw, like somebody ought to believe them. And the army squares cut the tree down. Let on it was dangerous, or some jazz.
But I’ll tell you something, man, and the squares know about it too. There’s a guy called Salmon used to live here and he was riding that road one night. Come back late from a dance, he was, and cooling it wild down the road. And like there was somebody riding beside him. Somebody who didn’t make a sound. And he was grinning at him, waving him on. And Salmon could see the tree right plain. And he got a smell in his nose like burning mutton and he threw up twice before he could stop.
Yuh, it’s spooky round this scene, I like it daylight when I’m riding. There’s Johnny and Dicky died on the road, and the road gets quiet. I like it daylight.
Brundall, 1960
About the Author
Alan Hunter was born in Hoveton, Norfolk, in 1922. He left school at the age of fourteen to work on his father’s farm, spending his spare time sailing on the Norfolk Broads and writing nature notes for the Eastern Evening News. He also wrote poetry, some of which was published while he was in the RAF during the Second World War. By 1950, he was running his own book shop in Norwich and in 1955, the first of what would become a series of forty-six George Gently novels was published. He died in 2005, aged eighty-two.
The Inspector George Gently series
Gently Does It
Gently by the Shore
Gently Down the Stream
Landed Gently
Gently Through the Mill
Gently in the Sun
Gently with the Painters
Gently to the Summit
Gently Go Man
Copyright
Constable & Robinson Ltd
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This paperback edition published by Robinson, an imprint of Constable & Robinson Ltd, 2011
Copyright © Alan Hunter, 1961
The right of Alan Hunter to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A copy of the British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978–1–78033–149–2