Dead Man Walking

by J F Straker

  Karen shrugged. “Like the man said, when you’ve got to go you’ve got to go.”

  Johnny waited. There was no movement in or around the car ahead, and presently he got out of the Hillman and strode angrily down the lane. As he drew level with the car he saw that both front seats were occupied, that there were vague shapes in the back. The faces of the men in front were turned away from him; they seemed to be watching something in or beyond the far hedge. With a proper sense of indignation at their disregard for fellow motorists Johnny pushed his head through the open off-side window.

  “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” he demanded. “You nearly ran us into the hedge back there, and now you stop on the bend and bang in the middle of the road.” No-one heeded him, and he pushed his head in farther. “It’s lunatics like you —”

  He caught just a glimpse of movement in the back before something soft but solid caught him a glancing blow on the back of the neck. Before he could recover the door was pushed violently open, and he stumbled back, vaguely aware that men were tumbling out of the car towards him. A pistoning fist landed rock-like in the pit of his stomach, another caught him on the ear. As he hit the gravel, from far off he heard Karen scream. Then a boot caught him in the ribs, another in the groin, and he passed out.

  3

  He recovered consciousness to find himself lying in the lane, with Karen kneeling beside him and his head cradled against her breast. Her eyes were big with sympathy and anxiety, and he tried to summon a smile as he blinked up at her. Had his body not ached so abominably he would have enjoyed the position. Even now he did not hasten to change it.

  “Nice fellows,” he muttered, and was surprised to find that lips and tongue functioned normally. His mouth was not swollen, and searching his teeth with his tongue he found that none were missing. “I suppose they’ve gone?”

  “Yes.” She stroked his forehead, pushing back the quiff. “How do you feel?”

  “Bloody sore.” He eased himself into a sitting position, clasping his head to contain the hammers within. “I may have a few broken ribs, and my sex life has probably gone for a burton.” He gasped at the sudden pain in his side. “Ouch! That hurt. Help me up, love, will you? I’d like to know which of my components are still working before trying to use them.”

  She helped him up. Arms and legs seemed to function at least adequately, and with her arm around his waist they went slowly back to the car. Apart from a splitting head and a dull ache in the groin, it was his right side that gave him the most pain. There were beads of sweat on his forehead as she settled him in the passenger seat.

  “Thanks,” he gasped.

  By the time she had climbed in beside him he had recovered sufficient breath to ask the number of his assailants. Three or four, she thought; it had happened so quickly she could not be sure. “One moment you were talking to them through the window, the next you were lying in the road with men all round you. By the time I had scrambled out of the car they were on their way.” She shuddered. “It was horrible. I thought they’d killed you.”

  “They did their best. Would you recognize any of them again?”

  “I wasn’t close enough. Their faces were just blurs in the dark. I couldn’t even say if they were tall or short.”

  Johnny nodded, and immediately regretted the action.

  “Same here. I think they were masked. But thanks for the scream. It probably stopped them from completing the job.”

  “Did I scream? I didn’t know.” She started the engine. “Now I’m taking you to hospital.”

  “The hotel will do. I might even let you nurse me.”

  “The hospital,” she said firmly, letting in the clutch. “You may have broken something. And I’m no Florence Nightingale.”

  “You were pretty handy out in the road.” He managed a grin. “Did you know you’ve torn your stocking?”

  “Yes. Did you know you have a black eye?”

  He had not known. Surprised, he put a hand to his face, cautiously probing the skin. The eye was sore, but he felt no swelling.

  “Probably dirt,” he said. “I seldom wash on Thursdays.”

  She drove slowly, keeping in low gear, steering to avoid the ruts for fear of jolting him. Not until they were back on the main road did she slip into top and allow the speed to increase.

  “Who do you think they were?” she asked. “Why should anyone want to harm you?”

  “They’re telling me to lay off. Like the Boozer said, I’m treading on their toes.” He eased himself in the seat. “They’d be the same lot as disfigured the Mule, I suppose.”

  “Will you lay off?”

