Gently Go Man (13 page)

‘Just run through it again,’ he said.

Bixley gaped, didn’t seem to hear him.

‘Come on, come on,’ Gently said.

‘But I now told you—’ Bixley began.

‘Now tell me again,’ Gently said.

One of the policemen shifted his feet. Bixley gulped, began to talk.

‘That,’ Gently said, ‘didn’t sound right either.’

‘But it’s the bleeding truth!’ Bixley croaked. ‘It is, I tell you.’

‘You’ve left some things out.’

‘No, I ain’t!’ Bixley said.

‘Things,’ Gently said, ‘like how the counter-assistant told you who’d taken your box of chocolates.’

‘It was Leach who told me!’ Bixley screamed.

‘My mistake,’ Gently said. ‘Now we’ll run through it again, putting that bit in.’

They went through it again, putting that bit in. Bixley’s lips were very dry, he slurred and tripped over his words. Setters was hammering a tattoo on the desk with his fingers. Bixley didn’t like the sound. He didn’t like Setters’ eyes.

‘So you knew,’ Gently said, ‘who’d gone off with your chocolates?’

‘Yuh,’ Bixley said. ‘Yuh, yuh, I knew.’

‘Yet you didn’t go after him. You left a quarter of an hour later.’

‘I thought I’d see him,’ Bixley said. ‘Yuh, I thought I’d see him around.’

‘You thought you’d leave it like that – after just having paid forty quid for the chocolates?’

‘Yuh,’ Bixley said. ‘Like that’s what I did.’

‘Though you knew he was going to shop you – that he was only waiting for the chance?’

‘I didn’t know nothing about that!’ Bixley shouted. ‘It’s bleeding lies, all that is.’

‘We’ve been talking to Betty Turner, Bixley.’

‘I don’t care. She’s a bleeding liar.’

‘Hallman too.’

‘The bloody rat.’

‘And there’s a lot of others who knew about Lister.’

Bixley strained forward in the chair.

‘All bloody right,’ he croaked. ‘All right. So Lister was going to put the squeal on me. Like I say, all bloody right!’

‘And you didn’t try to stop him,’ Gently said.

‘No, I didn’t try to stop him!’

‘You just let him go off with the box of reefers.’

‘Yuh, yuh, I just let him go.’

‘And Leach was lying if he said you telephoned.’

‘I never telephoned!’ Bixley screamed.

‘Not to Tony’s place?’ Gently asked.

‘I bleeding didn’t. I bleeding didn’t!’

‘So there wouldn’t be a record of such a call?’

Bixley gabbled out swear words.

‘Deeming wants you hung,’ Gently said. ‘You know where you stand with Deeming, don’t you?’

Bixley folded, began howling, stuck his palms in his
eyes. He rocked his shoulders from side to side, gasping out paroxysms like a kid.

‘It ain’t true!’ he kept howling. ‘It ain’t true, you bloody swines!’

‘It’s true,’ Gently said. ‘You’d better take a look at where you stand, Bixley. We haven’t got a thing on Deeming. We’ve got everything on you. You’re scum. You’re murderous scum. We’d sooner hang you than hang him. And you’ll hang, Bixley, make no doubt of it, unless you can squirm out of it by ratting. So you’d better rat. It’s your only chance. And you’d better pray that we believe you.’

‘You’re bloody lying!’ Bixley howled. ‘It ain’t true, you dirty swine.’

‘You’ll hang,’ Gently said. ‘You’ve had your last chance, Bixley.’

He went on howling and screaming. Setters got up and walked about. The uniform men in their semicircle stared about them, looked uncomfortable. Only Gently never moved. He was leaning on his elbows on the desk. He watched the crumpled, hysterical, gang-boy with eyes completely empty of expression. His stillness was terrible. It was that which made Setters walk about.

Bixley half straightened, his eyes streaming. He clutched at the desk, held on to it. He crouched, his chin between his hands, his mouth open, gasping sobs.

‘I didn’t!’ he sobbed, ‘I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t.’

‘Deeming did,’ Gently said. ‘You phoned him. He did it.’

‘Nobody did it,’ Bixley sobbed. ‘It was an accident, nobody did it.’

