Coffin's Dark Number
Page 19
‘Nothing I say to you matters. Nothing I do to you matters. No witnesses.’
‘Well, I don’t want any witnesses, either.’
‘But what I want to say to you, Tony, is that it’s all your fault. You don’t know what it’s like having you around talking. You talk about yourself, Tony. Why didn’t you talk about me a little?’
‘So it’s all just between you and me, is it?’ I said. ‘Just a duel.’
‘When I killed Tom Butt I was really thinking about killing you.’
‘You should have tried for me first,’ I said, ‘instead of taking the easy option. I bet Tom was easier to kill.’ But he didn’t get angry, which I suppose I was hoping for, but just sat there in the way Charley Di Finzio had complained of and let a foul comment drop out as it occurred to him.
‘They beat me, you know,’ he said. ‘Cy beat me when I was quite old. He shouldn’t have done that.’
‘You’ve got even,’ I said.
‘Yes, I’ve done that.’ He contemplated his achievements. Then he said, almost shyly, ‘The reason I put things on your tape was that I wanted you to know. I wanted you to be part of it.’
‘You’re a monster, Dave,’ I said.
‘And you’re so human?’
‘Where’s Kim Simpson?’
‘I sent her home.’
‘I don’t believe that, Dave.’
‘I’m not insatiable.’
‘You shouldn’t have said that, Dave. It’s in very bad taste. Where is she?’
‘She surely isn’t here.’
‘You’ve got a place, Dave, another place; I’m sure of it.’
I thought of the fairground. There were plenty of hiding places among the booths and tents. In particular I remembered one caravan.
I looked at him speculatively. He was still sitting there, big and sprawling. I’ve never been a violent boy but I felt violent then.
‘You touch me and I’ll bash you,’ he said.
‘The caravan at the fairground, is that it, Dave boy?’ I said. Naturally he didn’t answer; I hadn’t expected him to get up and bow and say yes. Tell me, boy. No? You think you’re stronger than me? Well, there’s something you don’t know about me.’ I leaned forward across the desk where he was sitting. He put his arm up to ward me off and I got it in my grip. He tried to get up but I pushed him back, using his own arm as a pressure point. ‘While you were away I took a course in judo. I wasn’t very good, but I learnt one or two tricks.’
He tried to move and I twisted his arm. ‘Caravan, Dave? Tell me. I could break your arm,’ I said softly. I could break my own too; he had muscles like iron, but naturally I didn’t say so.
‘You persuade the kids to go to your hidey-holes, feed ’em up with ice-cream and then kill them. We won’t go into any embroideries. Did they all think you were their big brother?’ I was just going on talking to pass the time; I was hurting him and I fancied to go on hurting him.
His face had gone red and lines had appeared around his mouth and eyes. I suppose this was the face of him the girls saw at the last.
Then with all his strength he pushed against the desk, forcing me backwards. Then he stood up. ‘I’ll say you’re guilty with me till the minute I die,’ he shouted.
I had dropped his arm, but I knew I couldn’t stand still. So, without conscious thought, reverting to a child-like defence, I pushed him hard with both hands in his chest. It was the sort of thing I might have done to him as a lad of twelve.
His foot slipped, he went back, and his head cracked against Mr Di Finzio’s steel filing cabinet. He lay on the floor without moving. A little trickle of blood appeared at one nostril. I thought he looked as dead as anyone could be.
‘What I’ve done for you, Kim Simpson,’ I said aloud.
There she was sitting on the floor of the caravan, licking an ice-cream. She looked at me with great terrified provocative eyes.
‘Get out of here.’ I held open the door. She didn’t move except to give a coquettish little flirt of her eyelashes. ‘Get out of here and home to mother before I belt you,’ I said harshly.
‘No. Why should I?’
‘This is why,’ and I raised my hand. You knew straight away that violence was the only thing for her. In that I agreed with Dave. ‘You don’t know what’s good for you.’
I pulled her to her feet, she let herself go limp. ‘Stiffen up,’ I said. ‘And move.’
She did move then. What she said as she pushed past me was more terrible to me than anything I had heard from Dave. From now on I believe in the absolute corruptibility of the human mind.
‘You fool,’ she said. ‘I could have made him pay.’
I watched her running home. I didn’t see much of a future for her.
I was trembling as I walked home.
I came back here and I am talking on to my tape. I have telephoned the police to tell them what I did and now I’m sitting waiting. I hope they’ll believe me.
From where I sit by the window I can see the one called Dove getting out of the car. John Coffin is behind him. I saw Dove hesitate for a moment at the kid next door who is still yelling for his rubber duck, and then come on.
I thought that if I came through this whole (even if I had killed Dave) and had a life again then I’d marry Judith. Anyway, someone has to look after that white car of hers.
Dove rang the door bell.
As I rose to answer it, my eyes fell on the sky, which was darkening into night. I saw a bright light blink there. It moved, then blinked again. Perhaps old John Plowman was up there sending me a signal. Maybe a space ship had stopped by and picked him up, and maybe one day he would be back. Who could tell?
The light winked once more. It didn’t look like a star. I’ll think about it later. Perhaps I don’t have to worry too much about my problems here on this earth. Perhaps there is another solution.
If you enjoyed Coffin’s Dark Number, check out these other great Gwendoline Butler titles.
Buy the ebook here
Buy the ebook here
Buy the ebook here
Buy the ebook here
Buy the ebook here
About the Author
Gwendoline Butler, who died in 2013, was a Londoner, born in a part of South London for which she still had a tremendous affection, and where Coffin on the Water is set. She was educated at one of the Haberdasher’s Schools and then read History at Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford. After a short period doing research and teaching, she married Dr Lionel Butler. They had one daughter, Lucille.
It was while her husband was Professor of Mediaeval History in the University of St Andrews that Gwendoline first began writing crime fiction. In her lifetime she wrote seventy-seven novels, thirty-four of which feature Detective John Coffin.
Also by the Author
John Coffin novels
Receipt for Murder
Dead in a Row
The Dull Dead
The Murdering Kind
The Interloper
Death Lives Next Door
A Coffin for Baby
Make Me a Murderer
Coffin in Oxford
Coffin Waiting
Coffin in Malta
A Nameless Coffin
Coffin Following
Coffin's Dark Number
A Coffin from the Past
A Coffin for Pandora
A Coffin for the Canary
Coffin On the Water
Coffin in Fashion
Coffin Underground
Coffin in the Black Museum
Coffin and the Paper Man
Coffin on Murder Street
Cracking Open a Coffin
A Coffin For Charley
The Coffin Tree
A Dark Coffin
A Double Coffin
Coffin's Game
A Grave Coffin
Coffin's Ghost
A Cold Coffin
A Coffin for Christmas
Coffin Knows the Answer
Majo
r Mearns and Sergeant Denny novels
The King Cried Murder
Dread Murder
Standalone novels:
Sarsen Place
Olivia
The Vesey Inheritance
Meadowsweet
The Red Staircase
Albion Walk
Copyright
HarperCollinsPublishers
77–85 Fulham Palace Road,
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published by Geoffrey Bles Ltd 1969
Copyright © Gwendoline Butler 1969
Gwendoline Butler asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.
Source ISBN: 9780006176312
Ebook Edition © June 2014 ISBN: 9780007544653
Version: 2014–05–07
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East – 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
London, W6 8JB, UK
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
10 East 53rd Street
New York, NY 10022
http://www.harpercollins.com