Crane had expected to find a Mahon who’d be intensely guarded, if not hostile, but he seemed to want to talk, if only to justify himself. His friends would have heard enough, months ago, about the Donna killing, and probably wouldn’t listen any more. And maybe Mahon still wanted to talk so compulsively he was even ready to make do with him and Anderson.
‘Look, Bobby,’ Crane said, ‘I’d be really grateful for any help you could give me. You know who Donna’s contacts were. You must have your own suspicions?’
His pale blue eyes moodily met Crane’s. ‘Never trusted that arsehole she worked for. Leaf and Petal bloke. Seemed fond to me, know what I mean? Kept ’er on that winter. I thought aye aye, ’cause she knew fuck all about plants and that. They ’ad a Christmas do and I picked ’er up. Didn’t like the way ’e was eyeballing ’er in that tight dress. Fond. I could ’ave flattened the bugger.’
‘You think he might have been trying to get off with her?’
‘Sure of it. Mind you,’ he said dolefully, ‘who wasn’t with Donna?’ His eyes had a haunted look in the smoky dimness.
‘Trouble is, Bobby, Joe Hellewell’s alibi’s rock solid, just like yours,’ Anderson pointed out in his friendly way.
‘Fletcher then. I told ’er time and again not to ’ave nothing to do with the slimy sod.’
‘Same problem there, old son. The police cleared him.’
Crane said, ‘Bobby, I don’t want to upset you more than I have to, but do you think it’s possible Donna was seeing someone else on a regular basis? She was quite young, wasn’t she? Maybe she didn’t feel ready for a settled relationship.’
‘That’s what all the bother were about, weren’t it?’ he broke out. ‘Er seeing other blokes behind me back. All right, I ’ad a one-night-stand now and then, didn’t I, but that’s different, innit?’
Crane knew it was, in the male dinosaur climate of the Willows. ‘Do you know who any of these blokes might have been? It could be very important.’
‘She’d never let on to me, mister. She were always so close. She thought I’d go and put ’em in ’ospital. Too right.’
‘It must have made you very cross, Bobby,’ Anderson said mildly, in his deceptively leading way.
Mahon looked irritably from one to the other of them. ‘I didn’t ’it ’er ’cause of that,’ he said shortly. ‘That’s what they tried to make out, that I knocked ’er about ’cause of the two-timing. Well, I never. I only ’it ’er two or three times and that was ’cause she wound me up rotten. You don’t know what she could be like: said I weren’t going nowhere and me family were crap and me wheels should be on the tip and … and …’ He broke off, reddening. Crane guessed she’d probably jeered at his sexual technique too. If she’d slept around she’d be able to make value judgements. He felt no sympathy for a man who’d knock a woman about, but Mahon was only saying what Patsy had said, that Donna had had a fatal instinct for picking on all those things about yourself you least wanted to hear.
He caught Anderson’s eye, shrugged. They were getting nowhere. Crane didn’t even have an instinct about Mahon’s innocence or guilt. Bobby came from a criminal background, that was the trouble. It put him ahead of the game when it came to lying his way out of things, including murder. Yet for once in a blue moon he just could have been at home on a Saturday night and had the bad luck to choose a blue moon night when his girlfriend’s body was hitting the bottom of a reservoir.
‘Well, thanks for your help, Bobby,’ he said politely. ‘And I really am very sorry about Donna.’
‘We’ll let you get on with your pool,’ Anderson added. ‘Where’s Cliff, by the way? Unusual not to see you two together.’
That seemed to leave him even more depressed. ‘Don’t know,’ he muttered. ‘’aven’t seen ’im in weeks.’
‘Don’t say you’ve had a bust up with your best friend on top of everything else?’
Mahon took out a cigarette and lit it from a disposable lighter with a trembling hand. He sat slumped on the banquette, gazing with unfocused eyes over the pool table, where the others were chalking the tips of their cues and sipping from fresh pints.
‘Coming in, Bobby mate?’
He shook his head. ‘Next frame, Heppo.’