‘Deeming did it,’ Gently said. ‘At your suggestion. You’re in it with him.’

‘No!’ Bixley cried. ‘I never suggested it. I didn’t!’

‘What did you suggest?’ Gently asked.

‘Not doing that,’ Bixley sobbed.

‘What else could you suggest?’ Gently asked. ‘
Nothing
else would have stopped Lister.’

‘I didn’t, I tell you,’ Bixley sobbed. ‘I never suggested anything at all.’

‘What did you think Deeming would do?’

‘I didn’t think!’ Bixley wailed.

‘You must have thought,’ Gently said.

Bixley went on howling.

The door was tapped. Setters strode over to it. The desk-sergeant stood there. He held a message slip in his hand, looked dubiously towards Gently.

‘What is it?’ Gently asked.

‘It’s a message from Brewer, sir,’ the sergeant said. ‘The bloke they were tailing has given them the slip. Brewer said to let you know directly.’

Gently sat silent for a moment, then he rose and took the slip. It was brief. Deeming had got clear in the café, he’d gone into the toilet and hadn’t come out. After five minutes Brewer had gone after him and had found only an open toilet window. The window gave on a yard from which was access to Eastgate Street. Brewer had followed, found Deeming’s motorcycle gone.

‘Where are Brewer and Shepherd now?’

‘Trying to pick up some trace of him, sir.’

‘Tell them to come in, we need a car with R.T. And warn the patrols. They’re to arrest Deeming on sight.’

‘Yes, sir.’

The sergeant turned on his heel and went out. Gently pushed through the semicircle to Bixley, grabbed his collar and jerked him upright.

‘You heard that, Bixley?’ he said. ‘Deeming’s shaken off his tail. He’s after Elton, Bixley – and Elton’s your witness now.’

‘I don’t know nothing—!’ Bixley squealed. The squeal was cut off by a violent shake.

‘Listen!’ Gently thundered at him. ‘If Elton dies, you die. He’s the only person who can save you. He can testify who killed Lister. And Deeming’s after him, Bixley, Deeming wants you to hang. He’s going to stop Elton talking the way he stopped Lister talking. Or is it that Elton’s dead already?’

‘He’s alive!’ Bixley screamed.

‘Then where is he?’ Gently roared. ‘Where have you hidden him, Bixley?’

Bixley gurgled. Gently shook him and went on shaking him. Bixley let his muscles go limp and his head rolled about.

‘Shuck’s Graves!’ he gasped at last. ‘That’s where, Shuck’s Graves—!’

‘Where?’ Gently bawled in his ear.

‘Shuck’s Graves … Shuck’s Graves!’

Gently dropped him, turned to Setters.

‘Do you know where that is?’ he asked him.

‘Yeah,’ Setters said, ‘I know it. It’s the place where Dicky took you on his bike.’

Gently stared. ‘I’m a fool,’ he said. ‘Lock this one up, and let’s get out there.’

B
REWER DROVE. HE
was a good driver, as Setters had said of him. He drove a safe nine on the Norwich road, had a steady touch, wasn’t showy. When they turned off left into the side road he kept nibbling sixes in short stabs. He angled corners like a racing driver, straight in, straight out.

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he’d said to Gently, who’d taken the seat beside him.

Gently had shrugged. ‘You couldn’t help it. And you didn’t waste any time.’

Then, on purpose, he’d asked Brewer to drive, and Brewer was driving like a rally-winner. Shepherd was sitting intently behind them, Setters grimly in the other corner.

They came to the farm and its bumpy yard. Gently touched Brewer’s arm. He slowed to a walking pace beside a run where a girl in breeches was cleaning a henhouse. Gently wound down his window.

‘Has a motorcyclist passed this way, Miss?’ he called.

She nodded, staring, scraper in hand. ‘About ten minutes ago,’ she called back.

‘Thank you, miss.’

They bumbled away, struck the lane into the brecks. Over the dark swells, very far off, Gently caught sight of the two fir trees. All of them were eyeing the crests of those swells for a glimpse of a moving black speck. The light was silvery, flattening detail, dulling the contrast of the distance.

‘You know this track?’ Gently asked Brewer.

