‘I think we’ve got him,’ Slider said, straightening up. ‘This can’t just be a coincidence. We’ve got him, Hart. Come and have a look.’
What was that smell? He heard a wooden creak and turned to look, just in time to see Benny the Brief in the doorway launch himself forward with his arm raised. Hart beat Slider’s reactions off the mark by twenty years, hurling herself in hard and low like a rugby forward, hitting Benny amidships and carrying him by her impetus backwards to hit the door jamb. He rolled round it and fell out into the passage with her on top of him, hitting wildly but largely ineffectually (thank God!) at her back with whatever he was holding. Slider threw himself at them, grabbing Benny’s business arm and slamming it to the floor with all his weight. The spanner – for it was he – jumped from Benny’s hand and hit the floor, skidding along it with an interesting scuffing sound like an ice-skater on a rink.
‘Get his other hand,’ he panted to Hart, trying to get his knee over the leg nearest him and hold it down. Benny was bucking like a teenage horse, but completely in silence. Slider supposed he had had the spare breath knocked out of him. Between them they managed to get him subdued and rolled over on his face, and Slider sat on him while Hart got his handcuffs out of his pocket and snapped them on. Once he was cuffed, Benny fell silent and still, so still that Slider thought for one rippling moment he might have snuffed it. But when he was dragged up to sitting position, he proved to be alive enough to bare his tiny hampsteads and spit at them. His aim, fortunately, proved faulty, though Slider wondered what Miss Bogorov would think of spittle on her carpet. It seemed ungrateful after she’d taken him in and ignored him so nicely.
‘All right, I’ll watch him, you phone for the cavalry,’ Slider said to Hart, and keeping a wary eye on Fluss he chanted the coppers’ hymn of triumph at him. ‘You do not have to say anything, but your defence may be prejudiced if you do not mention while being questioned something you later rely on in court …’ It didn’t quite have the swing of the old one, or the punch of the more informal ‘You’re fuckin’ nicked, mate,’ but it sliced the same way.
And at last he realised what the smell in the room was, the cold metallic ghost of the smell he was now getting hot and fresh in waves, the smell which, when he was sprawled on the hospital corridor floor, his nose had translated as escaping gas. It was Benny’s feet, clad for sneaking-up purposes in a pair of tropical-swamp trainers. He could easily have qualified as the only man in history to get his money back from the Odoreater company. As Busty had said – and Slider could see now why she hadn’t wanted to marry him – they didn’t half pen and ink.
He was still doing the formalities, of course, when Joanna arrived to have lunch with him; she obligingly went out to fetch sandwiches so that he could eat at his desk, and came back with an inspired roast beef and mustard with salad in a granary roll.
‘Where did you get this?’ he marvelled. Sid’s coffee stall only had white bread; the only granary Sid knew about was his grandad’s wife.
‘New sandwich bar just opened – you know, where the shoe repairers used to be?’ Joanna put down another bag with an air of minor triumph. ‘And they had a rather nice-looking banana cake. And I got you tea.’
‘You’re a wonderful woman. Your price is above rubies.’
‘I haven’t charged you yet,’ she said. ‘I’m thinking of adding on something for wear and tear to my nervous system.’
‘I thought you were looking a bit peaky. But you should be glad we’ve got him under lock and key.’
‘Only just. You could have been killed.’
‘I was quite safe with Hart,’ he said. ‘You should have seen her! Across that room like Linford Christie. When we were reporting to Honeyman he asked her what steps she took when she saw chummy in the doorway and she said “Bloody long ones, sir.” What a guy!’
Joanna eyed him. ‘You know she’s got a crush on you?’
‘Nonsense,’ he said through a mouthful of heaven. Of all sandwiches in the whole world, roast beef was his absolute favourite. ‘I’m old enough to be her father.’
‘That’s the point.’
He swallowed. ‘Anyway, I think she fancies Atherton. She seemed to be hanging around the hospital room last night.’
