Pick Up the Pieces

by J F Straker

  The pencilled NO was unmistakable. ‘Satisfied?’ asked her husband.

  Doris nodded.

  ‘Good. Better put them back where we found them, then.’

  She knew he was probably right, but now that she had them she could not bear to be parted from them. She took an envelope from her pocket.

  ‘I’d rather keep them, Bert, if you don’t mind. I don’t suppose the police will take much notice of them, but at least they’re safer with me.’

  It was nearly midday when they found the piece of paper dropped by Dave Chitty. It was not torn, as Bert’s had been, not even crumpled. It might have been placed there carefully, on purpose — or it might have fluttered there gently and slowly, dropped by a nervous hand. It had been slightly stained by the weather, but the pencilled YES was not obliterated.

  ‘So I was right,’ Wickery exulted. ‘It was Dave.’

  Doris stared at it thoughtfully. ‘I suppose it’s the right piece of paper,’ she said.

  ‘Of course it is. There’s no mistaking Harry’s writing.’

  ‘No. But doesn’t it seem odd that Dave should have dropped it like that, without crumpling it up first?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. It probably gave him quite a jolt when he read it, and he just let it slip out of his fingers.’ He stopped. ‘No, that’s unlikely, too. Dave wouldn’t be scared, he was all blood and thunder before the job.’

  Doris shook her head.

  ‘Thunder, perhaps, but not blood. Dave talked big, but I always thought he was a bit of a coward. Yes, I believe you’re right, Bert — he was scared.’

  ‘He didn’t strike me that way,’ Wickery said doubtfully. ‘And if he was scared why did he kill White? That was his idea, not ours.’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps Uncle Andrew woke up and Dave got frightened and —’ She shuddered. ‘Let’s look for the other pieces.’

  ‘But why? Isn’t that enough?’

  ‘It should be,’ she admitted. ‘But somehow —well, I’d just like to see the others. To make sure.’

  The path which led from the garage to the Forthright cottage was not concealed from the road. ‘Anyone can see us,’ Wickery objected nervously, as they began their search. ‘They’ll wonder what we’re up to.’

  Doris took no heed. Even the further suggestion that Harry himself might be watching did not deter her. ‘We can say we’re having another look for the glass from Dave’s spectacles,’ she said.

  But they found no more pieces of paper, neither there nor on the track taken by Wells.

  ‘What next?’ asked Wickery, as they stood together at the back of the garage. Now that he had this new evidence, and with Doris to help him, he felt a different man. His voice was almost cheerful.

  But the morning’s search had not altered Doris’s outlook as it had his. ‘Go to the police and tell them everything,’ she said firmly. It’s the only thing to do.’

  ‘But good heavens, Doris, why? Now that we know Dave is guilty there’s no need to tell them the whole truth; we can do as the Inspector suggested. Why ask for trouble?’

  ‘It’s not a question of need, it’s what’s right that matters,’ she snapped, weary of his arguments, tired physically and mentally. ‘And do you think the Chittys will keep silent when you give evidence against Dave? Of course they won’t. You do as I say, Bert, and tell the police the truth. Otherwise — well, I will.’

  Her reference to the Chittys almost convinced him, but he was not yet ready to admit defeat. ‘I must speak to the others first,’ he hedged. ‘It wouldn’t be right not to let them know.’

  ‘You’re a fool if you do — they’ll only try to dissuade you. But remember, Bert, I’m serious about going to the police. Dead serious. So it’s up to you.’

  She walked away without waiting for his answer. He watched her until she left the road and disappeared behind the hedge that bordered the field. Had she looked back, had she given the least sign that she wanted his company, he might have followed her. But she did not, and he turned and walked slowly along the path to the cottage.

  Wells was there with Forthright. ‘This place is becoming a sort of club,’ the latter said when Wickery entered. ‘What’s up with you, Bert?’

  Wickery told him. Not the whole of it, for he feared the older man’s wrath if he were to learn that Doris had been made a confidante. He said he had found the piece of paper that Chitty had dropped, so that now there could no longer be any doubt of his guilt. ‘We can go ahead with a clear conscience, Harry,’ he said, not looking at Wells. ‘Do what the Inspector suggested, I mean. It’s either that or the truth.’

