“It came over me all sudden like,” she said slowly. “I knew I didn’t ought, but I couldn’t think of anything but you coming to take Bailey away again, and us so happy here and comfortable and all. You don’t know what it’s like, being on the streets. My mother was, and so I had to be, because if I got a job she turned up drunk and took me off of it, and she made me go with men while I was still just a kid like, because, you see, men pay more then. It’s not their fault, it’s the way they are, but it’s hard on you when you’re a kid and you get thrashed if you don’t want. Only it’s all somehow different when there’s a man what wants you—I mean, you, your own self, and it gets so you’re like one together, and what’s for one’s for both. He had just come out when me and him met. I hadn’t anywhere to go because of being turned out, and he hadn’t either. But I knew a doorway where there was a sort of turning inside it, so the cops weren’t so likely to spot you, but he was there first. I said to him to get out, because I knew it before he did, and he told me to get out, and get out quick, or he’d bash me proper. So I said wasn’t there room for two, and he said that was all right if I was down on my luck, and after that somehow we stuck it out together. He hadn’t had his ticket long, and at first he reported regular, but there was a smash and grab, and the cops thought it was him as had tipped them off and so it was, and he got a pound note for it. Proper scared he was after the cops had been at him; and proper scared I was, along of thinking of being all on my own again, if he got sent back. I made him promise he wouldn’t ever again, and I burned the pound note and I took a shilling we had left of our proper own, and I bought a Bible, and we promised on our bended knees, kissing the book on it, that we never would again, either of us, and we never have.” She went to one of the dresser drawers and took out an old illustrated Bible. “I like the pictures,” she said abruptly, “it makes you feel it’s real.” She went on: “It’s brought us luck, and every night he reads a bit whether we can understand it or not.” She put the book back in its place and shut the drawer. “It’s brought us luck,” she repeated. “There was a gentleman crossing the road, and a taxi came and near knocked him down, but Bailey pulled him back just in time. So the gentleman said he was much obliged, and he said did Bailey want a job, only not in London, and Bailey said as he wasn’t so set on London as all that, and the gentleman said come and see him, and he went, and I told him not to let on as he had been inside. So he didn’t, and the gentleman gave him this job, and we came here, and I said if he went to the cops with his ticket, same as he ought, then everyone would know, and we should lose the job. So he never did, and it’s a good wage and no rent, and all we can grow in the garden like, so there’s nothing we want for, and we wouldn’t change places with the king and queen in their golden crowns, we wouldn’t. But then you came, and Bailey knew you soon as he saw you, but he thought you didn’t him, because you didn’t say nothing, only he said he would keep out of your way in case it came to you. So when I saw you come to-day I knew it had; and it was more than I could bear, especial when you said that about its being jolly here, and you come to take it from me. And I thought, too, if me and you were both corpses, nobody wouldn’t bother so much about Bailey, and he might have time to get away and not have to go back inside. But I’m sorry now,” she said humbly.
“So you ought to be,” said Bobby, still severe. “Jolly good job there’s no harm done and we can forget all about it. And for God’s sake,” he added irritably, “don’t start howling again.”
There was a sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Bailey came into the room. He stood, looking at Bobby for a moment or two. Then he said:
“I thought it must be you. I knew you would be sure to come back.”
“Well, if you have been expecting me,” Bobby retorted, “I hope you’ve been a bit sensible about it, and not been working yourself into a state of excitement like your wife. Why, she was so nervous that when she started out to make me some tea, she dropped the teapot in the fire. That’s the worst of women,” Bobby complained. “They will fuss.”
CHAPTER XXV
LADYLIKE
Bailey still looked suspiciously from his wife to Bobby and back, and then round the kitchen, not yet fully restored to its pristine, cheerful brightness. A dull red glow began to glimmer in his small, close-set eyes, his open hands lifted into closed, menacing fists. He said slowly:
“Been bullying her, eh, and me not here.”
“Shut your trap, you great goom, or I’ll shut it for you,” said Mrs. Bailey, quite without heat, but very much as if she meant it.