Joanna sat on the edge of his desk and took the lid off her coffee. ‘Yes, and what about last night? I suppose that it was this Benny creature that thumped you?’
‘Yes. I didn’t see at first how it could have been, because I left him at the pub with Busty, waiting to drive her home when the pub closed. But after I left Monty’s and before Hart and I went to his place, I rang Busty, and it turns out that after I left, she had a row with him, and told him she didn’t want him to drive her home, that she’d get a lift from the barman.’
‘How come?’
‘Oh, he didn’t like her chatting to me secretly up the other end of the bar. And I compounded my sins by kissing her goodbye – only on the cheek, but it was enough to rouse all his possessive instincts. She wouldn’t have it, and virtually chucked him out.’
‘So he, seething with jealousy, followed you with malicious intent? But how did he manage that? I mean, if you left before him—’
‘I did, but I didn’t drive off straight away. I sat in my car for a bit, thinking what to do next. I suppose when he’d finished having his row he came out and saw me.’
‘And you didn’t see him? You didn’t notice him follow you?’
‘I haven’t seen him following me at any time, but he’s been doing it for several days. That’s how he turned up while Hart and I were going through his pad – he followed me all the way from Monty’s. And he had his own front door key, of course, so he could let himself in quietly and creep up on us. Miss B, his landlady, shut herself in the kitchen and resolutely ignored the whole frackarse, even when the three of us were rolling about on the floor, and when the troops arrived with wailing sirens. We had to go and winkle her out to tell her we were taking him away – she didn’t want to know. You’d think we were the Cheka the way she looked at us.’
Joanna took a sip of her coffee. ‘So how did he square all this following people with earning a living?’
‘He didn’t. I should have picked that up, really, except of course that I wasn’t looking at him for a suspect. But Monty told me, when I first asked if Benny was pukka, that after his wife died he worked every hour God sent, but that for the last couple of weeks he hasn’t been turning in much money. Not surprising if he’d been driving about on his own business.
‘Presumably with the “for hire” turned off, so he didn’t get hailed.’
Slider nodded. ‘Of course, a black cab is the perfect vehicle – pardon the pun – for spying on people. You’re highly mobile, and you’re inconspicuous. Nobody notices you, or thinks anything of it if they do. All black cabs look alike to a layman, and nobody ever looks at the reg number. You don’t have to hide, or have an excuse to be there. And from the other side, nobody knows where you are supposed to be at any particular time. You’re unaccountable.’
‘Perfect for having extra-marital affairs,’ Joanna said.
‘Yes. I understand they do have a high divorce rate. Occupational hazard.’
She screwed up her sandwich bag and leaned over to drop it in his bin. ‘Like musicians and policemen.’
‘Talking of policemen,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Fluss is on the brink of confessing to the Cosgrove attack as well.’
‘He beat up Andy Cosgrove?’ Joanna said in surprise. ‘What on earth for?’
‘The same thing, jealousy. Cosgrove visited Busty at her flat on the day before he was attacked. Fluss had got so obsessed by then he spent a lot of time hanging around just watching her door. He knew who Cosgrove was, and Busty had told him about Andy’s affair with Maroon. Busty thought it was a charming story, but Benny disapproved strongly. So when he saw this lecherous reprobate coming out of his angel’s flat, it was too much for him.’
‘How did he manage to get him alone
?’
‘I haven’t got to the bottom of it yet – I’m going to have another go at him this afternoon. He’s still at the stage of hinting things, and only admits openly what he thinks I already know. But Cosgrove often hung around Monty’s garage, and he’d been making enquiries about something he was investigating. All Benny had to do was to get a message to him that he had some information, and arrange a meeting. I think,’ Slider said, staring reflectively at his banana cake, ‘that he probably didn’t mean to hurt him. From what he’s saying at the moment, I think he probably only meant to frighten him off, possibly by threatening to tell his wife, but finding himself alone with the bearded pillager he lost his temper and laid him out. He thought he’d killed him, so he bundled him in his taxi and dumped him on the waste ground.’