  ‘It’s my neck I’m worried about, not my conscience,’ growled Forthright. ‘Let’s see this bit of paper.’

  That shook him.

  ‘I gave it to Doris,’ he said; and added hastily, ‘It’s all right, she doesn’t know what it’s about. I just asked her to look after it.’

  ‘You keep Doris out of this; there’s enough ruddy women mucking up the works without her. As for knuckling under to the police — not me, mate. Not as long as there’s another way out.’

  ‘But what other way is there?’

  ‘Loften.’ Wells said succinctly.

  So we’re back on that lark, are we? Wickery thought. ‘You won’t get around Susan, you fools,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ Forthright admitted. ‘Pop’s tried that. But she’ll have to admit that Loften was up at the garage that night, and that’s all we need. Anything else she says we can discredit by stressing that Loften was her lover, that she’s trying to shield him. Dave’ll back us up — he’ll probably invent a few savoury morsels for the jury if we put it to him.’

  Wells nodded agreement, licking his lips. But Wickery was filled with disgust.

  ‘What a filthy thing to do!’ he said angrily. ‘You’ve sunk pretty low, Harry, if you can do that to a decent girl like Susan.’

  Forthright flushed.

  ‘I don’t like it any more than you do,’ he said, ‘But I can’t afford to be squeamish. I’ve got Ma to think of. How will she make out if they shove me in gaol?’

  ‘I don’t know and I don’t care. And you can drop any idea of getting Loften and Susan involved in this, because I won’t have it. Dave killed White, and if anyone swings for it it’s going to be him. I’ll see to that.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘By telling the truth, that’s how. And if I don’t Doris will, so you might as well get used to the idea.’

  It was not until after he had spoken that he realized what he had done. Even then he did not greatly care — they’d have to know sooner or later.

  Forthright stepped closer to him, his bullet head thrust forward.

  ‘So Doris knows, does she? You were lying when you said you hadn’t told her?’ Wickery did not flinch.

  ‘Yes, I was lying. But there’s been a damned sight too much lying in the past, and from now on I’m telling the truth.’ He did not wish to antagonize them unnecessarily, and in a quieter tone he added, ‘I’m sorry, Harry — but I know I’m right. And in any case there’s no alternative now. Doris really meant it when she said she’d go to the police, and it’s better if it comes from us.’

  Neither of the other two spoke, neither of them moved. For a moment Wickery hesitated, uncertain.

  ‘Like that, is it?’ he said eventually. ‘Well, I’m off.’

  Forthright moved swiftly, barring his way.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ he said, his teeth bared, close together. ‘First thing you’ve got to do is go home and knock some sense into Doris’s head.’

  ‘You leave Doris out of this.’

  ‘Leave her out, eh? And who the hell brought her into it in the first place, I’d like to know? You do what I say, mate. Go back home and tan the hide off her, the ruddy, interfering little bitch. And if you won’t then I’ll damned well do it for you.’

  Wickery hit him — a glancing blow on the cheek. His rage blinded him to the fact that he was no match for the older man, d
espite his advantage in height. But luck was with him. Forthright hit him in the eye with a straight left, but as he followed this up with a swinging right Wells, frightened, caught at his jacket and threw him off balance. Wickery ducked, and Forthright, unable to stop himself, tripped over a chair and fell heavily.

  Wickery watched him for a moment, rubbing his eye. The fallen man had hit his head against the wall and was temporarily stunned; but as he opened his eyes, shook his head vigorously, and, swearing profanely, began struggling to his feet Wickery decided it was time to leave. Pushing aside the protesting Wells, he ran out of the room and out of the cottage.

  ‘You’re a fine help, you are,’ said Forthright, rubbing the back of his head. ‘Why the hell did you have to interfere?’

  ‘I didn’t want a fight. We ought to be able to settle it without that.’

  ‘Bert’ll settle it all right, blast him!’ ‘Do you think we ought to go after him, Harry?’

