by Alan Hunter
Gently parked, got out, tugged a wrought-iron bell-pull. Westminster chimes sounded within. Shuffling steps approached the door, the door opened, revealed a raddled-faced woman.
‘Yays?’ she said.
‘Chief Superintendent Gently. I want to speak to Mrs Grey.’
‘You ain’t off a paper?’
‘I’m a policeman.’
‘Ow,’ the woman said. ‘Well, I’ll see.’
She shut the door again. A minute passed. The door was reopened.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘You’re to come in and wait. Mrs Grey ain’t finished dressing.’
He followed her through a polished-floored hall into a large, overheated lounge. She stared at him severely for a few moments, then shuffled out, leaving the door ajar. Gently shrugged to himself, moved about the room. It was furnished with a suite in imitation black leather. On one wall a break-front bar stood open revealing bottles and glasses against a mirror panel. There were no books. A large TV was flanked by a radiogram in an ebony case. A long, low coffee-table supported big, crystal ashtrays, had glossy magazines in the tidy beneath. On the walls hung coloured prints of vintage cars. The stagnant air smelled of whisky, tobacco-smoke.
Crisp steps crossed the hall and a woman stood in the doorway. She was a slight-figured blonde in a tailored dress of oatmeal tweed. She was aged thirty-five to forty, wore her hair in a tight turban, had delicate, miniature features and sharp, gold-hazel eyes.
‘Are you the policeman?’ she asked coldly.
Gently repeated his name to her.
‘Oh, I see,’ she said. ‘The top brass. I suppose you know they were here all yesterday evening.’
‘This has to do with another matter,’ Gently said. ‘Just routine inquiries, Mrs Grey.’
‘Another matter.’ She made a mouth. ‘There are really no depths to Freddy, are there?’
She closed the door, went across to the bar, began confecting herself a drink. Lean shoulders showed through the close-cut back of the oatmeal dress. She wore small cairngorm eardrops in pierced ears and wedge-toed camelskin shoes. Her voice was accentless and clear. She had an elusive, heather-like perfume.
‘I hope this won’t take long,’ she said. ‘I’m going down town shopping. Drink?’
‘No, thank you,’ Gently said. ‘I’d like to smoke if I may.’
‘Help yourself.’ She waved to a cigarette-box.
‘I smoke a pipe.’
‘That’s okay. Freddy likes a stronger smoke – oh, I shouldn’t tell you that, should I?’
Gently glanced at the cigarette-box, lofted a shoulder.
‘Do you want to visit your husband, Mrs Grey?’ he asked.
‘Should I?’
She carried her drink to the long settee and sat, tucking in her legs. Gently sat in the chair nearest.
‘It’s entirely up to you,’ he said.
‘I mean, would it help him?’ she asked, sipping. ‘If it would help, I owe him that much.’
‘Otherwise, you don’t want to see him?’
‘Heavens no. Let him stew.’
‘You are not on good terms with him?’
‘Not, as you say. I’m scarcely on any terms at all.’
She looked angrily across at a photograph of Grey which stood propped on a corner-bracket.
‘This being about the last straw,’ she said. ‘Him getting picked up by the police. I’ve been insulted every way by that man. I’ve nearly walked out a dozen times. I don’t care, you can know it. Freddy and I are strictly kaput.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Gently said.
‘No need to be sorry,’ said Mrs Grey. ‘We’ve been kaput for a long time now. There’s nothing novel about the sensation.’
‘Yet you’re still friends with him,’ Gently said.
‘Friends.’ She laughed. ‘He still foots the bill.’
‘You go about with him.’
‘You wouldn’t notice it.’
‘This week, for example.’
Mrs Grey was silent. She shifted her legs, sipped the drink.
‘This isn’t that immigration business,’ she said. ‘You want to know where Freddy was on Tuesday – Tuesday evening. Am I right?’
‘A routine inquiry,’ Gently shrugged.
‘Oh, very routine,’ Mrs Grey said. ‘That’s why a big noise from the Yard comes to see me. You don’t have enough to do up there.’ She finished the drink. She shivered. ‘I know what happened to Tommy,’ she said. ‘I saw that paragraph in the Evening News, heard them talking about it last night.’
