A Killing Kindness (22 page)

Grudgingly he was admitted. Peckersgill was a  long wiry man with a narrow face and restless  eyes. He was wearing his working clothes - jeans and a white sweat shirt. Wield guessed that he  had arrived home just as Janey was confronting  her brother with the accusation that he'd fingered  Frankie for the whisky job. Given time, she might  have decided not to tell her husband, but she'd  have been unable to miss lashing out at her brother  first. Once Frankie picked up what was going on,  he would have been unstoppable.

'I've just been talking to Ron,' said Wield. 'Oh  yes. No need to look surprised. They called us  right away when they heard what had happened  to him.'

'Heard?
Heard what?'

'That's right, Frankie. I said
heard.
He's been  chatting away as fast as he can through the broken  teeth.'

'What's he say, then?' asked Pickersgill defiantly-

For answer Wield grabbed his wrists, turned the  hands over and struck the bruised and swelling  knuckles together.

'You'll find it hard to hold a steering-wheel,'  he said. 'Still, you probably won't have to for a  while.'

'What the hell are you on about?' demanded  Pickersgill. 'What's all this about Ron, anyway?  I've just got home this minute. I had a bit of an  accident with my hands, that's all.'

'Fell down stairs as well, did you? It doesn't  matter anyway, Frankie. Assault and battery's the  least of your troubles, son.'

Pickersgill tried to pull his hands away but  Wield's grip was unbreakable.

'That's right, Frankie. Ron's gone all the way.  You didn't think he wouldn't, did you? I mean, he's done it once, hasn't he, so why not again? So  now there's just our Janey to alibi you and you  know what her word's worth after last time.'

Pickersgill's reaction was not what he'd expected. Incredulity first, then simple bewilderment, then something not far off amusement.

'You're telling me he says it was me that got  into Spinks's warehouse?' he said. 'You want me  to believe he's got the nerve to try that? You'll  have to do a lot better than that, Mr Wield!'

I shall indeed, thought Wield, trying desperately to interpret this unforeseen turn. I shall  indeed.

And he did. It was stupidly simple.

'It's the other way round, isn't it, Frankie?' he  said softly. 'It's not been him alibi-ing you, but you  alibi-ing him.'

He let go of the hands. He had no need of  contact now. He had a stronger, better kind of  grip on Pickersgill, the grip of a charge he could  make stick.

'You
lied about
him
being here that night. That's  obstruction, Frankie. At the very least, we've got  you for obstruction.'

The long thin face was sullen and uncertain.

'I don't know what you're on about,' he said.

It's Janey, thought Wield. Janey's told him the beating was enough. But it's a long way from being  enough in Frankie's eyes.

'All right,' he said. 'You'd better come down to  the nick with me, Frankie.'

'What the hell for?'

'Just to keep you out of the way, mainly,' said  Wield. 'Though we'll think of something better  for your brief. You'll need a brief, Frankie. You see, after I've shut you up, I'm going back to the  hospital where I'll tell Ron you've shopped him for  the Spinks job. Now, I reckon he's going to tell me  you were the other man on that job.'

'Me! Do a job with that cowboy? You know that's not on, Mr Wield!'

'Mebbe I do, mebbe I don't. Who was the second man then, Frankie? Come on, lad. You know the  watchman's dead. You don't want to be mixed up  in this any more than you have to. Who was he?'

Again the unexpected reaction. A sort of triumphant amusement emerging in a raucous rush of  laughter which almost drowned the noise of a door  opening.

Almost.

Wield spun round and darted into the long  narrow entrance hall. The front door was shut  but at the other end the door which led into the  kitchen was wide open and through it Wield could  see a figure fumbling at the exit to the back yard.

It must have been locked. It was only half open when Wield reached him, hands flat and stiff like  butcher's cleavers. The figure turned, his hands raised also. But one look at the pale and frightened  face told Wield that the only intention here was a  terrified defence.

Lowering his own arms, he smiled, the smile  playing round his pitted face like a butterfly on  a slag heap.

In response the other relaxed also and let his  hands fall slowly from before his youthful anxious  features.

'Hello, Tommy,' said Wield.

Chapter 19

Statement of Thomas Arthur Maggs made at Mid-Yorkshire Police HQ in the presence of Detective-Sergeant  V. K. Wield.