  “Will I hell! I’ll get those bastards if it’s the last thing I do.” His voice softened as he added, “Besides, I couldn’t quit. I’d lose my hotel comforts.”

  She drove for a while without speaking. Presently she said, “How did they manage to find us? Do you think they followed us from the hotel?”

  “Must have done. Unless you told someone where we were going. Cooper, for instance. I saw you talking to him, and I bet he’s a regular big-mouth.”

  “Not him, no. I told my brother, but I didn’t say whereabouts in Brighton. I didn’t know. And I certainly didn’t know we’d be dining at that particular inn. I only thought of it when I saw the turning. Anyway, Joe doesn’t gossip.” There was a hint of defiance in her voice as she added, “I wouldn’t have had this happen for the world, Johnny. You know that. So don’t try to make out I’m responsible.”

  “Good Lord, no!” She jumped as he put a reassuring hand on her thigh. The car veered and straightened. “Even if you’d broadcast our complete itinerary — which you couldn’t — I wouldn’t have blamed you. I never thought of it as top secret. No, they just saw us leave and decided to follow, hoping for an opportunity to do what they did. Funny, though. I don’t remember noticing any particular car on our tail. Do you?”

  “No. But then I’m not a policeman. I’m not used to being followed.”

  “You’re not? I should have thought it’d be a regular occurrence.” He lit two cigarettes, handed one to her. “I suppose you didn’t get the number of the car?”

  “No.”

  “Neither did I. The Boozer’ll roast me for that.”

  The bruised eye had started to swell by the time they reached the outskirts of the town. His right side had gradually stiffened, and every jolt, every movement, gave him a stab of pain that made him sweat. Only the ache in his groin had eased. Hallelujah for that, he thought. Tonight’s a bum steer, but at least it’s there for the future.

  As they turned into the High Street he said weakly, “Couldn’t we settle for the hotel, love? Just for tonight. I’ll look in at the hospital tomorrow if I don’t feel right by morning.”

  “You’ll look in at the hospital now. And stay there, I shouldn’t wonder. If there’s anything you need —” She broke off and leaned forward over the steering-wheel. “What’s the crowd for? An accident?”

  They were approaching the Corner Garage. Although it was close on midnight, small groups of people had gathered on both sides of the road; cars were parked by the kerb, others on the forecourt. Normally the garage closed at eight o’clock. Now all the lights were on, and Johnny saw the tall figure of Nicodemus standing near one of the pumps.

  “Pull up,” he said quickly. “There. In front of the Wolseley.”

  She pulled up. But when he moved to get out she laid a detaining hand on his arm.

  “Don’t be stupid, Johnny. Stay here. I’ll find out what’s happened.”

  “I’ll be all right,” he muttered.

  He opened the door, wriggled his body round, and stretched his legs to the road. But when he started to heave himself up the pain in his side was so acute that he released his grip and fell back on to the seat. The sudden jolt made him cry out, and he gasped for breath, sweat beading on his face.

  “You see?” she said.

  He nodded. “You win. Get Knickers. He’s by the pum
ps.” Nicodemus came, his high forehead puckering in a frown as he stooped to peer at Johnny through the open window. “My, my! That’s quite a shiner. Been getting fresh with Karen?”

  Johnny ignored that. “What’s happened here?” he demanded.

  “There’s been an accident.” Nicodemus cocked his head to one side. “You know what? That eye’s an improvement, Johnny. It takes away the rather dull, vacant expression, if you see what I mean.”

  “I don’t. What sort of accident?”

  “Goodwin. Mrs Bollender’s boyfriend. He’s dead.”

  “Is he, though!” Johnny looked beyond the peering face. There was no sign of Karen. “How did it happen?”

  “We don’t know for sure, but it looks as though he fell from the window of his flat. He lives over the garage. Made a fair mess of him, too.”

  Johnny leaned forward to stare up at the open window. It did not look particularly high. Not high enough to make a mess of a falling man.

  “Poor bastard,” he said, sinking back into the seat. “Any witnesses?”

  “No-one’s come forward.”

  “Did you tell Karen?”