‘He must have been a little discomposed to hear that Cosgrove wasn’t dead,’ Joanna said mildly.
‘Yes, and I do wonder whether pulling him in when we did might not have saved Andy from being finished off. That, and the fact that Ron Carver’s been dealing with the case. If I’d been on both cases, and it had seemed that anyone was connecting them—’
‘But you did,’ Joanna said. ‘You’ve had the feeling all along they were connected.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘Yes, but that was just my dumb luck. I thought Yates was involved with both, and it turns out he was involved with neither. I haven’t won any bouquets for that, you know.’
‘You win mine,’ she said. ‘And I’m glad you’re not going to be a sitting duck any more.’
‘It may have served a good purpose. If he hadn’t been following me around, he’d have been brooding over Busty’s continued refusal to have him. I think she may have had a narrow escape.’
‘I’m supposed to be glad about that? Sooner her than you, for my money.’
‘But I’m paid to run the risk, she isn’t.’
‘I don’t buy that. She got herself mixed up with the bloke in the first place. She should have had better taste.’
‘You can be very harsh sometimes,’ he complained.
She looked at him. ‘I can’t tell you what it feels like to think every time the phone rings it’s going to be the hospital, to say they’ve got you there in more pieces than an IKEA flatpack waiting for an allen key.’
‘You sounded just like Atherton then.’
She wasn’t distracted. ‘Though these days I suppose if the phone rings it’s as likely to be Irene as anyone. What do I do, by the way, if she turns vengeful and arrives on the doorstep to batter me with a baseball bat?’
‘She won’t,’ he said.
‘You have no idea, Bill Slider,’ she said solemnly, ‘the strength of emotions you arouse in women. Well, I suppose I’d better go away and leave you to it.’ He looked at her gratefully, and she smiled. ‘I know. I don’t suppose I’ll see you before I leave for work tonight? No, I didn’t think so. Oh well, at least after this you’ll have some time off.’
‘I promise,’ he said.
‘And watch out for your little WDC. Don’t go sending out the wrong signals. I’m telling you she fancies you.’
‘I’ll prove you wrong,’ he called after her. ‘It’s Atherton she’s after.’
So he wasn’t entirely surprised, when he arrived almost drunk with weariness at Atherton’s room that evening, to find Hart there, sitting on the edge of the bed; nor to hear that Atherton was chatting her up – evidently inviting her to dinner at his place when he got out of hospital. Here it comes, Slider thought, the old infallible method. He got a female into his little bijou nest, laid a gourmet nosh in front of her, and once she got a sight of his cuisine, she melted into submission. How many women had he pulled that way? Well, about the same as he’d had hot dinners, by that reckoning.
‘Are you fond of fish?’ Atherton was saying.
‘Yeah, we eat it a lot at home,’ Hart said, unconscious of the approaching huntsman. ‘My mum was born in Jamaica. They eat fish there all the time.’
‘Well, you must let me cook you my special lemon sole,’ Atherton said. ‘I do it with lime and black butter, and it’s absolutely delectable. I call it my Sole Raison d’Être.’
Slider felt it was time to intervene. ‘You must be feeling better,’ he announced himself.
Hart jumped up. ‘I fink he’s tryna get off wiv me. Is that all right, guv?’
Slider spread his hands. ‘What have I got to do with it? I’m not your dad. Actually, I’m your debtor. I haven’t had a chance to say this properly to you, Hart, but your prompt action in Benny’s room probably saved both our lives.’
She looked pinkly pleased. ‘I didn’t even fink about it. It was just instinct.’
Slider looked at Atherton. ‘She shot across the room like an actor hearing the phone ring. Old Benny didn’t stand a chance.’
‘Yes, I’ve been hearing the denouement,’ Atherton said.