‘Heard who talking about it?’
‘The police.’
‘How did your husband take the news?’
‘He’d seen it earlier. He showed me the paper. He wasn’t crying, I can tell you that.’
‘Did he talk to you about it?’
‘Oh yes. He said the illegals had done for Tommy. That was because of the Naxos Island and Tommy knowing it wasn’t safe.’
‘Your husband knew they’d done it?’
Mrs Grey hesitated. ‘No, he didn’t say he knew it. But the way he spoke he was quite certain. Maybe he did know. He sees plenty of them.’
‘Did he see them yesterday?’
She shook her head slowly. ‘He was at the office till early afternoon, then he came home to show me the paper. Wanted to make quite sure I saw it.’
‘Why, Mrs Grey?’
She twirled the glass, made a movement with her thin shoulders.
‘He didn’t do it,’ she said. ‘You know that. He was with me from teatime Tuesday, right through. That’s his alibi, isn’t it? And it’s true. Quite true. He had tickets for the Aldwych, he’d rung me about it, and he’d booked a table at the Waldorf for supper afterwards.’
‘And you carried out that programme?’
‘Yes, all of it.’
‘Did you enjoy the play at the Aldwych?’
‘Not much,’ she said. ‘It was called The Criminals. Maybe it would make a night out for you.’
‘Did your husband like it?’
‘Stop foxing,’ she said. ‘We really did go there, see the play. Freddy wasn’t out of my sight for a moment. He even took me to the bar with him.’
‘Doesn’t he usually?’
‘Well, he doesn’t make a point of it.’
‘But Tuesday he did.’
‘I suppose you’d say that. I would have settled for a quiet smoke, but Freddy insisted I had a drink.’
‘Who did you meet there?’
‘Nobody,’ she said. ‘But they’ll remember us, don’t worry. Freddy knocked my glass out of my hand, then made a fuss about paying up.’
‘What time did you leave there?’
‘Elevenish.’
‘Any memorable accidents at the Waldorf?’
‘Didn’t need any,’ she said. ‘They know us there. Just ask the head-waiter. He’ll tell you.’
‘And you left?’
‘About oneish, say quarter to. We were home here before half-past one. Then we went to bed in the same bed, and that’s that. He couldn’t have done it.’
‘Did he make a phone-call during the evening?’
‘No.’
‘Talk to anyone?’
‘The barman. The waiter.
‘What did he tell you about the ticket stubs?’
‘Before they took him away he told me to keep them in a safe place.’
‘And this was all of a pattern,’ Gently said, ‘with your other nights-out – the usual thing?’
She made the glass ting with a flick of her nail.
‘Christ,’ she said. ‘It was the first time in months.’
‘So going back a little,’ Gently said. ‘Now we seem to have established your husband didn’t murder Blackburn. You said he wanted to make sure you saw the notice in the paper, and I asked you why. I’m asking you again.’
She got up, carried her glass to the bar, began putting together a fresh drink.
‘It’s a question of
how much I owe Freddy,’ she said. ‘I like to be square. I don’t owe him so much. Maybe playing ball about his alibi clears me. I don’t want him sent up for what he didn’t do.’
‘So,’ Gently said.
She swizzled the drink.
‘Yes, he wanted to rub it in,’ she said. ‘Because Tommy had slept with me. Because Freddy tried to thump him for it. Because it was Tommy who thumped Freddy. He hated Tommy.’
She drank the drink standing at the bar then came back to the settee. She took a cigarette from the cigarette-box. Gently lit it for her. Her fingers were trembling. She sat down again, legs slanted, took some drags at the cigarette. Gently had stuck his pipe in his mouth but he was sucking on it empty.
‘I had plenty of reason,’ Mrs Grey said. ‘Don’t think I’m a nympho, something of that sort. It just isn’t me, doing that. Once upon a time I wouldn’t have dreamed of it. But then I thought Freddy loved me. He did love me, I’m sure of that. Once he loved me. Perhaps I should have had a child, only he didn’t want it, so I didn’t.’
