Alan Hunter - Gently by the Shore

‘No. It was never out of the garage.’

‘So the people who saw it at North Shore would be liars?’

‘They were certainly under a misapprehension…’

Gently flicked briskly at his over-worked trilby. ‘You’ll have got rid of the ring, of course… that was too much of a coincidence.’

The big features relaxed and there was a glimpse of gold. ‘If you don’t mind me saying it, Inspector, I think we had better consider that ring to have been an illusion.’

‘I’m not subject to illusions, Louey.’

‘But just once, perhaps, in a long career?’

‘Not even once, and certainly not prophetically. I didn’t know the TSK or its secret sign existed when I saw your ring, but I knew where I’d seen it before when it turned up a second time.’

‘A trick of the memory, perhaps.’

‘The police aren’t much subject to them.’

‘Well, shall we say rather dubious evidence?’

In a court of law it would be for the jury to decide.’

Louey laughed his low, caressing laugh. ‘How we talk, Inspector… how we do. But I like these examples of your official approach to a problem. It’s comforting to feel that the guardians of our law and order work so efficiently and so intelligently. As I said on a former occasion, I could only wish you had more promising material to deal with in the present instance.’

‘I’ll make do,’ grunted Gently, ‘it doesn’t seem to be running out on me at the moment.’

Louey shook his head with a sort of playful sympathy. ‘I respect your attitude… it’s the attitude one would expect and look for in such a man as yourself. But honestly, Inspector, when one takes stock of the situation… for instance, this Streifer. What can you do about him? You can connect him with the murdered man in a dozen ways, you can show he was the most likely one to have done it — but what’s all that worth when you haven’t got a scrap of proof that he did it? I don’t have to remind you of our careful court procedure. In some countries Streifer would be executed out-of-hand on a tenth of the evidence… and perhaps you’ll allow, without too much injustice. But here you have to convince your jury. Here you are obliged to go to fanatical lengths to show proof and double proof. And you don’t seem to have it, Inspector. You are faced with a planned execution, the details of which have been efficiently erased. I’ve no doubt that a jury would convict Streifer of something — there must be several lesser charges you could bring — but as a betting man, Inspector, I’m willing to give you ten to one they never convict him of murdering Stratilesceul.’

Louey took a farewell puff at his cigarette and seemed about to toss it away. Then he changed his mind and with a gilded smile handed it to Gently.

‘Another one for your collection!’

Gently nodded and extinguished it carefully.

‘The previous remarks,’ continued Louey, watching him, ‘supposing you have in fact arrested Streifer…?’

Gently tucked away the sodden end without replying. Louey nodded as though that were sufficient answer.

‘And I don’t think you will, Inspector… I don’t really think you will. If he was, as you say, a member of the… what was it? A secret police? I imagine he will know his way out of a country… don’t you? Especially with the assistance we must assume he will get from his organization over here.’

Gently stuck his hands in his pockets and plodded on. He seemed completely immersed in something taking place over the pale sea-horizon.

‘It’s wrong of me,’ mused Louey, ‘I shouldn’t say it… but I can’t help feeling a little sympathy for the man.’

‘Sympathy? For a cold-blooded murderer?’

‘Not a murderer, Inspector… an executioner, I think you must call him.’

‘Stratilesceul’s hands were tied — do you sympathize with that?’

‘You’re forgetting, Inspector, we also tie a man’s hands for execution. If killing is the order, one may as well kill efficiently.’

‘But we don’t torture, Louey. Stratilesceul was burned with cigarettes.’

‘Our torture is mental, Inspector… it lasts longer, and it isn’t done for useful ends, such as eliciting information. No… I’m sorry. You must permit me to feel some sympathy for Streifer. He did what he did in the service of an ideal, rightly or wrongly… you really mustn’t equate him with even the common hangman.’

Gently’s shoulders hunched ever higher. ‘He was paid, wasn’t he… just like the common hangman?’

‘Naturally, a labourer is worthy of his hire. But the pay wasn’t his motive, you know. It wouldn’t be an adequate incentive to such risk and responsibility. Your hangman is a mere assassin… you hand him his thirty pieces of silver and say Murder; we have bound your victim. And he murders, Inspector. He has your full protection. His crime is written up to humanity and he departs to spend the blood-money. Is this the way of the man you want to hang? Is this the way of any of the men you hang?’

‘At least we kill only the killers…’

‘Is that better than killing for an ideal?’

‘It is an ideal — to protect people on their lawful occasions.’

‘If only it protected them, Inspector… if only it did! But your ideal is a pathetic fallacy, I’m afraid. Of course it’s wrong to say this… I understand your position. Your duty is to catch a criminal and judgment is elsewhere. But I want you to understand me when I say I feel a little sympathy with Streifer… we can talk together, Inspector. You are a man of intelligence.’

They had come to the end of the town, a straggle of houses on one hand, wasteground and the beach on the other. Louey paused as they came abreast with a decaying pill-box.

‘This is as far as I go, fair weather or foul.’

Gently nodded woodenly and gave his trilby a further flick. Then he turned to face the two grey eyes which rested on him confidently, almost affectionately.

‘I’m glad you made the point…’ The eyes were interrogative. ‘… about my duty. It is to catch the criminal.’

Louey’s enormous head tilted backwards and forwards almost imperceptibly.

‘And since I’m in betting company, Louey, I’ll take you at the odds. Wasn’t it ten to one you quoted?’

‘At ten to one… and Louey always pays.’

‘I’ll have a pound on. You can open my account.’

The grey eyes flashed and the big man burst into laughter.

‘You’re on, Inspector… the first policeman I ever had on my books!’

Gently quizzed him expressionlessly from the depths of his comfortless collar. ‘Let’s hope you’re lucky,’ he said, ‘let’s hope I’m not the last.’

The lonely phone-box had a tilt in it, due to the subsidence of its sandy foundation. But it was dry inside and Gently took time off to light his pipe before getting down to business. He gave headquarters’ number.

‘Get me Inspector Copping.’

Copping arrived in fairly prompt switchboard time.

‘Gently here… are we still entertaining Frenchy?’

‘Entertaining’s the word!’ came Copping’s disgusted voice. ‘She’s been yelling her head off since they brought her back… says she wants a lawyer and that we’re holding her under false pretences.’

Gently grinned in a cloud of pipe-smoke. ‘She’s got her bail… what more does she want?’

‘The cash, apparently… you seem to have pinched her at the end of the month.’

‘Well… keep her nice and cosy. Has anything else come in?’

‘Not a darned thing.’

‘Have the lab made anything of that paper?’

‘They say it’s manufactured in Bristol and used for packing mattresses. I’ve got a man going round the stores trying to match it.’