As the balls began clicking again, he suddenly started to cry, the tears rapidly welling and trickling down his tanned cheeks. He looked to be in a state of total despair, and maybe he was, but Crane knew from long experience that guilty men could weep just as bitterly as the innocent.
‘You don’t know what it’s like,’ he said once more, in a thin mewing tone. ‘All of ’em, the ’ole bleeding Willows, looking at you like you was shit. Crossing the street when they see you coming. Reckoning you’re not there. People you’ve known all your fucking life. Mrs Bateson … she were like a nana to me once, last week she spit at me! None of the totty’ll go near me, I’m that bad news. It gets round the clubs and them bitches won’t even dance with me, let alone …’
Crane thought, who could blame them? The story would be about that if you glanced at another man Bobby gave you a mouthful of signet rings and if you went out with one he topped you. And this would have gone on since Donna’s body had been winched up nine months ago. No wonder he seemed near-suicidal.
Anderson touched Mahon’s arm. ‘We know how you’re feeling, Bobby. We’ve seen it all. People can be very unfair. The police have cleared you, why won’t they accept it? In Australia the Aborigines call it pointing the bone. If they decide someone’s done something really bad in one of their little communities they actually point a bone at him, and after that no one will have anything to do with him. He’s out of it. They sometimes go off and die because they’re so unhappy. It’s a lousy deal, being cut off by your own people and that’s what they’re doing to you on the Willows. They’re not even trying to give you a fair shake and it’s just not on.’
Crane glanced at the reporter. He sounded sympathetic, but he’d managed to come up with an image that had left Mahon even more distressed. He’d gone pale, the cigarette smouldering between stained fingers. He wondered if this was the flip side of the Anderson charm. He’d spent untold hours on the story, maybe he was convinced it could only be Mahon. And if Mahon wasn’t going in front of a jury, why not rub it in that the jury of the Willows wouldn’t be a soft touch?
‘I didn’t do it, Geoff,’ he gasped. ‘I were crackers about ’er. I wanted ’er to live with me, we could ’ave put us name down for a council flat. It done me ’ead in, just clipping ’er them one or two times, I felt that bad about it. I couldn’t ’ave done that carry-on at Tanglewood, couldn’t ’ave. Christ, why won’t no one believe me?’
The two men walked across the car park to claim their motors. Crane still wasn’t entirely sure about Mahon’s guilt, though he’d not known a case where the evidence for it stacked up so credibly. No wonder the police had shelved it and moved on, having made every possible check. There was an outside chance the killer was someone who’d covered his tracks too well, but if the police couldn’t get Mahon out of the frame he knew they’d not look further, their resources were too limited. He said, ‘Well, thanks, Geoff. At least I got the measure of the beast, if nothing else.’
‘That stuff about the Abos. I thought it might loosen him up a bit, with him being already in a low state.’
‘There could be a delayed reaction.’ But he was certain there wouldn’t be. Mahon would get over it and the Willows would get over it, because that’s how life went on the estate. And for all his tears, Mahon had shown no anxiety about Crane making a fresh start on the case. That meant he either felt totally secure in his alibi, or might, just might, be as innocent as he protested he was.
Anderson peered round the car park. ‘Hell, what’s happened to my car?’ he said. Then he tapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘I’m losing it. I’m in the office runabout, my wheels are in for repair.’ He opened the door of an elderly Astra. ‘I thought for a second one of Mahon’s low life chums had n
icked mine while we were talking to him. They’re full of tricks like that. Keep in touch, Frank.’
Crane muttered, ‘In your dreams,’ as he got into his Megane. Anderson’s way with people like Mahon weren’t his, though to be fair the reporter had unknowingly given him what could be a very small lead, and so the meeting with Mahon mgiht not have been a total write off.
As Anderson drove back to the city, he knew he had to find some way of keeping tabs on Crane. He needed to know what he was up to every foot of the way and it wouldn’t be easy, as Crane, being ex-CID, would be skilled in fending off crime reporters. And Crane had been one of their best. He studied the angles, thought things through, picked up clues others had missed. And if Crane could come up with anything new on the Donna Jackson story, anything at all, Anderson had to be the first to get his hands on it. There was the big feature he wanted to write, which he was certain would be crucial to his future career. His future career was never out of his mind for very long.
