The Devil's Home on Leave (Factory 2)

by Raymond, Derek

  Three dark, heavy men over by the bar were watching us all the time; their clothes were so casual that they glared.

  I said to Smitty: ‘Set them up again and keep the change.’

  He fondled the money away into his hand. When he came back with the round I said: ‘All right. I’m busy, what’s the score?’

  ‘Are those people really paying out?’ he said. ‘The five long ones? That’s what I want to know first.’

  ‘If you’ve got the best seat in the theatre,’ I said, ‘the State’ll pay for it.’

  ‘I’m taking a diabolical risk over this, opening my yap at all.’

  ‘Well, we all have to take risks, don’t we?’ I said. ‘That’s how we earn our wages.’

  ‘OK, it was Friday the thirteenth, all right,’ he said finally. ‘I remember that because it’s unlucky, ain’t it? It was around nine in the evening, and I was down in Hammersmith. I was over there casual, just casual, see, at a pub called the Nine Foot Drop.’

  ‘I know it,’ I said, ‘Tony Williams’s place. It’s full of villains, solid with them, even worse than in here.’

  ‘I’m being a right cunt,’ he said, looking round him. But he may not have seen the three heavies; they were dead behind him, about eight feet away. He took a big drink of the whisky he was using as a chaser; sweat broke out on his face.

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘there’s no need to wear your balls out. I’m not interested in what you were doing in Hammersmith; I just know it’s not your manor. And you ought to drink less cheap whisky,’ I added, ‘that brand’s playing havoc with your harpsichord.’

  ‘It’s all I can afford,’ he croaked, ‘and the way my nerves are, mate, I need plenty of it.’ His eyes kept darting about; they were a deep, liquid colour like a cross-bred rabbit’s. ‘We’re talking too long over this.’

  ‘Choke it all up, then. I’m not stopping you.’

  ‘I’ve gotter have more money up front. I mean a lot.’

  ‘You’ve just had a ton,’ I said, ‘now talk.’ He really was a horrible little git. He’d no bottle. He was a piss-artist who sold people down the river; anyone would do if there was a few bob in it for him. Over the stroke he’d pulled at Great Portland Street, he had actually grassed himself as well as the other two men in it with him, hoping to get off by turning evidence. He didn’t, though. He went down just the same, and got properly done over in the shit-houses on the twos.

  ‘Well, this geezer,’ said Smitty, ‘I don’t know if you know of him, but he’s bad news. And I mean really bad.’

  ‘How bad?’ I said. ‘Bad enough for his Christian name to be Billy? Or Bully?’

  ‘How the fuck did you know that?’

  ‘It’s practice and instinct,’ I said. ‘When you’ve had as much to do with murder as I have, some things that look difficult turn out to be really quite easy. Well, go on. He’s out of Ulster, place called Coleraine.’

  ‘That’s him,’ said Smitty. ‘Ex-paratrooper.’ He was sweating hard now, and it made him smell bad. ‘McGruder.’ He made a noise like a sob and said: ‘You’ve got to give me some more readies up front. A lot.’

  ‘What do you think we are over at the Factory,’ I said, ‘millionaires? OK, so you saw McGruder. What else? Anyone with him?’

  ‘I don’t know about with him, but there was a villain called Merrill Edwardes standing next to him for a while: fancy dresser, wears a blazer, glasses, about thirty, nice accent, scar on his left ear. They didn’t speak, but that don’t mean anything, it could’ve been a meet just the same. Then I saw Edwardes leave something on the bar and McGruder, he picked it up when he went for a slash – I’ve got an idea it was car keys.’

  ‘Yes, good,’ I said, ‘I like it. You’re doing well, Smitty, keep going. Then what? He talk to anyone at all in the pub?’

  The grass trembled. ‘No, but he looked hard at a geezer, and that’s terrible news, to be looked at by a man like McGruder.’

  ‘Who was he looking at? Come on.’

  ‘It was a grass I know called Jackie Hadrill.’

  ‘You mean the big grass? You don’t mean the one that put Pat Hawes away?’

  ‘That’s him.’

  ‘Christ, that’s worth another ton,’ I said, ‘only the trouble is, I haven’t got it on me.’