‘How long have you been married?’ Gently asked.
‘Oh, four years, nearly five. I met him soon after he’d gone in with Tommy. He was different in those days, honestly different. I wanted a job. I was a typist, liked to call myself a secretary. I was sent to Tommy. He took me on. So I met Freddy. He did love me.’
‘You knew what their business was?’
‘Yes. Sugar. If it was anything different, I didn’t know it. Shipping sugar was what we dealt with in the office, and return cargoes, mostly machinery. Return cargoes were the big headache. The sugar side ran itself. We had twelve-month contracts with Hamish McClure to carry a fixed tonnage out of Kingston.’
‘Did you know your husband associated with black women?’
Her mouth twisted. ‘Not at first.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘At first he loved me. We did everything together. For a time.’
‘Then?’
‘Then we didn’t. I had to go home for some weeks to nurse my mother. It got so he wasn’t at home in the evenings when I phoned, said he was out chasing business. Some business.’
‘Other women?’
‘He was going around with Tommy and Ozzie. I always knew Tommy had black friends, he was in business with some of them at Brickfields. He had a woman, I don’t know her name, but she was beautiful. Plenty of that went on, you bet. Freddy was certainly getting his share. And after Mother died, everything changed. I saw less and less of Freddy in the evenings. And he didn’t want me, you know? It was after that. He stopped loving me.’
She ungummed the cigarette from her lips, ran her tongue over them, drew more smoke.
‘Did you row him?’ Gently asked.
‘Of course. I was hurt. Bitterly hurt.’
‘It did no good.’
‘None at all. It was suddenly too late. He’d gone away.’
‘You tried other things?’
She smiled tremulously. ‘Yes, but they weren’t any good either. It’s no use, just no use. When they stop loving they stop. You can be Helen and the Queen of Sheba, it doesn’t matter. They’re through.’
‘But something particular happened,’ Gently said. ‘It wasn’t just neglect that drove you to Blackburn.’
The cigarette stuck again. A piece tore from it when she tugged it from her lip.
‘One day I saw him with her,’ she said.
‘Who?’
‘A black woman. I don’t know.’
‘Where was this?’
‘She was in the car with him. Driving down Regent Street, bold as brass.’
‘You saw her face?’
‘No. Not properly. She was nicely dressed, had a lacy hat. The cat’s whisker. Freddy was grinning. Looked like he was on top of the world.’
‘That didn’t prove anything,’ Gently said. ‘She may have been a client, or a client’s wife.’
‘Yes, that’s what I told myself,’ Mrs Grey said. ‘Only I asked him about it. And he lied.’
‘You asked him outright?’
‘I’m not daft. I asked him if he’d made a trip that day. He said no, he hadn’t left the office, they’d had some trouble with bills of lading. So then I knew. And something came over me. Maybe it was then I stopped loving him. It’s the way you said, neglect couldn’t do it, not even that woman. It was the lie.’
‘Can you date that day?’ Gently asked.
‘Yes. The twenty-second of April.’
‘But you didn’t recognize the woman?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know any black people, anyway.’
‘You’d seen the woman who was friendly with Blackburn.’
Mrs Grey paused, watching her cigarette-butt.
‘I thought of her,’ she said. ‘She was very lovely. Somehow I didn’t think of her as just sleeping around.’
‘But was it she with your husband?’
‘I can’t be certain. You know how it is with people in cars. Unless you know them well you haven’t a chance. I can only swear to the car and Freddy.’
Gently sucked emptiness through his pipe.
‘Tell me the rest of it,’ he said.
She got rid of her butt in a crystal ashtray.
‘I don’t know I’m so very proud of that,’ she said. ‘Tommy was nice, but I wasn’t in love with him. He knew what was going on all right. Maybe he thought I’d be an easy lay, and he was right. I just didn’t care.’
‘He took the initiative?’ Gently asked.
Her shoulders hunched. ‘Do men ever do that? Unless a woman shows a flicker of green it never occurs to a man to try. So I gave him the flicker. Not very serious. Probably I only wanted sympathy. Then when he kissed me as though he liked me I felt warm and grateful and it went on from there.’