“I asked for it, and I done it, and I’m ready,” Bailey went on, taking no notice of this, “but you leave her out. See? She ain’t nothing to do with it.”
“I wonder,” Bobby asked pathetically, “if I shall ever get a chance to put in a word edgeways to tell you what I do want?”
“There’s no cause to tell, seeing as we know,” Bailey answered, “seeing as it’s what I’ve been waiting for ever since that first time you was here and I knew you knew me again.”
“Oh, very likely you knew I knew you,” Bobby agreed, “but all the same you knew wrong. Quite common. Plenty of people are always knowing they know, but don’t know they know wrong. All I knew then was that you knew me, and, of course, I could make a guess why. So now, if it’s quite the same to you and your wife, perhaps the two of you will be so good as to let me explain why I am here, and what I do want, instead of your telling me. A change,” said Bobby with deep sarcasm, “if you’ll listen for once instead of doing all the talking. I haven’t said a word to anyone about what I guessed about you, even though I got a hint afterwards that made me fairly sure my guess was a good one. I didn’t say anything to Mrs. Bailey even. I wasn’t sure if she knew you had done time, and if she didn’t know—well, that was between you and her and no affair of mine. She has told me she did know, and she has told me how it is you happen to be here. Now I want to hear your side of it. I want you to tell me everything that has happened recently.”
But Bailey had no power of narrative. He seemed willing enough, but to begin at the beginning, to keep to one point, to preserve a consecutive order of events, to make sure that each clause was clearly related to each, each pronoun in correct reference to its principal, all that was a task far beyond his power. Bobby, not without experience and skill in unravelling the tangled tales of those little practised in expression, would in time, no doubt, have gathered a fair idea of recent events as known at Nonpareil lodge. But it would have taken time. He was relieved when Mrs. Bailey interposed, for she had given proof that she could tell a plain, straightforward story.
“You’re getting all tangled up,” she exclaimed impatiently, as Bailey struggled haltingly to find words. “Let me.”
Bailey looked relieved. Bobby looked acquiescent. She continued: “I mind it well, for I had only been thinking that very morning as it was too good to last, and it couldn’t ever go on like it was, not in this world, me and him together and nothing left to want. Two weeks ago it was, as he come in for his tea and I saw he was worried like, and I said what was it, and he said a bloke he didn’t know had come by and stood to watch him working in the garden, and then had called him by the name he had when he was—there. Bailey, he didn’t know him, and he didn’t let on or answer, but he said as how he was afeared it must be some bloke as had been—there. Been in at the same time and remembered. So then I knew the good times were over, and one of them as Bailey knew before was come to fetch him back again. Bailey said he never would, and he read a piece from the Bible, but it was one of them awful hard bits, and no comfort in it, and we weren’t none the better for it, not till we went down on our bended knees, same as before, and swore like we did that other time and kissed the book after, him first and then me. When it was dark the chap came knocking, and he called Bailey by his name and number what they gave him—there—and said as would Bailey join in a first-class, slap-up, easy job they had on, money for jam it was. So Bailey said to go to he
ll, and the chap said had Bailey turned pious, and Bailey went for him, and you can’t wonder, no man as was a man being liable to take such as that lying down. I got the slop pail, and emptied it on ’em both equal like, and that parted ’em, and then I grabbed the pan what the ’taters for our supper was boiling in, and I swore to God I would let the first as lifted hand again have it full. That stopped ’em, for they knew I meant it, and a pan of boiling ’taters isn’t what anyone would go asking for, not in a manner of speaking no one wouldn’t. The chap cursed a bit, but I rubbed him down where the slops had gone, and I gave him our last beer, and he sort of admitted I had only acted ladylike same as any lady what was a lady did ought and couldn’t help. He said there wasn’t nothing neither for pals to fall out over. All he asked was to be let sleep in Nonpareil now and then, same being empty, and so no harm to none, and him having business up here, but not wanting the cops to rumble it he was around. He said if we couldn’t do a little thing like that for an old pal, it was doing the dirty, and he would do the dirty on us as well, and tell the cops about us, him having rumbled to it some way Bailey hadn’t reported same as he did ought, or else just guessed that was the way of it. I told him as I would put his light out if he did, but he only grinned, and said as he would know enough to keep out of my way, and if we kept mum about him, so he would about us. But Bailey said he would do what he was paid to do, and that was to look after the house and keep it proper, so the chap went away then, looking proper ugly. We never saw him no more, nor didn’t want.”
