Gun Street Girl

by Mark Timlin

  ‘I’m Sutherland,’ he said. ‘That’s Endesleigh.’ He didn’t mention rank. I took him for an inspector at least. The other copper looked no older than eighteen with a swoop of blond hair that kept falling into his eyes. I imagined he was a D/C on his first biggie. He was dressed in a sharp grey worsted suit with no bagginess at the knees or shininess on the elbows. He was standing at the window looking through a gap in the curtains and turned at the sound of his name. He gave me the once-over and grunted. When he’d seen all he wanted to see, he turned back.

  I said nothing.

  The silence stretched as Sutherland studied me and Endesleigh studied the outside world.

  The older man broke the silence. He was icily polite. As far as he was concerned the formalities were over. Niceties never came into it. ‘Tell us what you know about what happened here tonight,’ he said.

  ‘About as much as you, I imagine,’ I said. ‘Next to nothing.’

  He looked over at the young policeman again, then back to me.

  ‘Tell me anyway,’ he said.

  I told him, right from the beginning. I left out the bits about the death threats, although by then I was sure they existed in some shape or form. I’d save them for later. I told him everything else. It didn’t take long.

  After I’d finished he sat back in his chair and played with the pencil. He thought for a minute or two then leaned forward and spoke. ‘When you took this job on, did you believe that either of the Misses Pikes’ lives were in danger?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So why take the job?’

  ‘I needed the money.’

  ‘That was all?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you thought there was nothing to it?’

  I shrugged. ‘I just thought that Elizabeth was neurotic, her or Catherine, or both, and rich enough to pander to any neuroses they had.’

  ‘But you came prepared.’

  ‘Sorry?’ I said.

  The younger policeman turned away from the window and came over and put my .357 Magnum on the table in front of me. He’d been holding it, hidden from me all the time. It was still in its holster but I imagined that someone had unloaded it. I had known that if anyone good went through the room they’d find it. These guys were good, it was their job. The younger man was careful not to scratch the lustre of the table. That was his job too.

  Sutherland shook his head as if in disbelief. ‘You’re in trouble,’ he said. ‘I think we should lock you up.’ The Browning on my ankle felt as big as a tree stump. He was right, I was in trouble.

  ‘Aren’t we being a bit hasty?’ asked Endesleigh. Sutherland and I both looked at him.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Sutherland. As if he didn’t know and they hadn’t worked this little sketch out while I was cooling my heels in the basement.

  ‘Mr Sharman’s in trouble, as you rightly say,’ said Endesleigh. ‘But he could help us and get himself out of trouble.’

  ‘Help us? How? He’s nothing, a fucking dog-washer,’ said Sutherland.

  Endesleigh looked pained. ‘Aren’t you being a bit hard on him? He used to be in the job. He knows what we want to know and the people here seem to trust him.’

  ‘Trust him!’ said Sutherland. ‘I wouldn’t trust him to tell me the right time.’

  ‘What have we got to lose? We’ve got the gun and we can bang him up any time.’

  Put like that, it made sense, but Sutherland made a show of holding his brow like it was a big decision. I knew it was a foregone conclusion. They’d got me by the nuts and we all knew it.

  ‘Okay,’ said Sutherland at length. ‘But it’s on your head and your responsibility.’

  Neatly done, I thought. Divide the opposition and give me a mate to spill my heart out to. A bit of psychology never hurt anyone.

  ‘Right, Mr Sharman,’ said Sutherland. ‘We’re going to give you a break, but remember you’d better be a good boy or we’ll have you round the nick before your feet touch the ground, understand?’

  I understood all right. I nodded and the atmosphere in the room relaxed a little, but only a little.

  Endesleigh played good cop. He sighed like a man being kept from a comfortable bed. ‘Unpleasant business, this,’ he said.

  ‘Tell that to Leee,’ I said.

  ‘Clive,’ said Sutherland.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Clive Simpson was his name,’ he explained. ‘Clive Simpson from Honor Oak. That’s the name on his birth certificate. The local boys have been to see his mother.’