  ‘What’s the use? Short of murder, there’s no way of stopping him now.’

  Wells winced. He didn’t like the way Harry said that.

  ‘We can’t just wait for the police to arrest us,’ he protested. ‘We must do something.’

  ‘Such as what? There’s nothing we can do, unless —’ Forthright paused. ‘You clear off home, Pop; I want to think. And keep your mouth shut if the cops pick you up —tell ‘em you’re saying nothing till you’ve seen a lawyer. I’ll find a way to beat ‘em yet, Bert or no Bert.’

  12 Death in the Forest

  Inspector Pitt rattled a pencil thoughtfully between his teeth as he looked long and searchingly at his visitor. Then he took the pencil from his mouth, laid it carefully and exactly along the centre of the big blotter, and leaned forward across the desk.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me all this on Wednesday morning, Mr Wickery?’ he asked sternly.

  ‘It would have gone pretty bad with us if I had, wouldn’t it?’ Wickery felt good, better than he had felt for what seemed like almost a lifetime. It had been so easy; no interruptions, no awkward questions. He had been allowed to tell his story in his own way and at his own pace. And although he knew that the questions must come he felt confident that he could deal with them now that he was sticking to the truth. Unless they got on to the subject of Mrs Gooch. He hadn’t mentioned her.

  ‘And what makes you think it won’t go bad with you now?’

  ‘Well, it’s different, isn’t it? We know now that it was Dave killed White. And then there’s his sister — she can tell you we never planned it that way, that we only meant to get back the money White owed us.’

  ‘How did White come to owe you this money?’

  But Wickery was not as yet prepared to answer that. Later, perhaps, when he had seen a lawyer, and if the latter considered it necessary.

  ‘How about the others?’ asked Pitt. ‘Are they willing to confirm your statement?’

  Wickery shook his head.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I tried to persuade them to see it my way’ — here the Inspector’s glance rested on the other’s swollen right eye and he nodded understandingly — ‘but they’re a bit suspicious. They think maybe you’ll go back on the offer you made yesterday.’

  ‘I made no offer,’ Pitt said sharply. ‘Don’t you try to pull that one.’

  Wickery hastily assured him that he didn’t intend to pull anything. All he meant was that the others thought the police might not be quite so willing to accept the fact that they were innocent of murder once they had confessed to a plan to break into the garage.

  ‘Depends on the evidence,’ Pitt said gruffly. ‘For instance, why all the elaborate precautions for secrecy among yourselves?’

  ‘I don’t know. It seemed a good idea at the time. We weren’t too sure of each other, I suppose.’

  ‘Sounds daft to me,’ was the Inspector’s blunt verdict. ‘How about Chitty’s spectacles? Where did he break those?’

  ‘Not on his way home, anyway,’ said Wickery. ‘They were broken before we got back to the cottage.’ He explained how Chitty had fallen, and how on the next day they had been unable to find a trace of broken glass on the path. ‘He never would say how it happened. We thought it must have been in White’s room, which was why he flew off the handle when we mentioned it to him.’

  Inspector Pitt frowned. ‘Not there,’ he said, and stood up. ‘Well, let’s get along to the garage. I’ll have another car pick your wife up and meet us there.’

  ‘Am I under arrest?’

  ‘You’re being held in custody — for the present.’

  The news of her husband’s confession came as a shock to Doris, despite the fact that she had prompted it. She had not really believed that he would go to the police, was not even certain that she could force herself to carry out her threat to do so if he refused. But she felt no regret at spurring him to this action. The months of uncertainty and fear had been as harassing for her as they had been for him, and she was glad that they were over.

  Bert was at the garage when she got there, and she smiled at him, trying to convey her approval of what he had done wondering, too, when she had last given him a kind look or a kind word. The Inspector was there, and a number of other policemen, and Loften arrived shortly after to open the garage for them. There was no sign of Wells or Forthright.

  At Pitt’s request she gave him the pieces of paper they had picked up in the forest. He showed little interest in the fragments that Bert had claimed to be his, but the uncreased YES that they knew had been drawn by Dave Chitty obviously puzzled him. Doris wondered whether he had the same doubts about it as she had had. If only he would give her the chance she would expound her own theory.