“Do you think he did use Nonpareil for sleeping in at any time?” Bobby asked.
“I never saw nothing to show as he did,” Bailey answered, taking up the story. With an obvious effort, he added: “But I didn’t go nosing round. I did my usual, and if I saw anything, then I saw it, and then I reckoned to let on to do same as I was paid for to do. But I didn’t see no call to nose around; and if I didn’t see nothing, then I didn’t, and nothing what I need do about it. Sleeping dogs are best left lie, and I knew if it got to the cops we was done and finished. It’s hard and all,” he said slowly, “when you’re up a bit, to be pulled down again, worse than before, and I knew all right if we was, we wouldn’t ever get up again. It was the rat poison we’ve got was in my mind and her mind, too, if the cops got on to us to send me back. What’s up now?” he asked, puzzled and suspicious, for his wife had cried out at the words ‘rat poison’, and Bobby had looked startled.
“Nothing,” Bobby answered, quickly recovering, “except that I had a look round the Nonpareil cellars the other day and saw rats, so I asked Mrs. Bailey if you never put poison down for them, and I suppose it upset her. That’s all.”
“It’s all lies all of it, what he’s saying,” Mrs. Bailey said, “but I’ll tell you afterwards, and you can hit me a lick or two, if you like, but it was only all along of me, going funny in my head, thinking of you going back and me all on my own again, and another lady here where it had all been mine, and the only place I ever had.”
“The way we thought of was the better way,” Bailey said, “but what’s it to do with him?” He stared at Bobby. “Better than going back,” he said, “and better than being all on your own again.”
“Why the Good God,” Bobby exclaimed with extreme exasperation, “ever made two such outsize fools as the pair of you, no doubt He knows, but I don’t. I suppose the common-sense department was closed when it came to your turn, and so you got none issued, either of you. Not that it’s only you. There are plenty of others who have got it into their thick heads where there ought to be brains but aren’t, that in the police we are so fond of worry and work we go chasing round looking for trouble, looking for excuses to run people in, looking for a chance to spend our time—extra time, unpaid time—hanging about stuffy police courts for hours, waiting to be bullied by magistrates always on the lookout to bite if we’ve gone half an inch too far. Good Lord,” said Bobby, flushed with indignation, “I remember a story or broadcast or something—jolly good and exciting, too, in itself—where the author seemed to believe that when a first offender—a first offender, mark you—is released, we detail a man to tag round and watch him or her day and night. Has the perpetrator of that nonsense any idea of what size staff we should want—or what size the police rate would be jolly soon? Not to mention that it couldn’t be done. Anyone can vanish in London or any big town if they want to, and big odds against us ever finding them again, even working full out. Think of our going to all that trouble for every short term discharge! Fatheadedness could no farther go.”
“I don’t know about that,” Bailey said, blinking both eyes as if slightly dazzled by the lightning of Bobby’s indignation, and indeed not having fully grasped his meaning, “but it’s along of me not having reported, same as it says, and so I’m liable to be sent back.”