  ‘You were quick.’

  ‘Sometimes, Mr Sharman, sometimes. His flatmate was at home and we got his mother’s address. Changed his name by deed poll to Leee Monroe. Apparently Marilyn Monroe was his favourite film star.’

  ‘It’s a free country,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not disputing that. Bit of a funny boy, wouldn’t you say? You knowing him and all.’

  ‘I met him twice,’ I said.

  ‘But you had his card in your drawer upstairs.’

  They had been thorough.

  ‘He gave it to me when we met for the first time the night before last. Lots of people give me their cards.’

  ‘I’m sure they do. But it’s a coincidence that he gave you his two days ago, and now he’s dead, wouldn’t you say? Fancied a new hairstyle, did you? Or was he your dope dealer? We found all sorts in his handbag. Coke, dope, uppers, sleepers.’

  ‘Neither. He knew a lot about this family. I was going to pick his brains.’

  ‘They’re all over the conservatory floor,’ said Sutherland. ‘Pick away.’

  ‘Not funny. He was all right.’

  ‘So who killed him?’ asked Endesleigh.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Someone who thought that Leee was Catherine, I suppose.’

  ‘Did you know about all this dressing up business?’ asked Endesleigh.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Catherine Pike kept you right in the picture then?’ said Sutherland.

  ‘It’s hardly something you drop casually into the conversation. It was a joke, a gag.’

  Endesleigh looked at me. ‘It went wrong, didn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Especially for Leee.’

  ‘It could have been suicide,’ said Sutherland.

  ‘You don’t commit suicide when you’re getting a flower for your hair,’ I said, ‘and if you’ve spent all evening getting tarted up like a dog’s breakfast, and you’re looking to make a big entrance like he was. I don’t see you suddenly getting a fatal attack of the guilts about your life style or not being able to pay the gas bill and knocking down all that safety mesh and doing the big jump.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know about that,’ said Sutherland. ‘Must be funny,’ he went on, ‘strapping your bollocks up like that. They pull them right tight up their arseholes, apparently.’

  ‘And you would know about that.’

  ‘Don’t be fucking clever, Sharman,’ Sutherland growled. ‘Let’s go through it all again, now you’re on our side, so to speak. And I warn you, if I find out you’re holding anything back I’ll process you myself and enjoy every minute of it.’

  I think he meant it too. I loosened my tie. ‘I don’t know much,’ I said. ‘Just what I’ve been told, really. I’ve only been here for a couple of days.’

  ‘Then tell us what you do know,’ said Sutherland.

  I went through the whole story again. I still didn’t tell them about the death threats. I wanted to speak to Elizabeth and Catherine first.

  ‘So the old man’s dead, and the will’s up in the air, and the future of the whole company is in jeopardy. And we’re not talking about a corner shop here,’ said Sutherland. ‘And then some silly little poof, all dressed up like the girl who’s caused all the fuss, is killed, murdered. Very confusing.’

  I couldn’t have agreed more.

  ‘And who’s right in the middle of it,’ he went on, ‘but you, Sharman. And from what I know, where you go, trouble follows.’


  ‘Just trying to earn a crust, guv.’

  He looked around the dining room, and by so doing took in the whole house. ‘You’ll get more than a crust here,’ he said. ‘So Mister ex-detective constable, what do you think?’

  ‘It was a suicide?’ I said. ‘Robert Pike’s, I mean. There’s no doubt about that, is there?’

  Sutherland looked at Endesleigh. Endesleigh looked back and said, ‘As far as we know. Open and shut, as the saying goes.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Give me a chance to find out. Have you spoken to anyone else tonight?’

  ‘We’ve had words with a few people, including Elizabeth Pike, and we’re off to see the other one after we’ve finished with you.’

  ‘Don’t leave it too late.’

  ‘We’ve got all night.’

  ‘She hasn’t, she’s had a nasty shock.’