  “Yes. It upset her, naturally, but there was no deluge.” Nicodemus withdrew his head and arched his back. Johnny saw that he held something in his right hand. “Incidentally, you’re not the only member of SIN in bad with the opposition. They nearly got the Boozer this afternoon. Tried to run him down with a car. That’s his story, anyway. More likely he just didn’t look where he was going.” Nicodemus grinned. “All they got was his big toe. He’s hopping mad. Literally.”

  Johnny echoed the grin. It was an expression of relief rather than amusement. He was fond of the Boozer.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re safe enough, Knickers. They only go for the brains. What’s that you’ve got in your hand?”

  “That?” Nicodemus looked down. “Goodwin’s wrist-watch. At least, I suppose it’s his. I found it near the body. Must have been wrenched off somehow as he fell.” He dropped the watch into Johnny’s outstretched hand. “You all right?”

  “Karen thinks I may have bust a rib. She’s taking me to hospital. A lot of cock, of course. But typical feminine pessimism.”

  “You have to humour them.” Nicodemus was suddenly alert. “I’d better go, or the Boozer’ll start creating. That sore toe hasn’t improved his temper. See you.”

  It wasn’t until Nicodemus had disappeared inside the garage that Johnny realized he was still holding the watch. Waiting for Karen, he examined it. The glass had smashed and the hands were missing, but the leather strap and buckle were intact. So Nicodemus had been wrong in his surmise. The watch had not been wrenched from Goodwin’s body in the fall.

  Then how had it come to be lying beside his body?

  He took an envelope from his pocket. As he slid the watch into it something caught his eye, and he took it out again and turned it over.

  Engraved on the back of the case were the initials C.C.

  FRIDAY

  1

  THE DOCTOR was black: a small, chubby young man with a big smile and enormous teeth. “Lucky you’re well padded,” he told Johnny. “The treatment you got, you might have had all your ribs busted instead of one tiny crack.”

  “Well padded?” Johnny was indignant. “I’ll have you know that’s all solid flesh and muscle. Mostly muscle. Not an ounce of fat.”

  “Have it your own way,” the doctor said. “But it’s lucky you’re well padded.”

  He was gone before Johnny could think of a suitable retort.

  Karen visited him during the morning. As she came down the ward to his bed the eyes of the other patients followed her admiringly, some lecherously. Johnny felt a tremendous surge of pride as she bent to kiss him. It was like it had been at the inn the previous evening, but more personal, more potent.

  “What, no flowers?” he said. “No grapes?”

  “No flowers and no grapes. You’re coming out this afternoon.” She smiled. “That’s a beautiful eye you’ve got. Really colourful.”

  “Just kid stuff. If I weren’t strapped up I’d show you my side. Now, that’s something. All the way from armpit to ar—” He checked abruptly. “Bottom.”

  She did not stay long. And it was Nicodemus, not Karen, who came to collect him after lunch. Johnny saw the disappointment on the faces of the other patients, and sympathized with them. For himself it was only a temporary disappointment. She would be waiting for him at the hotel.

  “How’s the Boozer’s toe?” he asked, as they drove away.

  “Sore. He’s hobbling around with a stick. Right now he should be having a few choice words with your friend Sinclair.”

  “Sinclair? You mean they’ve found him?”

  “They didn’t have to. He returned home last night. His neighbour telephoned the nick this morning.”

  “Good Lord!” They had expected Sinclair to return — it was today Brown would be coming for the dogs — but they had not expected him to return openly. Was he then so sure that his innocence was apparent? “Is his missus with him?”

  “I understand not. But then you can’t have everything. And there’s more on Goodwin. He didn’t fall, he was pushed. According to the doc he was already dead when he went through the window.”

  Johnny did not find this surprising. Goodwin, Wheeler, and Lorna Ellingwood were linked together by the initials C.C., and all were now dead. Wheeler had certainly been murdered, so why not Goodwin? Come to that, why not the woman also? Motoring accidents could be fixed.