“I know, I know,” Bobby repeated, still impatient. “You’ve committed an offence, and more fool you, and now you’re scared, and serve you right. But the object of a ticket-of-leave report is to make sure you’re living a respectable life, doing honest work. Well, so you are, and that’s the main thing. You’re probably down as wanted, though I haven’t bothered to look. The Yard is sure to have made a few inquiries among your old pals in London, and most likely that’s why the chap who called here knew you had failed to report. But so long as you continue to do an honest job honestly, I shan’t think it necessary to take any action, provided you report regularly in future. But you can do it by letter if you like, and no one need know a thing about it. All we shall do is to make sure you’re still on the job, and haven’t got a pal to post the letter for you. So now that I hope we’ve cleared the ground a bit, how about getting down to business? I believe you and your wife have told the truth. If you haven’t, in even the smallest degree, you’ll get what’s coming to you. That’s by way of warning, though I’m pretty sure it’s not needed. I take it you always drew the line at murder. I take it you would be willing to help in a case of murder. Particularly in a case of murder that happened almost on your own doorstep. I remember you both told me once you would do anything you could to help. Well, now’s your chance. I want Mr. Bailey to come to my headquarters in the afternoon for the next few days—three hours each afternoon at half a crown an hour.”
“What to do?” Bailey asked, puzzled and distrustful.
“To sit there, keep your eyes open, tell me at once if you spot anything out of the way. Dull enough. If we can think of anything to give you to do, we will. Whatever it is, it won’t matter much. The real job—and that will matter—will be to say if you notice anything unusual.”
Bailey was still looking very puzzled.
“What sort of thing?” he asked.
“Anything at all, anything out of the way. If you saw the station sergeant standing on his head, that would be something out of the way, wouldn’t it?”
Bailey considered this. Then he said:
“No station sergeant never wouldn’t.”
“Well, what I mean,” Bobby explained, “is anything you would tell your wife about when you got home.”
“I tell her it all,” Bailey said. “She always asks. You tell me what sort of thing and I’ll watch out all right, but if I don’t know, how can I? It ain’t noway fair,” protested Bailey, “to ask a man to do what he don’t know as he has to do.”
Bobby looked rather helplessly at Mrs. Bailey. She said encouragingly:
“That’ll be all right, sir. I’ll see he gets the idea.”
“She’s brainy she is,” Bailey said with pride. “Knows what you mean before you knows it yourself.”
On that note, therefore, the conversation ended, and Bobby retired, hopeful, though not certain, that when Bailey arrived in due course at headquarters he would be fully instructed in what was required of him.
CHAPTER XXVI
EXPECTED
So there the next afternoon was Bailey established at headquarters, quite smart in his Sunday best Mrs. Bailey had insisted on his donning for
the occasion, and a source of considerable curiosity, since no one had the least idea why this stranger had made so sudden an appearance, or what he was supposed to be doing. Nothing much, though, as far as could be seen, and in fact literally nothing, since all he did was to sit with the day’s paper on his knee, but not reading it much, and never speaking, merely looking on at all the routine of an ordinary police headquarters.
Not that many of them troubled much about it. ‘Our Bobby’s got something up his sleeve,’ one or two of them remarked to each other, and that was about all. Even Inspector Payne himself had no idea of what was the reason for this visitor’s appearance, and soon he managed to convey that he was a little hurt by such seeming lack of confidence.
“Oh, well, there’s been a spot of blackmail knocking about,” Bobby explained then. “I want to get to the bottom of it. As a ticket-of-leave man Bailey could be sent back to serve the rest of his term for failing to report. Someone knew it would have meant fairly complete ruin, the loss of his job and his home and his garden that had all come to mean a lot to him, not to mention his wife. I went out of my way to give them a long lecture, though they aren’t the only ones who think we policemen are so fond of work and worry and got so little to do…”
“Did you say: ‘little to do’,” interposed Payne, looking quite bewildered.
“Well, you know, most people think that about other people,” Bobby said, “especially about police, and they think we like to fill up our spare time keeping tabs on everyone who has ever done time. Though you would think they might know better now, considering the number of men with criminal records who have managed to get responsible Government jobs since the war. But most likely that’s just put down to police negligence. And in this case I had a very special reason for rubbing it into Bailey and his wife that we are only keen on spotting old lags when they are at their old games again, and that if they aren’t we are just as keen on leaving them alone.”
There's a Reason for Everything: A Bobby Owen Mystery Page 18