  But the Inspector put the paper away, and they went out of the garage for Wickery to show them where the four of them had stood that Tuesday night. Loften tried to follow, curious as to what was going on, but was turned back by a constable. He was not in sight when they were brought back to the garage to await the Inspector’s pleasure.

  There was little they had to say to each other that was not private, and the presence of a constable forbade privacy. Doris wondered if this was the last time she and Bert would be together, and the awful thought kept nagging at her that her passion for the truth might cost her husband his life. With that in her mind it was dreadful to have to sit together and say nothing, and she was glad when the arrival of Pop Wells created a small diversion. Despite her knowledge of what he had done she smiled at him. He nodded curtly in reply, and the look he gave Bert showed that he was in no friendly mood.

  It seemed hours before the Inspector returned. As he sat on the edge of the desk firing questions at Wells — questions which the latter stubbornly refused to answer — he had something in his hand which he kept tossing into the air and catching, something that glistened in the weak sunlight. The continuous movement got on Doris’s already strained nerves, so that eventually she could not refrain from interrupting him.

  ‘What is that you’re playing with, Inspector?’

  He looked down at it, still for a moment in the palm of his hand. ‘That? Just a piece of glass, Mrs Wickery.’

  The glass began to dance again as he turned once more to Wells. Doris made no comment, but for her husband the word ‘glass’ had a special significance.

  ‘Do you mean — is it a piece of Dave’s specs, the ones he broke?’ he asked.

  ‘It could be, Mr Wickery. I’m only a policeman, however, and I fancy we’ll need an optician to tell us that.’

  His tone was of bored and suffering politeness, but it did not deceive Doris. He’s on to something, she thought, and he doesn’t want us to know it.

  ‘Where did you find it, Inspector?’ Wickery persisted.

  This time the voice was not so polite. ‘Suppose I ask the questions and you confine yourself to the answers?’ snapped Pitt. ‘We’ll get along better that way.’

  But they did not get along better. There was nothing more to be got from the Wickerys, and Wells
remained obstinately mute. When two detectives returned to say that Forthright was not at the cottage Pitt looked almost relieved at the need for action.

  ‘Probably gone to earth in the forest,’ he said. ‘Well, let’s try and winkle him out.’

  *

  Forthright knew it would not be long before they came for him, but at least he had a small margin of time. Even if Bert did not go to Tanbury, but telephoned the police from the village call-box, they could not act at once. Half an hour, perhaps — not more. Well, it would do.

  He ate a hurried meal, took food up to his mother, and, after telling her that he had to go out, that he might not be back until late but that she was not to worry, he ran down the road to a neighbour. To him he explained that he had to go away, that he might not be back that night, and would the neighbour’s wife be kind enough to keep an eye on Ma?

  Then he made for the forest. He did not go far. He found a vantage-point from which he could watch the road and the garage, and sat down to unravel the tangle that was his mind.

  The forest held a fascination for Forthright that he recognized but could not explain, and he knew it as he knew his own garden. Since boyhood he had roamed its tracks, penetrated into every dense clump of tree and bush, climbed every ridge, and explored every gully. Now, he thought, this knowledge was to do him good service. The police would not find him in the forest — there were hiding-places that only he knew of and where even in winter a man could lie hid for days.

  But in his case it would serve no purpose to lie hid. Unless he acted quickly Pop and Dave might think he had deserted them, they might even follow Bert’s example and confess for want of an alternative. He had to act at once or not at all; but the devil of it was, he couldn’t make up his mind how to act. The inventive genius on which he had prided himself seemed to have deserted him, and the close pressure of time and the need to keep a sharp look-out were no aids to clear thinking.

  Who would the police believe, he wondered, if the rest of them denied Bert’s confession and offered Loften in exchange? Bert had Susan to support him, but Susan threatened no danger if they were prepared to admit that there had been a plan to rob the garage and that they had then discarded it. Besides, they intended to discredit Susan, to implicate her with Loften.