by J F Straker
‘We can’t help that.’ Forthright was annoyed at the other’s persistence. ‘You kept her waiting long enough; a few more weeks won’t make much difference.’
Wickery spoke for the first time.
‘You’re a lot of ruddy fools,’ he said slowly. ‘There won’t be any money.’
They stared at him. Chitty swore blasphemously and stood up. Wells put a restraining hand on his arm.
‘What the hell are you getting at?’ Forthright demanded. ‘If that’s meant to be funny it doesn’t make me laugh.’
‘One of you double-crossed the rest of us when he murdered White,’ said Wickery. ‘He deliberately put us in a spot that may cost us our lives. And if he could do that do you think he wouldn’t hesitate to double-cross us over the money as well? You can bet your bottom dollar that it isn’t there, that he bagged the lot for himself, the swine.’
There was a stunned silence. Then Chitty pushed his chair away so that it fell with a crash. ‘We’ll soon settle that,’ he said grimly, and made for the door.
Forthright barred his way. ‘Don’t be a fool, Dave. Do you want the police to know we killed White?’
But for once Wickery supported Chitty.
‘There’s not much risk,’ he said. ‘They’d never think we would try to recover the money from under their very noses. Probably there’ll be no one about; and even if they catch us we can say we needed a bit of scrap from the dump. That sounds reasonable enough — we’ve done it before. I reckon we ought to find out where we stand, if only to know just how big a rat one of us is.’ And as Forthright moved slowly away from the door he added, ‘But I don’t think Dave ought to go alone. One of us had better go with him.’
‘Meaning what?’ Chitty demanded angrily.
‘Meaning that I don’t trust you, Dave you nor the rest of them.’
‘All right,’ said Forthright. ‘You go with him.’
To the two who remained the time passed slowly. Wells said he thought Wickery was putting the wind up them unnecessarily. Bert used to be such a cheerful chap, he said, and now he was morbid and suspicious of everyone. He ought to get a grip on himself or he’d go to pieces completely. Of course the money was there. None of them was the type to play such a low-down trick on his pals.
Forthright was not so optimistic; nor was he surprised at the change in Wickery. ‘He’s a good sort, but he lacks guts. He’s scared, Pop — scared stiff. And hell! Who can blame him? When I think what may happen to us I’m scared myself.’
‘So am I,’ Wells admitted.
When the two men returned there was no need to ask the result of their mission. The expression on their faces was enough.
Not a brass farthing,’ said Chitty. ‘Not even the perishing box.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Wells.
‘We practically moved the whole ruddy scrap-heap from one side of the yard to the other,’ said Wickery. ‘You’ve had the money, Pop.’
‘What do you mean by that, blast you?’
‘Nothing personal. Just a manner of speaking.’ Wickery slumped wearily into an armchair. ‘But there it is, the money’s gone. One of you three is a pretty wealthy man right now — damn you!’
He had spoken quietly at first, but the last two words were uttered with such venom that even Forthright was startled.
‘Cut that out, Bert,’ he said sharply.
‘Stop trying to whitewash yourself! As far as I’m concerned you’re as likely to be guilty as Pop or Dave. More likely, in fact.’
‘Hear, hear!’ said Chitty.
For some minutes they argued furiously, each vying with the others in his attempt to divert suspicion from himself and to cast it elsewhere. They were now, as Wells pointed out, without money, without a job, and in danger of being hanged. And whoever had let them in for all that deserved to be hanged!
A loud banging on the ceiling quietened them. Forthright ran upstairs. While he was gone the others sat silent, eyeing each other malevolently.
‘She was a bit fussed,’ said Forthright when he returned. ‘Didn’t like the way we were shouting.’
‘Maybe we’d better clear out,’ Wells suggested. ‘Talk it over when we’ve cooled off a bit.’
‘Not yet,’ said Wickery. He turned to Chitty. ‘You’ve been opening your big mouth quite a lot this evening, Dave. Suppose you open it just once more and tell us where you really broke your glasses last night?’
Chitty flushed. ‘What’s biting you now, damn you? Didn’t you see me fall? Why, it was you who found them, blast it!’