‘I'm sorry about all the trouble I've caused. I  didn't mean it but there didn't seem much else to do. It was all on top of me and Ron said I'd be dropping him in the shit if I told the truth but likely I would have done if the watchman hadn't died. I want whoever killed Brenda to get caught  even though whatever they do to him won't be  enough. But I didn't want to go to prison myself  not for murder which is what I knew I'd get done for even though I never touched the man. That was Ron. I know it doesn't make any difference  because I was there anyway, but it was Ron not  me that hit him.

'It was all Ron's idea really. Brenda should have  met me in the Bay Tree at eight o'clock that night  only she didn't turn up. I wasn't all that surprised  because we'd had a big row the previous night. It was about how far we should go now we'd got  engaged. We'd just got engaged and I thought we  could do it, I mean, go all the way now that it was fixed we were going to marry, but she wouldn't.  Not inside her. Everything else, but not inside her and I got a bit annoyed and so did she. So when she didn't turn up, I thought she was just carrying  on the row.

'Ron was there and we drank together till nearly nine. It was very crowded by then and I was a bit  pissed off with being stood up so we went off to have a drive around and see what we could find  to do. Ron had a bottle of whisky and we thought  we might find some spare and go for a drive. We  looked in a couple of places but there wasn't much on and we ended up parked alongside Spinks's  warehouse having a drink when Ron said why shouldn't we do it? So we did. It was just a bit of fun till the watchman came. It was dead easy  getting in and we'd found a box full of pocket  transistors when this old fellow comes through  the door, waving a torch. Ron hit him and pushed  him over and we ran. We only had a couple of  transistors apiece but it didn't matter because like I say it still seemed just a bit of fun.

'But when the car broke down on the way home, we got worried. So Ron stuffed all the transistors  up his bomber jacket and he took off with them in  case anyone should come along asking questions.  The coppers rolled up just a few minutes later so I told them I'd been out with my girl-friend and she'd set off home by herself when the car broke  down. Then they tested me and took me in for a  blood test so I had to keep on lying especially as I  heard they'd found out about the break-in while  I was there and the watchman was badly hurt.

'Next morning I tried to ring Brenda at the  bank to square things with her, but she wasn't  there. And when the police came round to the  garage later on and told me she'd disappeared, I was worried sick. Ron said I'd better stick to my story. It'd be daft to say something that incriminated us, then find that Brenda had just gone  off somewhere in the huff. I didn't think she had, though. She wasn't that sort of girl. When they came round and told me they'd found her,  I was so sick I thought I'd die. I didn't know what to do. I mean, I wasn't thinking at all. I  just wanted to curl up. Ron said to keep quiet  still because by now the watchman was critical.  But it wasn't just that. I just couldn't think of  doing anything because all I could think of was  Brenda.

'Then the watchman died and I was a bit better by then and wondering what I should do. But when he died it was as bad as ever, so I took  off in the car. It got me as far as Watford Gap, then it broke down. I sat around for a bit drinking tea and thinking of hitching a ride to London. But in the end I just crossed the motorway and  got a lift back north. I've been living with Ron  round at his sister's house since then. I didn’t know what to do after the fight but Janey said  it would be all right, Ron had had it coming  to him, but it was over now and nothing more  would happen. Then Mr Wield, Sergeant Wield that is, came round and I listened and I could see that he was on to us and I decided I'd better get away again.

'I'm really sorry about all this and I'm sorry the watchman's dead and I wish he wasn't but I want to do anything I can to help the police catch  whoever it was that killed my Brenda.'

'That'll grab them in the gallery,' said Dalziel.  'There'll be more water in the jury box than on  a test match wicket at Manchester.'

'I feel sorry for the lad,' said Wield quietly.

'That's a bad sign, Sergeant. Next thing you'll be  putting stamps on your Christmas cards.'

Dalziel yawned. It was eight-thirty on Saturday morning. After Maggs had made his statement the previous night, Dalziel had talked to  him earnestly for nearly two hours, going over  everything again and again. His instinct had been to explore the new dimensions opened up by the  statement instantly, but in the end he had decided  to sleep on it, using as a soporific half a bottle of  Scotch.