‘Where did you meet?’
‘Here mostly. Tommy often called round here anyway. He liked being a bachelor, didn’t like being lonely. Neighbours were used to seeing his car here. Once or twice we went out on the town, but I was mortally afraid in case we ran into Freddy. Tommy would laugh, tell me not to worry, he was pretty certain we were safe from Freddy.’
‘Did you fish a bit then?’
She nodded. ‘But men have a beastly code, of course. Or else he genuinely didn’t know who the woman was, just maybe knew where Freddy went to meet her.’
‘What about his own woman?’
‘Oh, he didn’t deny her. Just grinned and said she wasn’t jealous.’
‘Did you ever meet her when you were with him?’
‘No. Not to my knowledge, anyway.’
Gently sucked. ‘Let me put it together. Blackburn met you when your husband was absent. Blackburn knew when your husband was absent, knew where he was, though perhaps not who with. He knew you wouldn’t meet him if you went down West. And while Blackburn was with you, of course, he wasn’t with his black woman. Did you ever add that lot together?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I thought of most things. And I’m pretty sure Tommy would have done too, if Freddy had been messing about with his girl. Tommy was fond of her, I could sense that. He wasn’t just getting a kick out of her being black. Whoever Freddy’s woman was he was certain it wasn’t her, or he’d have thumped Freddy a lot sooner.’
‘She could have deceived Blackburn. It’s not unknown.’
‘No.’ Mrs Grey frowned. ‘I never actually met her.’
‘He wasn’t so fond of her that he didn’t play with you.’
‘That’s how men are. I still think he was fond of her.’
‘It could have been her.’
‘All right,’ Mrs Grey said. ‘It could have been. Just at the time I didn’t think it likely. But women are bitches and men are swine, so it could have been her, and I wish her the joy of him.’ Her eyes thrust at Gently’s. ‘Who is she?’
Gently shrugged. ‘We haven’t talked to her yet.’
‘But you know who she is?’
‘We know.’
�
��I’d like to talk to her, too,’ Mrs Grey said.
She stared for a long while at the coffee-table, her unusual eyes big.
‘You think she did it, don’t you?’ she said slowly. ‘That’s why you want her tied in with Freddy. He hated Tommy. If she was stuck on Freddy she might just have done it to please him. And she tipped him off. He knew she was going to do it. That’s why he took me out on Tuesday. He’s in it with her, an accessory. His alibi doesn’t mean a thing.’
‘You’re going ahead too fast,’ Gently said. ‘We haven’t talked to the girl yet.’
‘Oh God,’ Mrs Grey said. ‘My husband’s a murderer. Freddy. He let her kill him.’
‘Did she look like a murderer to you?’
Her dazed eyes turned to him.
‘None of this is proved,’ Gently said. ‘Character counts for something, you know.’
‘My husband’s character!’
‘Hers.’
‘An immigrant. You don’t know what they’ll do.’
‘That wasn’t the way you talked at first.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘It fits. It fits. Freddy is cruel. And he’s clever. I knew he’d get even with Tommy somehow. He hated him before this business with me, that only put the tin hat on it.’
‘What was his other grievance?’
‘Money,’ she said. ‘Always that. Tommy had it. Freddy wanted it. Said Tommy never paid him enough.’
‘Does Blackburn’s death benefit your husband?’
‘My God,’ she said. ‘Don’t you know? If one of them dies, it goes to the other. Freddy owns the business now.’
She lit another cigarette and sat hunched over it, her crossed arms against her stomach.
‘That’s how it was,’ she said dully. ‘I know. Freddy. That’s how it was.’
‘Where did Osgood come into it?’ Gently asked. ‘Was he included in the reversion arrangement?’
‘Oh, Ozzie.’ She tossed her head. ‘He’s not really a partner, you know.’
‘What do you know about him?’
‘You can forget him. Ozzie’s all right. Just simple. He wouldn’t plan anything deep, rotten. It isn’t in him. Either way.’