Alan Hunter: Gently Down the Stream

Gently broke off again, as though that, for him, was the end of the matter. Routine was routine… no need to go into that. The interest lay in how you got to your man.

‘Here, but wait a minute!’

The super thought otherwise.

‘Put the light on, somebody… we don’t have to sit here in the dark!’

Dutt obediently rose to his feet and a glare of fluorescence flooded the bare office. Gently screwed up his eyes and puffed a disapproving cloud of smoke.

‘Did you know he was masquerading as Thatcher, right there on the spot?’

The stars had been ousted from their oblique wedge of sky.

‘He was so damned good at it… I had doubts even then.’

‘But you had Thatcher in mind?’

‘Of course. The date almost clinched it.’

‘Dates? What dates, man?’

‘Easter, principally… That was when Lammas put his plan in operation — he gives you the reason: it was then when his Society fixed the date of their conference. Having got that, he went to work. He booked the yacht and rented the bungalow… and started disappearing on mid-week trips. And at Easter Thatcher drifted into Upper Wrackstead Dyke, complete with a frowzy old houseboat and an alibi for being there only occasionally…’

‘His widow!’ grunted Hansom, whose memory had been stirred. ‘And he was away Friday evening — we heard that right at the beginning.’

‘Yes… we heard it from Annie Packer. There’s an odd twist, if you like.’

‘Then you knew it was Thatcher when you borrowed his dydle?’

The super was going to have it, one way or the other.

‘I told you… I wasn’t quite sure. And I had to prove my theory. I suppose I might have grabbed Thatcher on suspicion and established his identity, but there was just a chance it was someone else… I like to prove before I move.’

‘I don’t see what proof it was against Thatcher, your finding Hick’s denture in the mud.’

‘The denture wasn’t.’ Gently shot a wry glance at Dutt. ‘But the bullets were.’

‘Eh?’

‘They might as well have had his signature on them. Only Thatcher knew what I was up to. There wasn’t a soul about when I borrowed his dydle… it had to be Thatcher with the gun.’

‘It was an unnecessary risk, Gently!’

‘I didn’t know he’d chase after us on the next bus.’

‘A fine mess we’d have been in if he’d knocked off the pair of you.’

‘No doubt he was thinking the same when he saw us with the denture …’

The holy of holies was silent for a space. Four tired policemen pursued their thoughts at their respectively salaried levels. Gently wondered if he would smoke again and decided that he wouldn’t. He’d run out of peppermint creams while Lammas was making his statement.

‘But why did the bloody fool do it?’ exclaimed the super at last. ‘He might just have faded away — nobody would have looked too hard to find him.’

‘You’re forgetting his wife… she would have looked.’

‘It isn’t motive enough!’

‘Yes… when you remember how he loathed Hicks. But she was the cause of it. She pushed him over. It’s the cold-hearted ones who menace society.’

‘The cold-hearted ones!’ The super mused over the phrase. ‘You can’t make that criminal. I suppose you wish we could?’

Gently’s head shook slowly. ‘They’re not to blame either. They didn’t choose themselves. Society’s crude, you know… it’s a brutal piece of work! All we’ve achieved so far is done with force… there must be other and better ways of living together.’

‘“Christ knows!”’ the super quoted.

‘Christ knew — but society didn’t.’

‘We were just a lot of policemen — that’s what he was trying to say. We wouldn’t understand — the jury wouldn’t understand — the judge wouldn’t, either. It was only Christ he stood a chance with.’

‘You’re leaving out the hangman!’

Hansom wasn’t soft with killers.

Gently shrugged his bulky shoulders. ‘Christ might understand him, too!’

The money was under the floorboards in the houseboat and in the cracks of the same floorboards they found deposits of blood under deposits of soap-sud. The bullet that killed Annie had been removed, but a freshly puttied hole in one of the cabin doors showed where it had lodged.

Along with the money was a black japanned tin containing Lammas’ make-up outfit. It was an expensive collection with numerous etceteras. There were two sticks of carmine liner, one of them virgin and unused.

The tin was contained in a waterproof bag, since neither the space under the floorboards nor the shack in the carrs had been dry situations. It had spent nearly three months in that shack while Lammas was leading his double life. It had been cached amongst the nettles along with Thatcher’s paunch and costume. It was in the same cache that the blood-stained jacket and cap had been found… Lammas had donned them after the murder in case he was seen driving away the Daimler.

‘I’m going to cadge a day out of this!’

Gently had finished his report at last.

‘They had our Sunday, didn’t they? Well, they owe me a day’s fishing!’

He folded up the report and shoved it into an envelope. Dutt glanced at him apprehensively — he knew Gently’s state of mind when his chief wanted to score off authority.

‘Daresay they’d let you have it, sir, wevver they knows about it or not.’

‘I don’t care a damn if they would, Dutt. I’m going to have it, and they can go to hell!’

He threw the report down on Mrs Grey’s parlour table and stalked over to the window. There were vacant moorings in the Dyke where the houseboat had been towed away.

‘And I’m not going to buy a licence, Dutt!’

‘No, sir. You won’t buy a licence.’

‘I’m just in the mood to talk to some river police — I should enjoy a little bit of prosecution!’

‘Make you feel like a civvy, sir.’

‘Yes, Dutt — it’d redress the balance!’

Still the sun was burning down, the last sun of June. On the dreamily throbbing hire boats they were reading of the murder. The biggest thing since Christie! ‘Gently Arrests A “Murdered” Man.’ Lammas was a myth already… he’d stopped being human when they clipped on the handcuffs.

‘On second thoughts…’

Dutt waited. Gently often had second thoughts.

‘Let’s catch the next train back to town — I’m fed up with this part of the world!’

Dutt grinned at his superior. How many times had it happened like that? Gently’s kicking never lasted — that was Chief Inspectorial nature.

‘It’ll be shocking hot in the city, sir.’

‘I know. But never mind.’

‘And I reckon we’ve missed the express-’

‘I’d like to sweat on a stopper!’

His eyes met the Cockney sergeant’s. For a moment he couldn’t react. Then he grinned back and shrugged, and patted Dutt’s burly arm.

‘Come in and see the kids, sir,’ said Dutt sympathetically, ‘you’d be surprised the way they grow!’

Gently nodded. ‘I think I’ll do that. It’s a mistake, my being a bachelor.’