‘One bit Hart won’t have told you about, because I only heard it just before I left, is that Cosgrove regained consciousness this evening.’
‘That’s terrific. Does he remember anything?’
‘They don’t know yet. He’d still very dopey, of course, but at least he knows who he is, and he recognised his wife all right. They haven’t been able to question him about anything yet.’
‘We can only hope,’ Atherton said.
Slider went on, ‘Ron Carver’s at his bedside even now, hoping he’s going to disprove my contention that Benny the Brief did Cosgrove too.’
‘But Benny’s put his hand up for it!’ Hart said indignantly. ‘You put in a hard afternoon’s work on him to get that confession, guv.’
‘Mr Carver wouldn’t let a little thing like that get in the way. He’s got a whole line up of spare villains that he’d like it to be, and psychotics make false confessions every day of the week. He’s praying the forensic team aren’t going to find any traces in Benny’s cab, but my money’s on blood down the back of the seat.’ He chuckled at the thought of Carver’s rage when it did turn up. ‘How that man does detest me, to be sure!’ He oughtn’t really to say things like that in front of Hart, but euphoria was eroding his native caution. She’d find out the truth of it sooner or later, anyway.
‘Never mind,’ Atherton said, ‘I bet old Honeyman’s pleased to get the Paloma case sorted.’
‘As a dog with two willies,’ Slider said. ‘It might have been difficult to bring home without Benny’s attack on Hart and me, though we had the lip print match, plus all the circumstantial, the discrepancy in his statements and so on. But now he’s dropped himself in it, plus he’s made a full confession, so it’s all over bar the party-poppers. And Mr Honeyman can depart in peace, with a defiant digit in Wetherspoon’s direction. Absolutely in confidence, but I gather the powers that be have been suggesting poor Honeyman’s about as much use to the Department as a chocolate teapot, and that he couldn’t bring a case home if it was strapped to his wrist.’
‘It won’t do you any harm either,’ Atherton observed.
‘Do I note a hint of envy in your voice?’ Slider asked. ‘Can it be that you are beginning to feel a restless urge to get back to work?’
Atherton smirked a little. ‘Oh, well, I can’t help feeling that if I’d been around we’d have got a result in half the time.’
‘Bloody sauce,’ Hart said indignantly.
Slider said, ‘No, he really means he can’t help feeling it. It’s in his genes.’
‘She doesn’t yet know what I keep in my jeans,’ Atherton reminded him. ‘Besides, if our firm is going to be illuminated by her presence, I can’t wait to get back.’
‘Sadly, Hart is only a temporary loaner, as your replacement. Unless I can get the new boss to buy her for us – assuming she wants to stay, that is.’
‘You bet,’ said Hart economically.
Slider refrained from asking why. Discounting Joanna’s unwelcome speculation, did Hart want to stay for the joy of working in Shepherd’s Bush, or for the heady prospect of getting into At
herton’s boxers? Poor Sue, he thought, and wondered how Joanna would take it if Atherton did start something up with Hart.
But he had his own love-life to worry about. He hadn’t heard from Irene since she slammed the phone down on him, and he was wondering whether he ought to ring and try to placate her, little as he relished the prospect. The alternative was to wait for the solicitor’s letter – though he couldn’t altogether dismiss Joanna’s suspicion that she might get a visit from his ex-wife-elect, to rant if not to bash. Jealousy was a strange and potent thing. There had been times when he had wanted very badly to batter Ernie, and he wasn’t even in love with Irene. Actually, he didn’t know that Irene was in love with him, or ever had been, but there was that possessive demon that lurked in everyone, which said if I can’t have you, no-one else is going to. What Atherton called canis praesepis. One way and another, he was going to have to pay for his sins. Perhaps Atherton was taking the wiser part after all by not getting involved.
‘Actually, I have got a bit of news on that front,’ he said, coming back to the present. ‘Mr Honeyman sent for me this afternoon to tell me that they have named his replacement at last.’
Killing Time Page 30