  ‘Not as nasty as Simpson had.’

  You couldn’t argue with that. ‘I suppose with all this,’ it was my turn to look round the room, ‘and with the people involved, this will be a priority case.’

  ‘You could say that,’ said Sutherland.

  ‘So they’ll be bringing in the big guns in the morning,’ I said.

  ‘Maybe. That’s why we need a quick result.’

  ‘Or a mole in the house.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘Don’t tell your guv’nors who it is or they might not agree.’

  They chewed that one over for a bit, ate it up and spat it out. Then Sutherland came from another angle. ‘Who was in the conservatory when Simpson came through the roof?’

  ‘I’ve already told you.’

  ‘Tell us again.’

  ‘Me, Elizabeth, Vincent, he’s the chauffeur. Miranda, she’s one of the maids. The geezer I was holding against the wall – Curtis. And a bunch of other people I could point to. I don’t know their names. Fontaine was one, and the girl he was with.’

  ‘What was the fight about?’ asked Sutherland.

  ‘Curtis was giving Elizabeth Pike a hard time. Technically it was an assault. I just evened things up a bit.’

  ‘He says you jumped him from behind, and technically you assaulted him.’

  ‘Police training,’ I said. ‘And somehow I don’t think he’ll be pressing charges.’

  ‘Don’t be funny, Sharman,’ said Endesleigh. ‘You’re a long way from being out of the woods yet, remember.’

  I remembered the Browning and shut up.

  ‘Were the other members of the family there?’ Sutherland again.

  ‘I didn’t see them. They were there earlier. Ask Elizabeth, she might remember.’

  ‘We did, she didn’t. We’ll get around to everyone else in the morning. What we want you to do is nose around. Make yourself busy. We’ll keep in close touch. We want this cleared up quickly. It doesn’t look good on the sheet.’

  Endesleigh pulled an oblong of pasteboard from his breast pocket. He picked up the pencil from the table and wrote something on the back. He handed the card to me.

  ‘Here’s another card for your collection,’ he said. ‘Don’t leave this one lying around.’

  I looked at him, then the older man, then the card. I couldn’t believe what I was reading, and I looked at Endesleigh again. I could still swear he was no more than a kid. ‘Detective Inspector,’ I said.

  ‘That’s right. This is Sergeant Sutherland.’

  ‘But I thought – ’

  ‘Don’t think, Sharman,’ said Endesleigh. I remembered that Elizabeth had said something similar when I’d last spoken to her. It seemed to be the way the whole case was going.

  ‘That’s good,’ I said. ‘I like that. Clever. Puts people off their stroke.’

  ‘It does, doesn’t it?’ said Endesleigh. ‘You can go now.’

  ‘What about my gun?’

  ‘We’ll look after that for you. A hostage to fortune, as it were. Don’t worry, we’ll keep it oiled.’

  ‘Cheers,’ I said.

  ‘Goodnight, Sharman,’ said the detective inspector. ‘Sleep tight.’

  I thought about Leee coming through the glass roof of the conservatory with a bang that almost made my heart stop, and the blood that was bright orange under the lights, and the bits of him all over the floor and I doubted that I would.

  ‘’Night,’ I said, and got up and left.

  Miranda was sitting on a chair outside the dining room and the young copper who had been looking after me was trying to look up her skirt. She had been crying and had a handful of wet tissue. ‘Hello, Miranda,’ I said.

  ‘Hello, Mr Sharman. I’ve got to talk to the policeman. I’m scared.’

  ‘Don’t be, they’re all right and there’ll be a policewoman in with you.’

  ‘Yes, I know, I’ve been talking to her. She’s nice. She’s gone off to make some tea.’

  ‘Great, you’ve got nothing to worry about then.’

  ‘It was horrible, Mr Sharman. I can’t stop thinking about it.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I thought it was Miss Catherine.’

  ‘I know,’ I said again. ‘I’ll tell her you asked after her if you don’t see her first.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Miranda said. ‘She’ll be busy.’