Now he was stretching himself, ready for action.

The news from the hospital was that Dave Lee  had had a good night. Better still from Dalziel's point of view had been the confirmation of the hospital diagnosis a perforated ulcer whose condition could hardly have been aggravated by a blow to the stomach. Ludlam too was doing well. He had refused to say anything when questioned  briefly after Maggs's statement and the doctor had insisted that the interview be postponed till the  morning. But Frankie Pickersgill had talked freely till Janey arrived on the scene and let her split  loyalties tear her into hysterics.

'You see what this means, Sergeant,' continued  Dalziel.

Wield, who had seen what it meant the minute Tommy had started talking, prepared himself to be amused at the fat man's analysis.

'We haven't got a single sighting of Brenda  from the time she left the bank, that's what it  means. We weren't bothered as long as we thought  she'd met up with Tommy at half-eight. But now  things look different. We're back to square one. Every man who's got anything to do with this case, I'll want him checked out again. Before,  we were just asking what they were doing at  eleven o'clock that night. Now I want to know  what they were doing at six o'clock! That bank manager, for instance. Mulgan. You said he was  reported to have a bit of a lech going for the girl.  Mebbe he offered her a lift into town after work.  That schoolteacher too. And Lee, of course. We'll  need to get round the lot. I think I'll give Mr Pascoe  a ring.'

'I thought it was his day off, sir,' said Wield neutrally. 'And with the Spinks job cleared up,  won't we be able to use Mr Headingley's men?'

'There's a lot of loose ends there still. And what  will they know about anything anyway?' said  Dalziel irritably. 'No, we need men who've got  this thing at their fingertips.'

He reached for the phone.

Pascoe answered with a sharp, suspicious
Yes?
 
and his tone did not change when he realized  who it was.

He listened to Dalziel's digest of Maggs's statement and its implications without comment or  question.

'You don't seem all that interested, Peter,' said Dalziel in an injured tone.

'Don't I, sir? I'm sorry. I'm not long up. Ellie  hasn't been feeling too well and we had a rather  disturbed night.'

'Nowt serious, I hope,' said Dalziel.

'I don't think so. But I reckon she ought to lie on in bed.'

'Best place for her,' said Dalziel expertly. 'These  things always happen at weekends.'

'What things?'

'Anything,' said Dalziel. 'But I'm glad it's not serious. Look, I know it's your day off, but if Ellie's just going to be lying around, I'd appreciate it if you could pop in and lend a hand for a couple of hours.  After you've taken her breakfast up, of course.'

'Now that's what I call big of you, Andy,' interrupted Ellie's voice.

'Ellie! You've got yourself up after all,' said  Dalziel.

'No, I've been eavesdropping on the extension,'  she said. 'Early morning calls on Peter's day off  always fill me with suspicion.'

'Are you all right, lass? I told you yesterday, this  flying wasn't for you in your condition.'

'Flying?' said Pascoe.

'I didn't go flying,' protested Ellie. 'Listen, Andy,  I'll do a deal. Peter goes in today, he gets next  Friday and Saturday off, no reservations, no conditions, earthquakes, wind and fire not excepted.'

'You have my personal guarantee,' said Dalziel.

'Now hold on,' began Pascoe.

'Soon as you can, Peter,' said Dalziel hastily.  'Ellie, brandy's the stuff, listen to an expert.'

'Brandy? The stuff for what?'

'Owt that Scotch can't cure. Take care!'

Pascoe went slowly up to the bedroom.

'Eavesdropping now, is it?'

'Certainly.'

'What's all this about next Friday?'

'Well, we've got to go down and see my mother  sometime and I thought it'd be nice to stay overnight.'

'Jesus. And for this I give up my Saturday?'

'I could invite her up here for a while,' said Ellie.

'All right, you win. But listen, are you sure you  feel OK?'

'Never better. I'll give Thelma a ring, maybe.  Now what was it you said about breakfast?'

Later as he cleared away the tray, he said, 'Are  you sure there's nothing else you want?'

She looked lugubriously down at her swelling  breasts and belly.

'How about a nice big shiny egg we could take  turns to sit on? And when it hatched, out would  pop a nice little brat about six years old with your  eyes and my nose all neatly dressed and talking  and ready for school.'