  The heavies over at the bar were looking at us all the time; one of them was picking his teeth with a match. They were the Grossman brothers over from Plaistow, and they usually went armed. Between them they’d already done forty years in the grey place, and I took a bet with myself that they hadn’t finished yet.

  ‘Anyone seen Hadrill around since you saw him?’

  ‘I haven’t heard of anyone seeing him.’

  ‘And Edwardes,’ I said. A lot was going on in my head now. ‘Yes, that name rings a bell too. So you saw Hadrill in the Drop and fancy that, you were probably the last person except the killer to see him alive.’ I added: ‘And where were you, by the way, for the rest of that night, while we’re at it?’

  ‘Christ,’ he said, ‘I really am going to spew if you go on like that. I was with three mates and a dolly all that night and I can prove it.’

  ‘Lucky for you,’ I said, ‘with your form. You get your end away?’

  ‘No bleeding chance,’ he said. ‘We just played cards over at her place and then one of the other geezers took her knickers off after.’

  ‘I’m surprised he could wait that long,’ I said, ‘the friends you’ve got. What were you playing? Seven card?’

  ‘Yeah, hi-low, and I lost.’

  ‘Well, I can’t hold your hand for you, can I?’ I said. ‘I should just give up poker if I were you. So you reckon they were car keys, then, the things McGruder picked up?’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t swear to it, but I reckon so, yes. Or to a flat.’

  ‘All right. So then Edwardes leaves the pub first, and then after a while McGruder leaves. Then, finally, Hadrill leaves. Is that right?’ He nodded and I said: ‘And nothing between any of them? Not a word?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You got an address for McGruder at all?’

  ‘Yes, I reckoned that might be a few extra bob – I’ve got it for you. I’ve got ways.’ He palmed me a scrap of paper which I pocketed fast.

  I drained my pint and stood up. ‘OK. Well, drop round and see me at the Factory, and when I’m happy with the statement you make, the paper’ll pay you off half – the other half on conviction. That’s how it’s played.’ I glanced at the three heavies behind us. ‘On second thoughts,’ I added, ‘I think you’d better come with me if you know what’s good for you. You’ve got the Grossmans dead behind you and they’re taking a kind of interest.’

  ‘Leave with you?’ he scoffed. ‘From here? I wouldn’t be seen dead with you anywhere. Ken, Harry and Dave, they’re good mates of mine anyway.’

  ‘I didn’t know they had any mates,’ I said, starting to leave. ‘Still, it’s up to you.’ Afterwards, I regretted that; if I hadn’t had so much on my mind I’d have insisted, but we all make mistakes. I looked back from the door in time to see the brothers moving towards Smitty; his mouth was opening, as usual.

  The weather had changed. Black clouds had moved in to cover the sky, and it was starting to weep with rain.

  17

  ‘You’d better come in.’ McGruder smiled, opening the door.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Try keeping me out.’ I went in and stood looking about. ‘Not bad,’ I remarked, ‘if you don’t mind everything being repro.’

  ‘Well, I don’t frankly mind,’ he said.

  ‘Then neither do I,’ I said, ‘so let’s make ourselves comfortable, this is going to take a minute or two.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ He sat down in a hard little armchair upholstered the colour of milk chocolate. His Ulster accent showed through a little. ‘Is it down to the old?’

  ‘No, Billy,’ I said, ‘this is a brand-new thing.’ I went over to the window and looked out. It was four in the afternoon. Op
posite, six eleven-floor blocks stood about in the unimaginative attitudes of those who had conceived them, on a piece of waste ground. Far away, across the river to the north, what was left of London these days tried to look cultured and inviting. It failed – anyway, with me.

  ‘You could give a man a turn,’ he said behind me, ‘coming in like that.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ I said, ‘not you. With what you’ve got on the slate you must be used to it.’

  ‘What’s paid for’s paid for,’ said McGruder. ‘Don’t let’s talk about that.’

  ‘Oh, so you think it’s paid for, do you?’ I said. ‘What does that mean? That you think you can go out and do it some more?’

  ‘Listen, what’s this about, exactly?’

  ‘I’ll ask the questions, Billy; you just answer them, that way we both know where we are. You been back in Britain long?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Any identification on you?’

  He shook his head: ‘I’m not obliged. Anyway not yet, not till the plastic cards come in.’

  ‘You here on a British passport?’