‘Yes, sir, pretty well,’ Brewer replied.

‘Have you driven it to the main road at Five Mile Drove?’

‘Yes, sir, a couple of times,’ Brewer said.

Gently flicked the R.T. switch.

‘X2 calling control,’ he said. ‘I want a car to intercept on the heath road running from Five Mile Drove to Shuck’s Graves. Hold it a moment,’ He returned to Brewer. ‘Is there any other track to the Graves?’ he asked.

‘There’s one from the north,’ Brewer said. ‘Comes in from Mundham and that way.’

‘Could he use it?’

Brewer drove a moment. ‘No,’ he said. ‘He couldn’t get through. There’s a mere out that way that floods in wet summers. We’ve had double the average. He couldn’t get through.’

‘Calling control,’ Gently said. ‘Put another car in Five Mile Drove. And cover Breck Farm Turn on the Norwich Road in case our man doubles back past us.’

‘Received and understood,’ control said. ‘Willco. Out.’

The two fir trees got larger. There was no sign of
Deeming. Brewer hesitated once or twice where the track became uncertain. Sometimes it ran over a gravelly plateau from which departed several apparent
alternatives
, at other places heath grew over it, scars of pebbles offered themselves. Deeming had known the track better than did Brewer. He’d never hesitated once.

‘We shan’t be in time,’ Setters bit out, goaded at last into breaking his silence. ‘It won’t take Deeming ten minutes. Elton’s a kid, a lightweight.’

‘Don’t shoot the pianist,’ Gently said.

‘Yeah,’ Setters said. ‘Yeah, I know.’

He was holding the back of Gently’s seat, trying to will the Wolseley to go faster.

They came at last to the top of the ridge where they could see the depression and the two hummocks. It looked deserted at first glance, and was quickly hidden as they ducked off the ridge. Then it came into sight again as the track approached the first hummock. There it was spread out in front of them, still, apparently, deserted.

‘Where’s the entrance?’ Gently asked.

‘Over in that far hillocky bit,’ Setters said. ‘It’s been shut up since before the war. Since the archaeologists dug it.’

‘Could anyone live in a place like that?’

‘We’ll soon see,’ Setters snapped. ‘For Chrissake, man,’ he said to Brewer, ‘keep driving – keep driving!’

Brewer turned off the track and bucked crazily towards the hummock. The surface of the depression was ribbed with gullies that sent the Wolseley pitching and porpoising. They’d covered a hundred yards of this
and had another hundred to go when a couple of figures broke out of the hummock, seemed to rise out of the ground. One was Elton. He’d got blood on his head. The other was Deeming. He carried a spanner. Elton was screaming, running blindly, he didn’t see the approaching Wolseley.

‘Step on it, step on it!’ Setters shrieked, standing up in the plunging car.

But Deeming had seen them, he’d dropped the spanner, was racing back towards the hummock. Elton saw them too, now, and seemed to be caught in two minds. He paused, wavered, began running towards the hummock with the fir trees.

‘Go after Elton!’ Gently shouted.

Brewer hung on the wheel, threw the Wolseley round. As he straightened it there came a roar from behind them and Deeming reappeared in the saddle of his motorcycle. Rising up on his rests, he floated past them over the broken ground, his machine bounding and jarring under him, himself steady, his knees springing. Elton heard him coming, turned, stood holding his hand out and screaming. Deeming went straight at him. Elton faltered sideways, was hit, went down.

He got up, ran a few paces, screaming piercingly all the while. He was holding his arm where he’d been hit. Deeming had turned and was going after him again.

‘This way!’ Gently roared. ‘Make for us, Elton, make for the car!’

But Elton was confused, he was running
chicken-like
, this way and that.

Brewer stabbed down the accelerator in a violent attempt to intercept Deeming. The Wolseley rose up like a tank, crashed hard on its axles, bounded forward. Deeming avoided it easily. He rode at Elton standing high. Elton threw out his hands, dodged feebly, was hit on the shoulder, spun several yards.  

Once more he got up, his face disfigured with pain and terror. Now it seemed he couldn’t move, he stood swaying, wailing, crying. Deeming turned on him again.  