‘The frame, yes — but not the lenses. Harry and Pop looked this morning, and there was no sign of any broken glass.’
‘Well, what of it? They must have looked in the wrong place.’
Forthright shook his head. He was angry with Wickery for having raised the matter so abruptly and at such a time, when their tempers were frayed and there was little likelihood of getting Dave to own up. He had meant to speak to Dave quietly, and alone. ‘No, Dave. I know every inch of that path — I couldn’t be mistaken. You never broke those glasses where you said you did. They must have been broken before.’
‘Here, what the hell is this?’ Chitty stood up, banging his fist angrily on the table. ‘Wasn’t it you who was all for us getting together and no questions asked? Stop snooping, can’t you? Leave me alone.’
‘We’re not snooping — not in the way you mean, anyway,’ said Wells evenly. ‘We’re not trying to fix you, or anything like that. But we must know where you broke those specs, Dave. It’s important.’
‘I don’t see why.’
‘Then you’re a damned fool,’ said Forthright. It was too late now for niceties and soft soap — they’d have to bludgeon it out of the fellow. ‘Come on —where did you break them?’
Chitty hesitated, looking from one to another of the grim faces watching him so intently. He seemed about to speak, but Wickery’s bitter tongue did not wait for him.
‘You broke them when you murdered White, didn’t you? And you left the broken glass in White’s room, you stupid fool, so that the police could find it and convict the lot of us. And then you have the nerve to stand there and say you don’t think it’s important. You ought to be shot!’
It was too much for Chitty. He caught Wickery a terrific buffet on the cheek, sending him sprawling; and then they were on the floor, fighting grimly. Chitty had his hands round the other’s throat by the time Forthright managed to drag him clear.
‘You damned idiots!’ stormed Forthright, as he and Wells stood between the two combatants. ‘What the hell’s come over you both?’ He turned to Chitty. ‘Bert had no call to speak like that; he deserved a hiding, and he got it. All the same, he’s not the only one who thinks you may have broken those glasses in some place which is going to look mighty suspicious. And if you did then we’ve a right to know where it was. We’re all in this together, don’t forget.’
But Chitty was past argument or reason. His beady eyes, red-rimmed, glared at them balefully.
‘Go to hell, the whole boiling lot of you. But I’ll tell you what I think. Maybe I was in favour of White being killed, but so were you, Harry; and for all Bert’s sissy talk I bet he was as keen as the rest of us to see the end of the swine. You and Bert planned this job between you, Harry, and it was you who wrote on the pieces of paper; dished ‘em out, too. There’s been some funny business somewhere, if you ask me, and you two devils are at the bottom of it. Pop and I are just a couple of suckers. Well, I’m not going to be a sucker any more. From now on you can count me out — I’ll look after myself, thank you. But I didn’t kill White, and if anyone tries to frame me I’ll know how to deal with him. So look out!’
The door slammed behind him. Pop wiped the sweat from his brow.
‘It’s been too much for him,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure it isn’t getting to be too much for all of us.’
‘Rot,’ said Forthright. ‘But he’s a ruddy young fool, and unless someone knocks some sense into him he’ll wreck the
whole damned show.’
‘I don’t mind having a bash,’ Wickery said.
‘You? That’s just about what you would have, my lad. He looked like giving you one this evening, anyway.’
‘The police were searching the field this afternoon,’ Wells said thoughtfully. ‘The one where Dave’s supposed to have bust his glasses.’
‘Well, they won’t find anything there.’
‘No. But doesn’t that look as though Dave didn’t kill White? I mean, if the cops had found his broken lenses in White’s room, why should they be looking for them in the field? It wouldn’t make sense.’
Forthright stared at him. ‘You’re right!’ he exclaimed. ‘Why the devil didn’t you mention that before?’
‘I don’t know. With all this rumpus about the money, I suppose I just forgot.’
Wickery was gazing intently at Forthright, watching him as he paced jerkily up and down the room. ‘I suppose there wasn’t any funny business with those pieces of paper?’ he said softly, almost as though he were asking the question of himself.
