Alan Hunter - Gently Does It

The waitress came back smiling with an interesting-looking tray. Gently called for rolls and went stolidly to work on his mixed grill. He ate seriously and with enjoyment. Food was one of those dependable pleasures, like smoking.

He thought of Gretchen. Had he been right with that shot in the dark, about her being pregnant? It had shaken Fisher, at all events, and confirmed Gently’s belief that he was her lover. But why should he have expressed fear? If it was his plan now to marry Gretchen and succeed to the old man, surely to have got her pregnant would have been a step in the right direction? But he was afraid that it was so, and that Gently should know it… why? Was there something in Hansom’s far-fetched notion after all — had the murder of Nicholas Huysmann been the concerted act of his daughter and his chauffeur?

Gretchen, he thought again. Gretchen. Perhaps his best chance lay there. But Gretchen wouldn’t talk any more than Fisher… and in her present situation, to bring any sort of pressure to bear on her was distasteful. Yet… could Hansom have hit it?

The music lilted some far-off tune of Gently’s youth, something connected with people and places unspeakably remote. He laid down his knife and fork. The waitress, who had been watching, came forward directly and removed the plate, wondering why Gently shook his head. Several people came in at that moment and stood looking for tables. Secure in his nook, Gently looked them over. Townspeople going to a show and having tea out… and then his eyebrows lifted the merest shade. One of the newcomers was Susan.

But Susan was on her own. Also, she seemed to be in a little ‘state’ about something. She ignored the waitress who wanted to fit her in a large table and with a toss of her sweeping blonde locks made for a smaller one near Gently’s own.

‘But we are keeping that table for two of our regulars, madam…’

‘There’s no “reserved” notice on it, is there?’

‘It is their usual table, madam…’

‘A pot of tea and some cakes.’

The waitress shrugged and moved away. Gently indulged in a smile. Someone had let Susan down, he thought, she’s all dressed up with nowhere to go… is Mr Leaming the culprit? He took delivery of his fruit salad and ate it thoughtfully. How much did Susan know about Fisher and Gretchen? She seemed to be a good deal in Gretchen’s confidence, one way or another… in fact, most of the clandestine comings and goings in the Huysmann house revolved round Susan. Gently eyed her interestedly over his peaches and cherries. She was dressed to go somewhere, without a doubt. She wore a rather expensive black creation that clung to her challengingly, nylons and a red swagger coat which also looked expensive. Her face was made-up heavily but with taste. She wore a silver bracelet, pearls and a diamond ring which might have been genuine. She was quite something, if the sulky expression of her face hadn’t spoiled it all.

Gently ate on through his cheese and biscuits and drank his coffee. Why had Leaming turned Susan up — if it was Leaming, and it was unlikely to have been anyone else? Lover’s quarrel, perhaps? Susan trying to exceed her market value? Or was it something more interesting and relevant?

He lit his pipe and moved over to Susan’s table.

‘Good evening, Miss Stibbons. Are you expecting someone?’ he asked paternally.

Susan looked up from an eclair. ‘Oh! Good evening, Inspector… no, I’m not expecting anybody.’

Gently sat down in the vacant chair. ‘I like this restaurant,’ he said, ‘it’s comfortable and friendly. Is this your evening off, Miss Stibbons?’

Susan gave a little shrug. ‘I get most evenings,’ she said.

‘You don’t know how fortunate you are. In my business we’re supposed to be on duty twenty-four hours a day… though of course, there’d be a riot if anyone tried to enforce it. But we get enough dumped on us at one time or another. Were you going to the pictures?’

‘I was,’ said Susan, aggrievedly.

‘I believe the picture at the Regent is quite good. I heard one of the men talking about it.’

‘That’s the one I was going to see.’

Gently took out his watch. ‘You’ve still time, if you hurry.’

Susan shrugged again. ‘I’m not going, now…’

Gently puffed a few smoke-rings. ‘I should,’ he said. ‘It’ll cheer you up no end.’

‘I don’t want to be cheered up.’

‘Oh come, now, it can’t be so bad as that. What happened, Miss Stibbons?’ Gently leaned forward like a tender father preparing to make all well.

‘I don’t know what happened. It wasn’t anything I said.’ She looked up at him, her blue eyes charged with injured innocence. ‘He just told me he’d finished with me — just like that!’

Gently tut-tutted. ‘But there must have been a reason?’

‘There wasn’t, Inspector, no reason at all. He picked me up like he always does and we came up here to have a drink at Backs. He was quiet-like, but I didn’t take much notice — he’s often like that.’

‘What happened then?’

‘When we came out there he suddenly went all stiff — you know — but I hadn’t said anything at all! He stood there for a bit by the car and then he suddenly said, “It’s been nice knowing you, Susan, but it’s all over now. We’re through,” he said, “this has got to end right here.” And then he got in the car and went off, and left me flat!’

Gently shook his head sympathetically. ‘Perhaps he didn’t mean it. Mr Leaming’s got a lot on his mind just now.’

‘But he did mean it! He knows I wouldn’t stand for that sort of treatment — and I’m not going to!’ She forked viciously at a meringue.

‘He may have had an appointment.’

‘He didn’t say anything about appointments.’

‘Well… these things happen. I wouldn’t take it to heart. There’s always someone else round the corner, you know.’

‘He may find that out before long.’

Gently smiled encouragingly. ‘This business has upset a lot of things, my dear, and affected a lot of people. Take Miss Gretchen, for example.’

Susan mangled a section of meringue and thrust it into her mouth. ‘Miss Gretchen’s all right,’ she said, creamily.

‘From a material point of view, I suppose she is.’

‘It turned out just right for her. I don’t know what she’d have done if it hadn’t happened, and that’s a fact.’

Gently turned the less-attacked side of the dish of cakes towards the waiting fork. ‘How do you mean?’ he asked casually.

‘Well… she was always kept at home… she didn’t understand.’

‘What didn’t she understand?’

‘You know how it is.’

Gently puffed some smoke at a bulb which gleamed dully behind its mock-parchment. ‘In trouble, is she?’

‘You’ll see, if you’re here long enough.’

‘How long is that?’

Susan frowned prettily over some green marzipan. ‘’Bout October, I shouldn’t be surprised. Somewhere about then. I warned her, you know, but it was too late then — I didn’t know about the first once or twice. After that, of course, there wasn’t much point in being careful.’

‘Is she really in love with him?’

‘What — with Fisher?’ Susan sniffed scornfully. ‘I shouldn’t think so. He goes around with anybody — he tried to get me, but I wasn’t having any… she was just having him because she couldn’t get anybody else.’

‘Has this business made any difference?’

‘Oh, she won’t speak to him now. She won’t have anything to do with him. If you ask me, he isn’t going to be chauffeur at our place much longer.’

‘How does he take it?’

‘He doesn’t care.’

‘I wondered if he’d started getting ideas.’