‘Stop the car!’ Gently bawled.  

But Setters was out before it stopped, went haring across to the paralysed Elton. He caught him up by the waist, snatched him aside from the oncoming bike. Brewer sent the Wolseley at Deeming. Deeming swerved, bore away. Setters dragged Elton towards the car, Shepherd jumped out, they lugged him in.  

‘He’s going to kill me!’ Elton was screaming. ‘He’s going to kill me, going to kill me!’

‘He’ll do some killing!’ Setters panted. ‘We’ll string him up to that bloody fir tree.’

Deeming came round in a long curve, eased to a stop about thirty yards from the Wolseley. Gently opened his door, slid out. He began to walk towards Deeming.

‘That’s far enough, screw,’ Deeming said when Gently was halfway towards him. He gave his throttle a touch, showed his teeth in a grin.

Gently stopped. They looked at each other.
Deeming
’s slate eyes were glittering. The grin stayed on his face but the eyes weren’t with it.

‘Like you’re asking for it,’ Deeming said. ‘I might
pick you off, screw. You get too far from that car and I could put you with Lister.’

‘You’d better give yourself up,’ Gently said.

Deeming gave an amused laugh. ‘That wit,’ he said. ‘I always went for it big. Like why should I give myself up?’

‘Because you’re finished,’ Gently said. ‘We know the whole story, Deeming. You did for yourself when you came after Elton.’

‘So I should give myself up?’ Deeming said.

‘It’ll save you trouble,’ Gently said. ‘You’re trapped. You can’t get out. We’ve got cars covering all the exits.’

‘Cars,’ Deeming said. ‘You funny screw.’ He laughed again, stroked his throttle. ‘You haven’t cars enough,’ he said, ‘and they’re kind of slow, kind of heavy. You can’t get me with cars, screw. There isn’t enough in all Squaresville. You can’t touch me. I’m a free man. Better face it, screw. I’m free.’

‘You’ll get a fair trial,’ Gently said.

‘Surest thing,’ Deeming said. ‘It’s nice to give a fair trial to a guy you’re going to hang. Like then you can kind of rub it in, you can do the cat-and-mouse action. Squares love it, don’t they, screw? They go for it big, a state kill.’

‘You’re a killer yourself,’ Gently said.

‘Yeah,’ Deeming said. ‘I’m a killer. But I don’t kill in cold blood. I’m not as low as the squares, screw.’

‘You knew the penalty,’ Gently said.

‘I know a lot about squares,’ Deeming said. ‘How come they don’t like me killing, when they pay a murderer themselves?’

Gently shrugged. ‘You’ll have time to argue that out in your cell,’ he said. ‘But you can’t get away, Deeming. We’re going to pick you up somewhere.’

Deeming shook his head. ‘Not you, screw. Not while I’m sitting on this bike. Take a look, screw. I’m a free man. Maybe you’ll never see one again.’

‘You aren’t free,’ Gently said.

Deeming chuckled. ‘I’m free,’ he said. ‘As of now I’ve washed my hands of all squares and the taint of them. I’m on the borders now, screw. I’m reaching out for the big touch. I’m the only free man. You haven’t got a weapon, screw.’

‘I see you as a killer,’ Gently said. ‘A killer who’s scared of the penalty.’

‘Keep watching,’ Deeming said. ‘You’ve something left to learn yet.’

‘You can’t face it,’ Gently said.

‘Like I choose not to,’ Deeming grinned. ‘Free choice – you know? It’s in my power to do either.’

There was a rush of feet behind Gently. Deeming hit his clutch, paddled away. Setters and Brewer, running like maniacs, tried to catch up with him and grab him. Deeming didn’t put on speed. He let the two policemen stick close behind him. He rode a circle round the Wolseley, waited till first Setters, then Brewer, fell away. He continued riding back to Gently.

‘See how it bounces?’ he drawled. ‘Like I’ve got the squares where I want them, tagging along in the rear.’

‘So now what?’ Gently said.

‘Keep watching,’ Deeming drawled. ‘I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch. Just keep your eyes stashed on Dicky.’