  ‘Of course not. Eire. I work a lot abroad and listen – you are needling me for some reason and getting right up my nose, why are you having a go at me?’

  ‘Because you’ve got nasty habits,’ I said, ‘and have been inside for murder, garrotting a man, and I’m checking up on you on principle, and also your face might just be the missing piece in the puzzle of this new thing I’m investigating.’

  ‘I suppose that means you want to have a look round the pad?’

  I nodded. ‘Yeah, I think so.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’ve got a W on you.’

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘don’t be pathetic. Don’t start being a know-it-all about the paperwork, or I might just, to cross a few t’s, drift back over to the Factory and get one.’

  ‘And what would the charge be?’ he asked in his lilting voice.

  ‘It could be murder.’

  ‘You’ll be lucky,’ he said. He yawned. He was thirty-three and dark-haired, with a small neat head. His white ears curled tightly into his hair; they had no lobes to them. He hardly had any lips either – just a smile like the slit in a pillbox. His gaze cut straight through you.

  I said: ‘You’ll go down really hard with your form if I can fit you to this. You’ll never come up again, Billy. This time you won’t bounce.’

  He didn’t seem to care. He was wearing a red wool pullover, tight black slacks and shoes with gilded buckles on them.

  ‘What was the job, then?’

  ‘It was a wet job,’ I said, ‘at least it was until someone boiled it dry.’

  ‘And you’re looking at me?’ He laughed. ‘You’re like one of those riddles my old grandad used to pull out of a cracker on Christmas Day.’

  ‘Well, I’d watch your tone if I were you,’ I said, ‘because today isn’t Christmas and I’ve forgotten my funny hat.’

  ‘You people can’t take a joke.’

  ‘No, we’re serious folk,’ I said. ‘It can come from looking into some shopping bags.’

  There was a silence. At last he said: ‘Are you talking about that job at Rotherhithe? You can’t be, for Christ’s sake! It must have been a nut that did that!’

  ‘You’re right,’ I said, ‘and my job is to put a name to him and do him. He’s got to be caught.’

  ‘Yes, Christ! Cooking a feller up, it’s dreadful!’ said McGruder solemnly. ‘It makes you really want to puke, what a sick bastard!’

  ‘You can stuff the morals,’ I said. ‘Mind if I have a look round here?’

  ‘Well, frankly I’m not keen,’ he said. ‘I’m one of those people, I’m fussy, I don’t care to have my gear messed about. I used to be in the army, and it comes of that I dare say.’

  ‘I dare say too,’ I said, ‘also from being in the nick a long time. Well? Can I do it? Or do I have to go back to the Factory for the paperwork?’

  He shrugged. ‘OK. I’m not a man to make difficulties.’

  ‘For someone with your form,’ I said, ‘it sounds funny to hear you say that.’

  He thought that over. ‘Look,’ he said finally, ‘I’ll try and be kind about this, but you’re beginning to give me a pain. Tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll tell you if it’s here. Or else, OK, just get on and have a look round.’

  I already was.

  ‘I’m not being deliberate,’ he said, following me around, ‘but that way we’ll save each other a load of trouble, and then you can be on your bike.’

  ‘With people like you,’ I said, ‘my bike has a flat tyre.’

  ‘What are you after, exactly?’ he said, leaning against the wall.

  ‘Well, it’s not a sailmaker’s needle this time round.’

  There was another pause, which I spent whipping through his gear.

  ‘I should think it bloody isn’t. I’m no sailmaker.’

  But it took him quite a while to come up with that one. Then he said: ‘What is it you’re looking for, then?’

  I said: ‘If I found a humane killer that would be just right.’ I was into the bedroom by this time and had the mattress off on the floor. ‘Don’t go mad,’ I said, ‘I’ll put it all back again when I’ve finished and you can sleep tight; I’m not an unfriendly man.’

  ‘You won’t find a humane killer or anything else like that here.’

  ‘No, you threw it in the river like a sensible man. How much did you cop for the job, Billy? A grand? Two grand?’

  ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘what makes you pick on me?’

  ‘Well, let’s just start with the fact that you’ve done seven for murder and you’re worth keeping an eye on.’

  ‘You don’t even know who the geezer was yet,’ he said, ‘it says so in the linens.’

