Peter Robinson - Gallows View

"Can you think of any reason why you chose to do that particular thing? Why only that could satisfy you?"

Allott hesitated and bit his lip. "Yes," he said, after a few moments. "I did it before-a long time ago when I was a boy-and I couldn't get it out of my mind."

"What happened?"

He took a deep breath and his gaze turned inward.

"We lived on a narrow street with a pub on the corner-The Barley Mow, it was called-and lots of times when I was supposed to be asleep in my room, I'd see this woman opposite walk back from the pub alone, go upstairs and undress for bed. She always left the curtains open, and I watched her.

"She was a beautiful woman and nobody in the neighborhood really knew her. She never spoke to anyone and people tended to keep away from her, as if she was cold or above them somehow. People said she was foreign, a refugee from Eastern Europe, but nobody really knew. She was always alone. She was a mystery, but I could watch her unveil herself. At first it didn't feel like much, but I suppose it was just about that time of life when you change… and over a few weeks I had strange feelings watching her, feelings I'd never had before. They scared me, but they were exciting. I suppose I started to… to play with myself, unconsciously, and I remember thinking, 'What if she sees me, what will she do? Til be in trouble then.' But in a way I wanted her to see me, too. I wanted her to know about me." He leaned forward on his chair and his liquid brown eyes began to shine as he talked.

"Did she ever see you?"

"No. One day she was just gone. Simple as that. I was devastated. I'd thought it would go on forever, that she was doing it just for me. When she left it felt as if my whole life had been smashed in pieces. Oh, I did all the usual things like the other boys, but it always felt like there was something missing-it was never as wonderful as the others made out it was, as I thought it should be. Even girls, real girls…"

"Why did you marry?"

"It was the normal thing to do. My mother helped me, arranged introductions, that kind of thing. It just didn't work, though. I was always thinking of this woman, even… I could only do it if I thought of her. When my wife left, something snapped in me. It was like a sort of fog came over my mind, but at the same time I felt free. I felt like I could do what I wanted, I didn't have to pretend anymore. Oh, I could always be with other people easily enough-I had the Camera Club and all, but it was all inside, the mist. I felt I had to find her again, recapture what I'd lost."

"And did you?"

"No."

"What was she like?"

"Beautiful. Slender and beautiful. And she had black eyebrows and long, golden-blond hair. That excited me, I don't know why. Maybe it was the contrast. Long, straight, blond hair down over her shoulders. She looked like Sandra. That's why… I wouldn't have hurt her, never. And when it had gone so far, I just couldn't go through with it." He glanced over at Banks, who lit a cigarette and looked out of the window on the bustle of the market square.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing clear. I wanted to touch her. Make love to her, I suppose. But I couldn't. Please believe me, I wouldn't have hurt her, honestly."

"But you did hurt her."

He hung his head. "I know. I'd like to tell her, say I'm sorry…"

"I don't think she wants to see you. You frightened her a great deal."

"I didn't mean to. It seemed like the only way."

"I'm not here to judge you," Jenny said.

"What's going to happen to me?"

"You need help. We'll try to help you."

"You?"

"Not me, but somebody qualified."

Robin gave a resigned nod. "I didn't mean to scare her. I would never have harmed a hair on her head, you've got to believe me. I thought it was the only way. I had to find out what it felt like to touch her, to have her in my power. But I couldn't do anything. I couldn't."

Jenny and Banks left him with a uniformed constable and walked out into the corridor. Jenny leaned against the institutional-green wall and took a deep breath, then she removed her glasses and loosened her hair.

"Well?" Banks asked.

"I think he's harmless," she said. "You heard him insist that he wouldn't have hurt Sandra. I believe him."

"But he did hurt her."

"I told him that, and I think he understood. He meant physically. What more can I say, Alan? He's suffering. Part of me hates him for what he did, but another part-the professional bit, I suppose-understands, in a way, that it's not his fault, that he needs help, not punishment." Banks nodded. "Coffee?"

"Oh, yes, please."

They walked across Market Street to the Golden Grill.

"You still seem a bit preoccupied, Alan," Jenny said, sipping her coffee. "Is there something else? I thought you'd caught enough criminals for one night."

"Lack of sleep, I suppose."

"That all?"

"Probably not. There's something bothering me, but I'm not quite sure what it is. You know we haven't got Alice Matlock's killer yet?"

"Yes."

"Allott gave us a description. It's definitely not the kids."

"So?"

"I feel that I ought to know who it is, and why. Like it's staring me in the face and I just can't bring it into focus."

"Is there some clue you can't think of?"

"No, it's nothing like that. It's a whole jumble of impressions. Not to worry, another night's sleep might do it. Maybe I'll even try an afternoon nap and hurry it along."

"So it's not all over?"

"Not yet."

"And our intrepid chief inspector won't rest until it is?" Banks smiled. "Something like that. I'll tell you one thing, though. When I moved up to Yorkshire, I sure as hell expected a softer time of it than this."

Back at the station an excited Sergeant Hatchley came rushing to meet Banks. "We've got him!" "Who?"

"Lenny Webster. The fence. Mick's brother." Banks grinned. "So London came through, then?"

"Didn't they just? Paid him a visit in the middle of the night at that address we got from the letter."

"Yes?"

"And sure enough, he was there. Babysitting an assortment of drugs-marijuana, cocaine, uppers, downers, even some heroin."

"Enough to put him away for a while?"

"Enough to put him away for a long while, sir."

"I'll bet he was intending to bring it all back up here to sell, am I right?"

"Exactly. And there's more."

"Go on."

"It seems that young Lenny's not as tough as he makes out, if you know what I mean. In fact, a little heavy leaning and he breaks down completely. First off, they've got the bloke who gave him the gun, and they found three more at his place-not duff ones, mind you. And next, Lenny sings all about his plans with Micklethwaite."

"Moxton."

"Pardon?"

"That's his real name. Moxton. Larry Moxton."

"Oh. Well, Webster knows him as Micklethwaite, and they were going to unload the stuff between them. Also, Micklethwaite put him onto the Ottershaw and Pitt jobs."

"Right, we'd better bring Larry in then, hadn't we?"

"Do you think we've got enough to nail him?"

"I think so, if we add it to what Thelma Pitt and Ottershaw have to tell us. What puzzles me is how a con man like Larry could get mixed up with a low-life thug like Webster."

"That's explained in the telex," Hatchley said. "Apparently it's through the chap who was getting the drugs for them. He'd served time with Micklethwaite, and when he heard he was going to relocate up north he put him in touch with Lenny."

"Ah, the old-boy network. Right little den of thieves we've caught, haven't we?"

Hatchley beamed, his red balloon-face glowing with success.

"Aye, we have that, sir. Oh, I almost forgot. There's a woman waiting in your office for you."

"Not…"

"No, not that Wycombe woman. I've never seen this one before. Wouldn't say who she was. Wants to see you, though."