Alan Hunter - Gently Go Man

‘Could that have been bought locally?’ Gently asked.

Setters shrugged faintly. ‘I’ll check it,’ he said. ‘I could bloody weep. I’m no good as a cop. I think for sure I’d have killed that slob.’

‘You wouldn’t have killed him,’ Gently said.

‘Look at me,’ Setters said. ‘Look at the way I’m shaking. I’m a Detective Inspector, me, I’ve got thirty years’ service. And I’m just finding out I’ve got murder in me.’

‘Not murder,’ Gently said. ‘Blind hate, that’s all.’

‘Murder,’ Setters said. ‘Murder. I know what I feel. When I saw him go for you with that knife I wanted to smash the life out of him. I wanted to do it then and there. And I’d have done it, I’m bloody certain.’

Gently shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t be talking about it now,’ he said. ‘The ones who’ll do it don’t talk about it. They only talk with their hands.’

Setters looked at his hands. He moved the fingers, crooking them.

‘I could bloody weep,’ he repeated. He jammed his hands into his pockets.

Gently sat on the desk, filled his pipe, gave one or two puffs.

‘Did you notice who slipped Bixley the knife?’ he asked.

‘Nope,’ Setters said. ‘I was bawling into the R.T. It must have been after they pulled out Brewer, after the window was smashed.’

‘Brewer didn’t see it?’

‘Didn’t have a chance,’ Setters said. ‘Baynes must have seen it slipped, but we can’t talk to him. How would he have recognized him, anyway, when the slob had a mask?’

‘He might have said something,’ Gently said. ‘Baynes might have recognized the voice.’

‘Yes,’ Setters said. ‘There’s a chance of that. And we’ll get whoever it was if I have to use a rack on them. I want that chummie in the dock along with Bixley.’

‘There’ll be no prints on that handle,’ Gently said. ‘But we might be able to trace the purchase.’

Setters gave the knife a glare. ‘I don’t think it was bought here,’ he said. ‘There’s only two shops would sell them, and I keep an eye on what they stock. It’s ten years since we had any knife business in Latchford. Maybe you can buy them in Castlebridge.’

‘You can buy them in Bethnal,’ Gently said.

‘Yes,’ Setters said, ‘that sounds more likely. But I’ll check, don’t worry. I want every screw in Bixley’s coffin. And I’m telling you this, too. I’ve forgotten that Elton ever existed. Just nail that Lister job on Bixley, and Elton can go chase his tail.’

Gently smiled distantly, puffing. ‘I may oblige with that,’ he said.

‘He’s the chummie,’ Setters said. ‘I can see it now, the murdering slob. Elton was just a mixed-up kid, he didn’t have it in him to kill. But Bixley’s a killer, a filthy killer. He did that job, and he’s going to swing.’

‘Yes,’ Gently said, ‘it was subtle.’

‘Subtle my foot,’ Setters snarled. ‘Just subtle him along to the eight o’clock walk, that’s subtle enough for a thug like him.’

The phone belted. Setters snatched it.

‘It’s for you,’ he said. ‘I’m crossing my fingers.’

It was Pagram on the other end, he was sounding smooth and allusive. Gently moved his pipe across and kept puffing while he listened.

‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘Thank you. My congratulations to Narcotics.’ He paused some puffs. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Just send the report up by dispatch.’

He hung up. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Another screw for Bixley’s coffin. His cousin came clean after an all-night session, and we’ve chapter and verse for the dope-peddling charge.’

‘Fine,’ Setters said. ‘But it’s not enough, now.’

‘Mmn,’ Gently nodded. ‘It’s the link we wanted. It was only surmise up till now, but now the surmise is proved. We’ve got a motive for the Lister killing. Lister was interfering with the trade.’

‘They won’t hang him on the motive,’ Setters said.

‘No,’ Gently said, ‘but we’ve got our link.’ He went on smoking, looking at the knife. ‘We’ve got to clinch it now,’ he said.

‘So?’ Setters said.

Gently rose from the desk. ‘I’ll back a hunch,’ he said. ‘Have them send in Hallman for a little chat. I’m guessing he knows as much as anybody.’

Hallman was sent in. He wasn’t looking very happy. He’d got a bruise on his cheek and a strip of plaster on his chin. He’d got plaster on his hand as well, across the lower palm of his left hand. He was trying to stare at people defiantly. He wasn’t managing it too well.

‘Sit down, Hallman,’ Gently said, pointing to the chair they’d placed for him. This time the chair was close to the desk and only the light from the window fell on it. Setters had kept sitting behind the desk. Gently had resumed his perch on it. He had refilled his pipe and was now lighting it, talking with his pipe in his mouth.

Hallman sat, clasping his hands between his legs. Gently put out his match, puffed, looked at Hallman.

‘You’ve hurt your hand,’ Gently said to him.

Hallman clasped it a bit tighter.

‘Is it badly cut?’ Gently said.

Hallman didn’t give an answer.

Gently went on surveying him mildly, giving regular, thoughtful, puffs. He clasped his hands round one knee, leaning a little closer to Hallman.

‘You’re in a bit of trouble, Hallman,’ he said. ‘I think you’re going to get sent to jail. We know quite a lot about you and Bixley, more than you’re giving us credit for. You know what I’m talking about, Hallman?’

Hallman kneaded his clasped hands.

‘Yes,’ Gently said. ‘You’re in pretty deep. So it’s no use your hiding that hand up.’

‘I ain’t hiding it up,’ Hallman said, but without displaying his hand.

‘How did you cut it?’ Gently asked.

‘It ain’t cut,’ Hallman said.

Gently stuck out his hand. ‘Show it to me,’ he said.

‘It ain’t cut,’ Hallman persisted. ‘Like I tore it on something.’

‘On what?’

Hallman pulled on his hands, writhed his shoulders from side to side.

‘On my handlebars,’ he said. ‘Yuh, on my handlebars, that’s what.’

‘You’ve got something sharp on your handlebars?’

‘Yuh, something,’ Hallman said. ‘Like I threw my bike down quick and cotched my hand on something.’

‘Are you left-handed?’ Gently asked.

‘No,’ Hallman said. ‘Right-handed, I am.’

‘So you threw your bike down to your right — yet you tore your left hand.’

‘Yuh,’ Hallman said. ‘Yuh, that’s how I did it. Yuh.’

‘You’re a poor liar,’ Gently said.

‘Yuh, it ain’t a lie,’ Hallman said.

Gently puffed smoke over his head. ‘Remember I was there,’ he said. ‘I was watching you, Hallman. I saw every move you made. It was you who smashed the window with a brick. It was the rear window on the car’s right. Then you had to reach in and forward to unlock it, and you used your left hand to do that. You’ve got a clean cut on your palm, Hallman. You cut it on the jagged edge of the window.’

‘No, I never,’ Hallman said. ‘Like on my handlebars I did it. Nor I didn’t throw no brick, you didn’t see me do that.’

‘Perhaps you weren’t there?’ Gently said.

‘Yuh,’ Hallman said, ‘I was there.’

‘You’re sure of that?’ Gently said.

‘Yuh,’ Hallman said. ‘Yuh.’

Gently flipped open the paper on the desk, revealed the knife with its blood and dirt. He just held his finger on the paper for a moment, watching Hallman stare at the knife.

‘What would that be?’ Gently asked.

Hallman swallowed. ‘That’s a blade,’ he said.

‘What blade would it be?’ Gently asked.

‘Yuh, I don’t know,’ Hallman said.