  ‘Not that busy.’

  ‘I mean she’ll be upset. That Leee was funny, they loved each other, you know.’

  ‘I know.’ She started crying again.

  ‘Have you got a handkerchief, Constable?’ I asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Find some tissues, will you?’

  ‘I’m not bloody “Boots”.’

  I looked him up and down but before I could give him any verbal a young policewoman came round the corner from the direction of the stairs to the kitchen with a tray of tea things. ‘Got any tissues?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes, in my bag. I’ll look after Miranda.’

  ‘I’m going upstairs. Will you get Miranda to bed soon, Miss? Try and keep them in there on a lead,’ I said to the policewoman.

  She smiled. ‘I will,’ she said. See, not all coppers are bastards.

  I went upstairs using the lift. The sergeant I’d met earlier was outside Catherine’s door. ‘You can’t go in,’ he said. ‘The doctor is in there. But don’t worry, there’ll be someone here all night.’

  ‘That’s good. Are her windows locked?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Goodnight then, Sergeant. See you in the morning.’

  ‘Not me, sir. I’m off duty in an hour but someone will take over.’

  ‘Fine,’ I said and went into my room.

  13

  I undressed and took off the Browning. I put it in the drawer of the bedside table with my watch. It was ten to one when I climbed into bed and, despite what I thought, I did sleep straight away. I was bone tired after two days of drinking and being hungover.

  I came to when someone slapped me in the face and kept slapping. There was a bright light in my eyes and at first I thought the police had come back and decided to change their tactics and bring the rubber hoses. I struggled to sit up and got pushed back onto the mattress hard. Someone had turned the bedside lamp shade round and the bulb was shining straight into my face. I remember saying something bright like ‘What?’ or ‘Who?’ but another slap shut me up and I lay still and tried to focus on what was going on.

  I was on the bed covered with a single sheet and dressed just in shorts. The room was dark and I had no way of knowing what time it was, whether it was still dark outside or whether the curtains had been closed against daylight. There were at least two other people in the room with me. In the bleed of light from the bulb I could make out their shadowy figures. One was sitting in a chair drawn up close to the lefthand side of the bed, the second was standing on the other side of the bed close enough for me to hear him breathe. I guessed it was him who had been slapping. The light reflected onto an automatic pistol with a long, vented silencer screwed onto the muzzle that the seated man held in his ha
nd. The gun was cocked. The hand holding it was wearing a black, shiny glove which met a striped shirt cuff emerging from a dark sleeve, almost completely covering the gold bracelet of a wrist watch.

  I lay still and felt my heart hammering in my rib cage.

  ‘Don’t make a sound,’ said a voice from the other side of the room. It didn’t come from either of the men beside the bed. Three then. The voice had a Cockney accent. No, not real Cockney. Australian, that was it. I wasn’t surprised. I squinted into the light but all the faces were invisible in the shadows. ‘Bit early for trick or treat,’ I said. My mouth was dry and I licked at my lips.

  ‘Funny man,’ said the standing figure beside the bed. He had an Australian accent too.

  ‘We’ve come to give you a message to pass on to Catherine Pike,’ said the man with the gun.

  ‘And a message for yourself,’ said the man standing by my bed.

  I said nothing.

  The sitting man spoke again. ‘Tell her that she owes us what we agreed. We had a deal and she’s reneging. We don’t like that.’

  I could feel sweat running off my body and dampening the sheets.

  ‘And as for you,’ the standing man said, ‘you’re in the way. This thing is nothing to do with you. Give her the message and go home. You’re playing in the wrong ball park.’

  I licked my lips again. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said.

  ‘We don’t expect you to. Just pass on the message and get lost.’

  The man in the chair brought the gun up and pointed it into my face. I instinctively pushed the back of my head deeper into the pillow. ‘I was all for killing you now,’ he said. ‘But calmer heads prevailed. I won’t listen next time.’