THREE
‘Patsy?’
‘That’s me.’
‘Frank Crane. I’d like your help. Do you know a bloke called Cliff who was a mate of Bobby Mahon’s, by any chance?’
‘Known him all my life. Cliff Greenwood. He lives nearby.’
‘Wasn’t he Bobby’s best friend?’
‘Never go near each other now.’
‘Why’s that, do you think?’
‘Because Cliff thinks Bobby did for Donna, like everyone else.’
‘But … wouldn’t Cliff have been one of the three friends of Bobby’s who were supposed to have been at home with him that night?’
‘Yes, I’d say that that must mean he knows Bobby wasn’t where he said he was.’
‘What kind of a bloke is he?’
‘Cliff? He’s been bad news in the past, like the others. And then he got a really decent probation bloke on his case. Talked him into starting over, got him to go back to his joinery classes. He’s in the double glazing now and going straight.’
‘Would that be why he split with Bobby?’
‘No, they were still best mates even when Cliff started going straight. Bobby didn’t hold it against him. I think he was more than a bit envious, you ask me. I sometimes think if only Bobby hadn’t had Dougie and Myrtle as parents … what chance did he have, poor sod?’
‘I need to talk to Cliff, Patsy. Where does he spend his evenings?’
‘He never goes near the Goose now. They say he’s been seen in the Toll Gate now and then.’
‘Would you do me a big favour? I daresay he’ll still be at home. Could you ring him and ask him if you could see him at the Toll Gate? Tell him your mum and dad are thinking of buying that bungalow and would like an idea on cost for putting in double glazing. Then we could go together, if you wouldn’t mind and you’re free. I could pick you up.’
‘Oh, I’ll be free,’ she said ’in a resigned tone. ‘I usually am.’
The Toll Gate was old, small and cosy. It had chintzy curtains, planters and wall lamps with rose-coloured shades. It wasn’t the sort of place that did pool tables. Cliff Greenwood sat gloomily over a pint of lager, as if nostalgic for pop music and the clicking of snooker balls. He was a near-clone of Mahon and his friends, except that his reddish hair was normal length and neatly combed, and he wore a newish sports jacket and twill trousers. He had a plump, slightly spotty face and grey-green eyes that watched Crane warily as he and Patsy joined him at a circular table with an ornate metal base.
‘Hi, Cliff. This is a friend of mine, Frank Crane.’
He looked startled. It couldn’t have done much for Patsy’s morale, Crane thought, Donna’s plain sister, not known for pulling the guys. Any guys.
‘How do,’ he said grudgingly, not offering a hand. Crane put down their drinks and they sat.
‘I’ve got some leaflets, Patsy. They’ll give Connie and Malc an idea what we do. I can give you a ballpark on price if you can tell me how many windows the bungalow’s got, but I’d need to see it to give you a proper estimate.’
‘Cliff,’ Crane said. ‘Forget the double glazing. I’m a private investigator who used to be a cop and I’m working for the Jacksons to see if I can clear up Donna’s killing.’
‘What’s this bugger’s game, Patsy?’ he said tersely. ‘I’m here about windows and if we’re not talking windows we’re talking nothing.’
‘Look, Cliff,’ Crane said, ‘I needed to see you and I needed Patsy to vouch for me. You do want Donna’s killing clearing up, don’t you, if that’s humanly possible?’
‘Look, mister, I did all my talking to the real police. I’m not doing any more.’ He began to swallow the rest of his pint. ‘I’m out of here.’
‘Cliff …’ Patsy put a hand on his arm. ‘You know Mam and Dad. You know how gutted they are about Donna. They’ll not rest till someone gets banged up for it. You don’t need me to tell you who.’
‘I know that, I know that …’ He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I’m gutted as well. We all are. She was very special. But I’m not going to talk about it any more.’
‘The police believe you’re protecting your best mate, Cliff,’ Crane said evenly.
‘Best mate!’ He gave his head a single, disgusted, upward shake.
