Alan Hunter - Gently Go Man

‘Elton was there,’ Gently said. ‘Elton was there because you proved it and because the facts all prove it. But the part he played in what happened is something we still have to guess at.’

‘Bixley had a passenger,’ Setters said. ‘And a passenger is a witness. And Bixley was a quarter of an hour behind. I can’t see Bixley doing the busting. But Elton didn’t have a passenger and Elton left right after Lister, so if this chocolates angle holds I’d say that Elton was told to recover them. Which gives me another motive for Elton. And lets Bixley out of the picture.’

‘You’re missing something,’ Gently said.

‘I’m doing my best,’ Setters said.

‘Bixley is an expert rider,’ Gently said. ‘I’m told locally he’s the mostest.’

‘Yeah,’ Setters said. ‘So what does that prove? That Elton bungled it when he busted-off Lister. I’d say he did it trying to stop him and not knowing a better way to do it. And that still adds up to Elton having done it, whether by accident or with malice aforethought. And I like that accident angle best, I never could see Elton as a deliberate killer.’

‘Nor could I,’ Gently said. ‘Especially with Betty Turner on Lister’s pillion.’ He pulled the starter, brushed the gear in. ‘We’ll get a warrant for the First and Last,’ he said. ‘Also one for Mr Deeming’s rooms, just in case Mr Deeming is being quixotic.’

They drove back to Police H.Q. Bixley had been cooling his heels there for an hour. He’d been picked up straight away at the First and Last cafe where two detective constables had found him engaged in the usual jukebox session. Deeming wasn’t among those present and there had been a little trouble. Bixley had collected a black eye to add to his thick lip. He had been abusive as well as violent. One of the detective constables was attending him.

‘A pity,’ Setters observed, ‘we drew a blank at his house.’

He got on the phone to the local magistrate to request the new warrants. Gently lit his pipe, sat smoking, drawing patterns on Setters’ desk-pad. Ralphs, who had missed his tea, had departed to make a quick meal.

‘It’s going to be tricky,’ Setters said. ‘If we keep drawing a blank. We’ve got no handle for Bixley, he can laugh in our face.’

‘Yes,’ Gently said. He kept drawing on the pad.

‘We can’t hold him,’ Setters continued. ‘And it would be a good idea to hold him.’

‘Very good,’ Gently agreed.

‘So what’s the routine?’ Setters said.

‘I’ll have a chat with him,’ Gently said. ‘Now. I’ll leave you to look after the searches.’

‘Hmn,’ Setters said. ‘Well, if you think it will do any good. But me, I’d sooner have a charge to throw at him before I tried to go to work. But then, I’m just a bucolic. I’ll leave you Baynes to sit in.’

‘Is he a shorthand writer?’ Gently asked.

‘Yeah,’ Setters said. ‘Expecting a confession?’

‘Window-dressing,’ Gently said. ‘It never hurts to dress the window.’

Setters went out to collect his warrants and sent in Detective Constable Baynes. Baynes was a heavy-featured man with a fresh complexion and slow, blue eyes. He had a bruise on the side of his chin. He grinned sheepishly when Gently noticed it.

‘Chummie copped me a fourpenny one, sir,’ he said. ‘Didn’t take to the idea of coming down here.’

Gently gave him his instructions, sent him to fetch in Bixley. While he was gone Gently placed a chair in the centre of the floor in front of the desk. Setters had got an adjustable desk-lamp. Gently trained it on the chair. Then he switched off the overhead light and retired to the gloom behind the desk.

A few moments later he heard Baynes’s footsteps marching briskly down the corridor. The door was tapped and thrown open and Baynes clicked his heels.

‘Bixley, sir.’

He gave Bixley a nudge which sent him staggeringly into the office. Bixley nearly collided with the chair. He stood holding the back of it, blinking furiously.

‘Sit down, Bixley,’ Gently said.

‘Like what’s this about?’ Bixley began.

Baynes laid two large hands on Bixley’s shoulders and sat him down on the chair.

‘Lock the door, please,’ Gently said.

Baynes made a business of locking the door. In point of fact there wasn’t a key, but Baynes made a convincing sound with the latch.

‘Now if you’ll bring your book to the desk here,’ Gently said, ‘I’d like a transcript of Bixley’s answers.’

Baynes took a chair to the end of the desk, scuffed through a notebook, laid out three pencils.

‘Good,’ Gently said.

‘Like what’s going on?’ Bixley broke out again.

Baynes immediately seized a pencil and commenced a ferocious scribble.

‘I think,’ Gently said, ‘you’d better listen to me and simply answer my questions, Bixley. That way you won’t go saying things you wouldn’t like to see in a report afterwards. Do you understand me?’

Bixley glared at the light. His pupils were contracted and he was sweating.

‘Like tell me, screw,’ he said, ‘and tell me straight. What’s this jazz all about?’

‘Take it down,’ said Gently unnecessarily.

‘Take nothing down!’ Bixley bawled. ‘I ain’t done nothing and like you know it, so why am I hung up in here?’

‘Have you finished?’ Gently asked.

‘No I haven’t,’ Bixley said. ‘I’m asking you, screw, and I want an answer. You ain’t got no right to keep me down here.’

‘When you have finished,’ Gently said, ‘I’ll do the talking if you don’t mind, Bixley. And just remember that this is a police station. It’ll be to your advantage not to forget it.’

Bixley swore at him obscenely.

‘Take it down,’ Gently said.

Baynes went scribbling down the page, flipped it over and scribbled some more.

‘Now,’ Gently said. ‘Is that all?’

It apparently was. Bixley only glared.

‘Right,’ Gently said. ‘You’re being sensible. Let’s see if you can answer a few questions. Where were you this morning?’

‘You know where I was,’ Bixley snarled.

‘I think I do,’ Gently said. ‘You were in Castlebridge, weren’t you?’

‘Like I wasn’t, then,’ Bixley said. ‘I wasn’t nowhere near Castlebridge. I was out riding like you said. And nobody can’t prove different.’

‘Where were you riding?’ Gently asked.

‘I was out on the heath,’ Bixley said.

‘Where out on the heath?’

‘Just out on the heath,’ Bixley said.

‘Then you couldn’t have been recognized,’ Gently said, ‘by a man you talked to in Castlebridge?’

‘I wasn’t there,’ Bixley said.

‘Make sure you’ve got that answer,’ Gently said to Baynes.

He gave Baynes time for plenty of scribbling.

‘Do you know a man named Leach?’ he asked.

‘Like suppose I do,’ Bixley said. ‘He only keeps a cafe, don’t he?’

‘He used to keep one,’ Gently said. ‘Just at this moment he’s keeping a cell warm. He was arrested at about nine a.m. this morning, around the time when you weren’t in Castlebridge.’

‘So what’s that to do with me?’ Bixley said.

‘We’ve been asking him questions,’ Gently said. ‘And we’ve been going through some of his records. Did you know that Leach kept records?’

‘He wouldn’t have said nothing,’ Bixley said.

‘He,’ Gently said, ‘couldn’t help it. And he wasn’t quite quick enough hiding his records. I got hold of a notebook I shouldn’t have seen.’

‘He’s a stupid git,’ Bixley said.

‘He knew quite a lot about Tuesday.’

‘He didn’t know-’ Bixley began. He stopped, tried to pierce the haze beside the lamp.