  ‘You’re wrong there,’ I said. ‘When did you last see Jackie Hadrill?’

  ‘I’ve never heard of him.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Billy,’ I said, ‘even the general public’s heard of Jack Hadrill, let alone every villain, and now, you wouldn’t believe it, he’s gone and disappeared and not a squeak’s been heard out of him since the night of April the thirteenth, and where were you that night?’

  ‘I was pissed out of my brain in a pub in Hammersmith.’

  ‘Rare for you; people I’ve been asking tell me you don’t drink. Which pub was it? The Nine Foot Drop?’

  ‘Could have been.’

  ‘I’m asking you was it,’ I said. ‘Now don’t fuck me about, Billy.’

  ‘Yes, it was the Nine Foot Drop,’ he said, ‘and I was with some mates of mine there.’

  ‘It had better be good,’ I said, ‘I shall want the names.’

  ‘You can have the names.’ He added: ‘I reckon there might be plenty of people would have wanted to waste a geezer like that.’

  ‘Who, for instance?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But you know, grasses, they usually don’t last long, do they? But what I still don’t get is, why pick on me?’

  ‘There’s no secret about that,’ I said. ‘This is a big city, but I can’t think of six villains in it that would have used a humane killer for a topping job. I’ll go further. Right now I can only think of one, and you may not believe this but fancy, you’re the one.’

  ‘I don’t even know yet,’ he said, ‘as a matter of interest, how you’re sure it was Hadrill; I saw on telly how he was all boiled away to a mess.’

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I keep telling people I come across, anybody that’ll listen, how stupid killers are. Particularly when they’re trying to be extra clever – that’s just what drops them in the shit.’

  ‘None of my business,’ said McGruder, ‘but I think it’d have to be a sight stronger than that.’

  ‘And it is,’ I said, ‘and it is your business. Because you were seen in the Nine Foot Drop that night. Also there was a man called Edwardes standing next to you for a while at the bar.’

  I wished I could find Edwardes; it wasn’t
for want of looking.

  McGruder shrugged. ‘Look, I was there on the evening of the thirteenth, there’s no secret about it. Tony Williams the governor there put me up – six of us spent all night in his flat upstairs rabbiting and playing cards. So what about it?’

  ‘If it’s waterproof,’ I said, ‘that’s all about it, Billy. But I’m gnawing at it, and if it isn’t kosher I’ll find where the leak is and when I do, it’s you that’s going to leak, OK?’

  ‘I don’t believe anyone saw anything,’ said McGruder, ‘I reckon it’s just a blag.’

  ‘You can believe what you like,’ I said, ‘if I crack you you’ll have all the time in the world to work out where you went wrong. For the time being, I’m working on it, but I find it strange – same pub, same night, you a convicted killer, and Hadrill vanishes. I find the whole thing a great big coincidence, and I believe in them like I believe in Father Christmas, i.e., not at all, get it?’

  ‘What I get,’ said McGruder, ‘is that the counsel I can afford, he’d rip it all to pieces if you were daft enough to have a go, you’ve no proof.’

  ‘It’s early days,’ I said. ‘It isn’t proof yet, but it could easily be evidence, and you might find it will be by the time I’ve finished with it.’

  ‘You’re trying to fit me up for this, then,’ said McGruder in an easy voice. He kept smiling, even though the smile wasn’t really wanted just then; he had the look of a man, to me, who knew he was in trouble.

  ‘Yes, I’m going to have a go,’ I said. I stood up. ‘I’ll be in and out, Billy. Bye for now, and happy wanking.’

  18

  Next morning, Saturday, I had proof that the body in the bags was Jack Hadrill’s. His boyfriend, who hadn’t been able to get into the Notting Hill pad that he shared with Jack, broke in (he was a tealeaf), and there was a letter on Jack’s bed which he finally brought into us after sweating a lot, hoping to do himself some sort of good. The letter was dated the thirteenth and in it Jack said that he was due to go out that evening – he didn’t say where – but he wondered if the meet wasn’t moody. He added that he’d been offered a deal with a lot of money in it by an anonymous punter. He’d left the flat key under the mat so that the friend could get in anyway, but the latter had been too stupid to look for it there. He was just, I thought when I had had a word with him, one of those people who preferred breaking into a place to using the key.