‘Everyone knows you had a bust up, Cliff,’ Patsy said. ‘And no one really holds it against you for not grassing him, not on the Willows. They think he should have done the decent thing and owned up to where he was. No one believes you were all staying in, playing cards. You know that as well as I do.’
‘Yes, well … see you around.’ He slammed down his empty glass and got up.
Crane said, ‘Cliff, do you understand what perverting the course of justice means? Well, that’s what they’ll think you’ve done if Bobby really wasn’t at home that night. And if it ever comes out that he wasn’t they’re going to lean very hard on you and the others for wasting police time. And if it comes out that Bobby really is in the frame …’
Half turned away, he glanced back at them. ‘I’ll just have to take my chances then, won’t I?’
‘And lose the first decent job you’ve had in your life? And your self-respect? What do you make: four, five hundred sovs a week? Are you ready to walk away from all that?’
His round face took on a troubled look in the gathering dusk. Crane guessed he’d never allowed himself to think as far as that. Agitated, he turned away again.
‘Cliff,’ Crane said quietly, ‘I have police contacts. They trust me. If you helped me I’d put in a good word for you. We could say you’d alibied Bobby under duress. That means you were afraid what the Mahons would do if you grassed him.’
‘Christ, what do you think they’d do if I grassed him anyway?’ he said, so jumpy now he wasn’t guarding his words.
‘They’d never know. I’d keep your name out of everything to do with them. We’re not even having this little chat.’
‘Cliff …’ Patsy said.
Finally, with intense reluctance, he sat down again, staring miserably into space, forehead deeply furrowed.
‘Patsy, would you mind getting Cliff another lager. And another for yourself, if you like.’ He gave her a ten pound note.
As she moved off, from where they sat in a corner of the small bar parlour, Crane said, ‘Look … Cliff, all I really need to know for certain is that Bobby wasn’t home that night. I can take it from there. It’s not worth my breaking sweat if I can’t get that confirmed.’
‘None of us was there,’ he said at last, in a low nervous voice. ‘Except Myrtle maybe. You can give her one at her place or yours, only she charges extra at her place, for the free drinks.’
‘None of you?’ Crane found it hard to stay calm.
Patsy put down the drinks, placing the change at Crane’s elbow in a neat little pile. ‘Sure you don’t want one yourself, Frank?’
‘Not just now.’
‘If any of this got out …’ Greenwood’s lips trembled.
‘Cliff, you know y
ou can trust me,’ Patsy said. ‘God, with a brother like Marvin never out of bother …’
Eyes flicking from her to Crane, he finally went on.
‘Dougie Mahon … he was working on a big one that night, wasn’t he? He said we didn’t need to be in their house, but if we did go out it hadn’t to be nowhere local, and we had to swear we had been at their place, just chance he ever got his collar felt.’
Crane sank back on the plush banquette. ‘So that’s it. You were really covering Dougie’s backside?’
The other nodded, a look of near-panic in his eyes for what he was forcing himself to admit. ‘Christ, why did she have to go and get herself topped the same night?’
‘So. Bobby couldn’t say he was anywhere else? Even if he hadn’t been with Donna?’
‘It was big, big,’ the other man said, almost in a whisper. ‘Dougie had to have a cast-iron alibi for if anything went wrong. It just meant Bobby had it too. If the two things hadn’t happened together there’d not have been all this bother, would there? Bobby’d be on his own and he’d have to prove where he was.’
‘But Cliff, murder!’ Crane said. ‘Surely you must have realized it had all got too big to handle?’
‘No one lets Dougie Mahon down,’ he said, the whites of his eyes briefly flaring. ‘Not even if Bobby had put half a pound of Semtex under the town hall.’
‘Did Bobby do it, Cliff?’
‘He swore he hadn’t. Over and over again. Even to his dad, even though he knew Dougie would never have grassed him. Dougie needed to look after his own arse and he’d always thought Donna was getting to be serious trouble anyway. He has a nose for things.’
‘Do you believe Bobby?’
He shook his head despondently. ‘He’d been me best mate since we were kids, but he was a born liar. Got it from Dougie.’
‘Liar, liar, pants on fire. That’s what they used to shout at him in the playground at school,’ Patsy added.
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