But Forthright heard him. He stopped his pacing and stood over the seated Wickery, his manner threatening.
‘First Dave, then you,’ he said fiercely. ‘I’ve had just about enough of this. You know damned well there wasn’t any funny business. There couldn’t have been — you chose your own piece of paper, didn’t you? I didn’t force you to take it.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘And since you’re so free with your accusations, Bert Wickery, let me ask you this. How was it you knew the money wouldn’t be under the scrap-heap, eh? Was it because you’d put it some place else, somewhere where only you could find it?’
‘Now it’s you who’s being foolish,’ Wickery said disdainfully. ‘You know damned well I was only guessing.’
‘Do I? I’m not so sure. And here’s something else I’d like to know. Why were you late getting to the garage this morning?’
‘Because I was trying to prevent Doris from coming with me, that’s why. I wanted to spare her.’
‘Spare her from what?’ Forthright sounded triumphant. ‘How did you know there’d been a murder?’
Wickery flushed. ‘I’m going home,’ he said. ‘I’ve had enough of this. Maybe I was wrong to start accusing Dave, but at least I had a damned good reason. You’re just being offensive for no reason at all.’
He felt tired and spent as he crossed the fields to the village. Pop was right, he thought, we can’t keep this up much longer. The realization that his ordeal was not over for the day, that Doris would be waiting at home to question him, caused his spirits to sink still lower.
I’ll slip into the pub for a drink, he thought. Maybe that’ll bolster me up a bit.
The landlord was pleased and surprised to see him. ‘Over a year since you been in, Bert,’ he said. ‘The darts team’s never been the same without you and Harry Forthright. One from bottom of the league, we are.’
Wickery smiled listlessly. ‘I’ll have a whisky, Sam,’ he said.
‘Whisky, is it? Gone off the beer?’ He put the glass on the counter and reached for a siphon. ‘Nasty business, this murder. How’s it going to affect you chaps at the garage?’
‘We don’t know yet.’ Wickery added a splash of soda and sipped the whisky appreciatively, feeling its warmth inside him. ‘I expect Mr Loften will carry on. For a bit, anyway.’
The landlord leaned across the counter.
‘The police come to see me this afternoon,’ he said confidentially. ‘Asked quite a lot of questions, they did, about you and the others up there. How often was you in the pub, did you drink a lot — things like that. But I told them. Haven’t set foot in the place for over a year, I said; only Dave Chitty. But the other three — gave it up just like that, I said. Even resigned from the darts club.’ He frowned. ‘A pity about Dave. I did what I could for him, but there’s no denying he comes in most nights. Not that he drinks heavy, mind you; just reg’lar. I told them that.’
‘Thanks for trying to help, Sam.’
‘Think nothing of it, lad.’ The landlord laughed. ‘I told ‘em,’ he said again. “If I had to rely on them chaps for a living,’ I said, ‘ I’d be out of business in two shakes of a duck’s rudder.’ A glass banged impatiently in the public bar. ‘All right, I’m coming.’ He grinned at Wickery, leant across and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. ‘Keep your pecker up, son. And give my love to Doris.’
As Wickery had expected, Doris was waiting for him. He noticed that her cheek, not her lips, was proffered for his kiss.
‘Where have you been?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I’ve been worried sick about you.’
‘I’m sorry. But the others wanted to talk over this wretched business, and I couldn’t very well refuse.’
‘They wanted! How about me? Do you think I didn’t want to discuss it with you?’ She sniffed. ‘You’ve been drinking, Bert.’
‘I dropped in for a quick one on the way home. It’s been a hell of a day; I felt I needed something to buck me up.’
She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. Then she shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’ll get your supper,’ she said. ‘It’s ruined, of course, but I suppose it’s still eatable. There’s nothing else, anyway.’
He had no desire for food. The whisky, he decided, had not done its job; all he wanted was bed and sleep. But he had to eat something, if only to calm Doris. He was glad that the fish was burnt; he could pick at it without her remarking on his lack of appetite.