He curved off again, rode deliberately close to the advancing Setters, didn’t swerve for an instant when Setters made a hopeful spring at him. Then he rode on to the track and pointed in the direction of the Chase. He kept going, very steady, at about fifteen miles an hour.

‘Get into the car,’ Gently said. ‘There’s nothing we can do except follow him.’

Setters flung himself in, breathing heavily and saying nothing. In the back of the car Shepherd was dabbing Elton’s head with antiseptic. Elton had got his eyes closed. He was moaning and snivelling. He gave a wailing cry when the car started, made a fluttery, pushing motion with his hand. Gently pressed the R.T. switch.

‘X2 calling control,’ he said.

‘Control receiving X2,’ control said. ‘Your patrols are on their stations.’

‘We have Deeming under observation,’ Gently said. ‘He’s proceeding along the track to Five Mile Drove. I want the two cars in that area to form a roadblock where the track goes through the Chase. Tell them to pick their spot carefully and to make sure it’s completely blocked. Read it back. Over.’

Control read the message back.

‘Further instruction,’ Gently said. ‘Tell them not to sit in the cars.’

They followed Deeming. He increased his speed when he found he had them behind him, established a distance of a quarter of a mile, settled down in the fours. Brewer made unobtrusive attempts to cut down on the
distance, but they failed. Deeming was watching them closely in his mirror.

‘What do we do when we come to the block, sir?’ Brewer asked Gently.

Gently grunted. ‘I’m wondering about that myself,’ he said.

‘We ram the louse,’ Setters growled. ‘Don’t dare to let him come past you. If you fix him that’s too bad. I’ll cry all the way to the inquest.’

‘Do you want him rammed, sir?’ Brewer asked Gently.

‘No,’ Gently said. ‘I want him in dock.’ Brewer frowned, held the speed steady, never let his eye stray from Deeming.

‘He was going to kill me,’ Elton moaned. ‘He came there to kill me.’

Shepherd was flaking a bandage on him over a pad of moistened lint.

‘They brought me food,’ Elton said. ‘I thought he’d come with my food. Then he hit my head. He was going to kill me.’

‘We’ll get him,’ Setters said. ‘Don’t you worry, Elton.’

‘I wouldn’t have said nothing,’ Elton said. ‘I wouldn’t never have said nothing. Then he hit my head. He pulled out a spanner and hit it. I fell down, he tripped over my feet. I got up the ladder and ran. I wouldn’t have said nothing at all. But he was going to kill me.’

‘Yeah,’ Setters said. ‘We know. Don’t you worry about it, Elton.’

‘He was nice to me,’ Elton snivelled. ‘Then he hit my head.’

Gently looked over his shoulder. ‘Is that where the sticks are kept?’ he asked.

‘Yuh,’ Elton blubbered. ‘I never knew. That’s where they kept them, down there.’

‘Whose idea was it for you to hide there?’

‘Sid Bixley’s,’ Elton said. ‘He told me I was going to be arrested, I’d have to stop there till they fixed it.’

‘Don’t you worry,’ Setters said. ‘You’re in the clear now, Elton.’

They began to see the Chase stretching sombrely across the skyline. Deeming hadn’t changed his pace, was riding easily, relaxedly. A couple of times he’d looked back, given a derisive wave of his hand, but most of the time he just rode as though he were out for his pleasure.

Control called them up.

‘Your block is in position, X2. About a mile from the main road, the track is closed off as instructed. Any further instructions?’

‘Give me a supporting patrol,’ Gently told them. ‘Put it in Five Mile Drove, stationed at the junction with the track.’

‘Willco,’ control said. ‘We’ll try to send you another patrol.’

They came to the nursery, the fire-signs. A
forest-ranger
watched them go by. In the trees they lost sight of Deeming and Brewer promptly lifted his speed. Deeming let them come up closer. He wasn’t trying to get away. He held them back at a hundred yards and Brewer settled down again. Setters was back holding the seat.

‘Remember what I said,’ he snapped at Brewer. ‘You’ll only be cheating the hangman, and we don’t all like hangmen.’

‘I’ll try to stop him,’ Brewer clipped.

‘Better than that,’ Setters said.

‘Just stop him,’ Gently said. ‘If you can,’ he added.