  Dennis Cooper was lolling against the reception desk when they entered the hotel. At sight of Johnny he sprang into action, notebook in hand.

  “Just a few well-chosen words, Mr Inch,” he pleaded. “Just the stark, vibrant facts. I’ll do the rest.”

  “I got run over by a train,” Johnny told him. “Didn’t Karen tell you?”

  “Karen’s not talking.”

  “That goes for me too. Try the engine-driver.”

  “Cooper’s beginning to chafe,” Johnny said, as they climbed the stairs. He felt only occasional twinges of pain; but his body was stiff and movement awkward, and he took it slowly. “He can bloody well wait for his facts. I’m making no statement without the Boozer’s say-so.”

  They were waiting in the superintendent’s room when they heard his stick stumping down the passage. He pushed the door open, nodded at the two sergeants, and sat down on the bed. No-one spoke as he eased a foot from its shoe, loosened collar and tie, and poured water into a glass from a carafe on the bedside table.

  “How’s the toe, sir?” Johnny asked. He wanted to giggle. It seemed a silly question.

  “Sore.”

  “You really think they tried to get you?”

  “It’s possible.” Sherrey drank in a series of noisy gulps, and smacked the glass down on the table. “What’s with you, you young idiot? Why the hell can’t you obey orders?”

  Johnny gaped at him, uncomprehending. He had not expected boundless sympathy, but neither had he expected abuse. “I don’t get it, sir. What orders?”

  “I said to take public transport, didn’t I?” Sherrey lifted one leg over the other, reached for his injured toe, and caressed it gingerly. It was bruised, but not broken. “Do you think they’d have done you if you’d gone by train?”

  “I suppose not. But —”

  “If you insist on living dangerously do it in your own time. What use are you going to be now, wrapped in bandages like a ruddy mummy?”

  “Strapped, sir, not wrapped. And —”

  “Strapped or wrapped, it makes no difference. You’re still —”

  “— it won’t stop me doing my job,” Johnny persisted. He was not given to shouting down his superiors, but he was furious that the Boozer should blame him for something he could not possibly have foreseen. “A sore foot could be a far bigger handicap to getting around.”

  Nicodemus gasped at his temerity. Sherrey smiled grimly. “We’ll see, Inch, we’ll see.
Now stop beefing, and give me the dope on the Ellingwood woman.”

  His anger flattened by the superintendent’s calm, Johnny obeyed. It did not help his ego that the information was sparse, and of little practical value.

  “Not one of your more splendid efforts,” Sherrey said. “But if it wasn’t there it wasn’t there. You can’t get it out of a stone. Heard about Goodwin?”

  Johnny nodded. “Mrs Bollender isn’t going to like that.”

  “I doubt if Goodwin thought highly of it either. Mrs Bollender’s reaction is yet to come. At present she’s in Italy.”

  “I understand he put up quite a fight.”

  “The state of the room suggests it. And the woman who lives over the shop opposite heard shouting: what she describes as a ‘commotion’. She got to her window in time to see him fall, and immediately rang the police. Anonymously. Then she had an attack of nervous hysteria and took to her bed. Didn’t come forward until this morning.”

  “Could she see into Goodwin’s room?”

  “No. It was in darkness, she said. All she saw was the falling body.” Sherrey released his foot and gently lowered it to the carpet. “The place is lousy with prints. But then most living-rooms are. Particularly in bachelor apartments. No regular dusting.”

  Johnny showed him the watch. He had felt guilty about keeping it overnight at the hospital, but he had considered it unwise to ask Karen to return it. The fact that Goodwin had been murdered seemed to explain why the strap was unbroken. No doubt the buckle had come loose in the struggle, and for some reason the murderer had thrown the watch after the body. Sherrey agreed with this interpretation. Perhaps the original intention, later discarded because of the damage done in the room, had been to stage accident or suicide.

  “Another C.C., eh?” he said, examining the watch. “Presumably some sort of code whereby members of the firm can recognize each other. Which again implies a big organization.” He put down the watch. “I fancy our three corpses were only lesser fry. They don’t read like big fish to me.”