Alan Hunter: Gently where the roads go

‘Felling’s my best man,’ Whitaker said. ‘But what do you want us to do now?’

‘Nothing whatever,’ Empton said. ‘There’s nothing further you can do. I’ll go back to town and pick up Kasimir and apply various forms of pressure. Then we will decide what we will decide. Some results may appear in the morning paper.’

‘Well,’ Whitaker said, ‘it’s beyond me. And you apparently know how to handle it.’

‘Leave it at that,’ Empton said. ‘As of now it’s our pigeon.’

He took hold of the briefcase. He looked squarely at Gently.

‘And what’s your theory, old man,’ he asked.

Gently shrugged. ‘I don’t have a theory. I’m only here to make up the party.’

‘You still think it’s one of your amateur killings?’

‘I’m only at the stage of collecting facts.’

‘It’ll be a labour of love, old man, I think.’

‘Taxpayers’ money,’ Gently said.

Empton’s teeth. Then he shook hands. He had a curiously unsubstantial grasp. Whitaker went with him down the stairs and stood a moment chatting in the doorway. Gently rose and moved over to the window. He saw Empton walk swingingly across to his car. It was a Jaguar coupe enamelled red and probably of a mark number known to the enthusiast. Empton slid into it and surged away. Whitaker came back up the stairs. Gently moved back to the desk to reclaim his pipe and his trilby.

‘Are you driving back too?’ Whitaker asked.

Gently shook his head. ‘Just going to lunch. I’d like to have Felling show me round this afternoon — unless you have a back-log of amateur crimes.’

Whitaker chuckled. ‘No. You can have him. I just wondered if you thought it worthwhile to stay.’

‘Purely routine,’ Gently said. ‘And probably idle curiosity.’

Whitaker said: ‘I can’t get over that fellow. Are they all like that in the Special Branch?’

‘A few.’ Gently sucked his pipe. ‘It’s a split world,’ he said.

Offingham, OFFGMS. (A.S. Offa and ham, home). 16,129. Map 12 C5. Mkt. Sat. E.C. Weds. London 52, Northampton 37, Bedford 19, Leicester 57. 1 mile E. of A1. On R. Ound, crossed here by Med. bridge of 12 arches. Church St Lawrence Perp., carved oak roof; also St Olaf, Dec., traces of fan vaulting, painted screen. Traces of 12th c. priory near R. Med. house in Mkt. Pl. Inds: printing, furniture mfg., light elec. products. Centre of a considerable Agri. area and county town of Offgms.

Gently took Felling to lunch with him at Fullton’s Restaurant in the Market Place. The dining-room was on the first floor and looked across market stalls to St Lawrence’s. At lunchtime Offingham came out of its trance; in its small-town way it looked crowded. The pavements were busy. In the Market Place people stood eating fish-and-chips out of newspapers. Clerks, shopkeepers, businessmen crowded the tables in the restaurants. There was little motion of traffic. All the shops had their doors locked. A communal atmosphere pervaded the town; everyone turned out for lunch.

Gently ordered a mixed grill, Felling a modestly priced chop. At a word from Felling they had been found a secluded table at the very end of the range of windows. Gently said nothing until he had eaten and the sergeant took his cue from Gently. Felling was around forty. He was dark, had a ruddy complexion and humourless good-looks. He watched Gently as they ate. Gently looked out of the window. They had both ordered iced lager and it went down very well.

At the coffee Gently said: ‘Have you any ideas you haven’t put on record?’

Felling looked up sharply from his coffee, then back to it again.

‘What makes you say that, sir?’ he asked.

‘You’ve done the field work,’ Gently said. ‘You put into a report what you’re sure of. But you get hunches, too. It’s hunches I’m after.’

‘Don’t know if I’ve got any,’ Felling said. ‘It’s like the Super put it, it’s all shuttered up. There’s only Madsen you could really suspect, and he just wasn’t here. You can’t get round it.’

‘He couldn’t have worked it?’ Gently asked.

Felling shook his head positively. ‘Not unless he’s got a double sir. I gave the Clydebank lot a minute description. Then there’s the woman at the lodgings, sir — Madsen was a regular when he was that way. And they knew him at Mackenzie’s and the Govan Mills. He was the only prospect. I chased him hard.’

‘What was Teodowicz doing over the weekend?’

Felling twisted his mouth. ‘I wish I knew, sir. According to Madsen he was in the garage part of Sunday, messing about with his van or something. Madsen saw him last at tea-time. He was gone when Madsen came for his truck.’

‘Where was he in the morning?’

‘Madsen doesn’t know, sir. He was lying in to get his sleep up. He was driving on the night Friday-Saturday and was out on the booze Saturday night. He went round to the Blue Bowl to have his lunch, and when he came back, Teodowicz was in the garage.’

‘And Monday?’

Felling turned over his hand. ‘A blank, till he went into the Blue Bowl. I can’t even find where he had that meal. He only had coffee at the Blue Bowl.’

‘Yes… coffee. What was that meal again?’

‘Egg and chips. And perhaps some sort of gateaux.’

‘A cafe meal,’ Gently said.

‘But not from any cafe in Offingham, sir.’

Gently drank some of his coffee, his eye wandering to St Lawrence’s. ‘According to the medical report,’ he said, ‘the meal was eaten at eight p.m. at the earliest. Probably later, say nine p.m. And at nine-thirty he’s in the Blue Bowl drinking coffee. He would have eaten that meal not far away… it sounds like a transport cafe meal.’

‘Yes sir, it does,’ Felling said.

‘Which suggests a journey,’ Gently said. ‘He may have been some distance away from Offingham — he may have left on the Sunday evening. That would account for his absence on Monday, why you can’t find trace of him here.’

‘Yes sir… could be,’ Felling said.

‘You’re thinking otherwise?’ Gently asked.

‘No sir.’ Felling’s head shook again. ‘I was still trying to place that cafe, sir.’

‘It’ll probably be on the A1.’

‘Yes sir. Could be on the Bedford road. But if it’s only half-an-hour’s drive, sir, that doesn’t leave much of a choice. Going north there’s a place at Syleham, and south there’s The Raven, near where he was killed. But Rice has checked The Raven for me, sir. Teodowicz hadn’t been seen there since last Thursday.’

‘It might be further off,’ Gently said. ‘An hour and a half is the outside limit. Perhaps you’d care to continue the check.’

‘Yes sir, I’ll do that,’ Felling said.

‘Also,’ Gently said, ‘there’s the matter of the gun.’

Felling looked blank. ‘That’s a dead end, sir. We’ve checked around until we’re dizzy. I reckon the chummie imported it, sir.’

‘From service sources, the report says. Have you got any barracks near here?’

‘Not nearer than Bedford,’ Felling said.

‘An aerodrome?’

Felling hesitated. ‘There’s Great Grimston and Barton Novers. And Huxford, that’s still being used.’

‘Which is the nearest?’

‘Well… Huxford. But it’s only a maintenance unit, sir. It was an airfield they ran up during the war. They’ve been talking of closing it for years.’

‘Where does it lie?’

‘Nearer Baddesley, sir.’

‘How far away from the A1?’

‘A couple of miles…’

‘How far from the lay-by where Teodowicz was killed?’

‘Maybe three,’ Felling said. ‘Across the fields, that is.’

‘Mmn,’ Gently said. ‘That’s interesting. It might bear looking into. Or have you checked there already?’