Doris picked up her knitting. She did not speak again until he pushed his plate away and reached for the tea-pot. Then her fingers gradually slowed, and she said, looking at him with a flush on her cheeks, ‘Bert! Who do you think killed Uncle Andrew?’
‘I don’t know.’ He stirred his tea slowly and steadily, his eyes fixed on the steaming liquid. ‘Hadn’t we better leave that to the police? It’s their job, not ours. We’ve nothing to go on.’
‘Have they? Anything to go on, I mean?’
Wickery shook his head. He wished he knew the answer to that question.
The needles started to click again. ‘The Inspector was here this afternoon,’ said Doris.
That shook him. ‘The Inspector? What did he want?’
‘He asked me whether you’d had your wages reduced during the past two years.’ ‘Why did he want to know that?’
‘He’d heard that trade had been poor at the garage last year.’
‘Oh. Well, I can’t see what that has to do with White being murdered,’ he said, partially relieved. ‘What did you tell him, anyway?’
‘The truth, of course. I said your wages had stayed the same ever since we got married, and that he could look at the books if he didn’t believe me. They would tell him all he wanted to know about wages and trade, I said.’
‘That was fair enough. Did he seem satisfied?’
‘I don’t know. Of course, I didn’t mention you’d been paying back some of your wages to Uncle every week. I didn’t think that was necessary,’ said Doris, her head bent over her knitting.
Wickery swallowed hard. ‘What do you know about that?’ he asked hoarsely.
She looked at him then.
‘I’m not a fool, Bert. I’ve known all along you were paying Uncle to keep him quiet about something. I kept the books, don’t forget. You were still getting the same money, but you were giving me less. It wasn’t very difficult to work out.’
‘You never mentioned it,’ he said miserably.
‘I didn’t want to worry you. I’ve only brought it up now because I’m frightened.’ Her voice took on a shriller note. ‘That Inspector is on to something, Bert. He wouldn’t ask questions about your wages unless he thought they had some connection with Uncle’s murder. And I want to know why. Because he’s right, isn’t he? There is some connection?’
He did not answer. He took up the spoon and mechanically began to stir the tea again. Doris put down her knitting and went over to him, kneeling on the floor at his side.
‘
Listen to me, Bert,’ she said desperately. ‘We’re in this together, it’s not fair to keep me in the dark. If there’s trouble I want to know about it. I’ve a right to know.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Doris. Something went wrong, I admit that. But I told you before, it’s not my secret.’
‘Remember the night you came home and told me I’d have to go back to work at the office?’ she asked. ‘Uncle made you do that, didn’t he?’
He nodded.
‘It was that night old Mrs Gooch was killed by a car on the Tanbury road. They never found the driver, did they?’
Something seemed to snap inside his head. He pushed back his chair and sprang up, so that she fell sideways.
‘For God’s sake stow it, Doris! I’ve had just about all I can stand for one day. Stop badgering me, can’t you?’ He stamped across the room and flung himself into the one armchair. ‘Questions, questions, questions! Even at home I don’t get any peace. Why the hell can’t you leave me alone?’
For a few moments she lay where she had fallen. Then she dragged herself wearily to her feet, using the table for support, and went back to the hard chair on which she had been sitting. As his anger died he saw that she was crying, quietly but copiously.
His shame was so great that he could not speak. Then he went over and put his arms round her tear-racked body. She neither welcomed nor repulsed him.
‘I’m sorry, darling,’ he murmured. ‘I don’t know what came over me, I didn’t mean to hurt you. It’s just that — well, anyway, I’m sorry.’
He began to kiss her quietly — her forehead, her cheeks, her wet eyes. Presently she shuddered and clutched his arm.
‘It’s all right,’ she said haltingly. ‘It — it doesn’t matter.’
‘But it does matter,’ he persisted. ‘God knows what made me break out like that. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world — you know that.’
Gently but firmly she pushed his encircling arms away. Then she stood up and faced him. There was no colour in her cheeks, but her eyes were red.
‘I’ll not ask any more questions,’ she said, ‘except one. Bert — did you kill Uncle Andrew?’
