James Benn - A Blind Goddess

“Gentlemen,” Payne began, “let me introduce Blackie Crane. Constable Cook said you’d like a word.”

“Thought I ought to see what’s holding up traffic on the canal,” Blackie said, without taking his eyes from the maneuvers. “Not a bad view, is it?” I could see where Blackie got his name. Coal dust coated his hands, clothes, and hair. From what I could see of his face, his pores were clogged with the stuff.

“I found him with his barge, tied up by the Hog’s Head Pub,” Payne said, turning in his seat to face us. “I thought it best to bring him along before opening time, otherwise we might not get much out of him.”

“Not much else to do, Inspector, with the Yanks closing down the canal, now is there?” Blackie kept his eyes glued on the Common as vehicles raced about, churning up soil as they spun their treads. “Bloody good show, though.” He interrupted his viewing long enough to light a cigarette, striking a wooden match with his thumbnail. I was relieved when we all didn’t go up in an explosion of coal dust.

“Mr. Crane,” Kaz said. “We understand you are one of the few canal men who run at night.”

“Cor! What have we here, a foreigner? Not enough to have Yanks all about, is it?” Crane addressed this remark to the air, and I wondered if he’d started his drinking early.

“Polish, Mr. Crane. And unused to your damp climate, I must add. So I have enjoyed being warmed by your excellent coal at the Hog’s Head.”

“You have, have you?” Crane turned in his seat, giving Kaz his full attention. Everyone likes to be flattered. “Old Jack Monk buys from me. We used to pass each other on the canal, back when he was on the water. Now he likes to have a good supply on hand. Folks drink more when they don’t have a chill going through their bones.”

“Perhaps we will have a drink there when we are done here. You have worked the route from Pewsey to Reading a number of years,” Kaz said, holding out the promise of free booze. “You must know the water well.”

“Indeed I do. When I sell the last of my load, I turn back and try to make it home in one run. Nighttime is tricky with the blackout and all, but you’ve got the canal to yourself. Give me a bit of moonlight and I can be back in Pewsey in no time.” He grinned, and the creases on his face showed in lines of coal dust.

“Did Inspector Payne tell you what we wanted to ask you?” I said. Blackie was the talkative type, too talkative. He was the kind of guy that might lead in whatever direction he thought you wanted to go, especially with the promise of a drink at the other end. Kaz was smart appealing to Blackie’s vanity, but dangling that pint out in front of him was dangerous.

“No, only the night in question. I recall it well, perfect half-moon, brilliant light to guide me home. I’d made my last delivery and came through Newbury a bit after midnight. I remember hearing the churchbell toll from a ways out.”

“Not many people out that time of night, I’d guess,” I said. Outside the car, a few people were drifting by, the action having moved farther away.

“No, not many. So why don’t we adjourn to the Hog’s Head?” Blackie said. “So I can get underway when the canal’s opened.”

“Not many, you said. Does that mean no one?”

“Listen, Yank, if I meant no one I’d of said no one. You should have manners like your Polish friend here.”

“Steady on, Blackie,” Payne said. “He’s got his job to do, just like you do.”

“Was the water high that night?” Kaz asked, jumping in to keep Blackie calm.

“Aye, it was. There’d been a hard rain, and the river that feeds into the canal was at a rage, it was. But the canal is smooth, no matter how much water she carries.”

“Do you remember who you saw out in Newbury that night?” Kaz asked. “Along the embankment.”

“No, not really. I mean that I did see two men, not far from the Hog’s Head, downstream. They were arguing, I could tell since one of them was pointing his finger hard at the other fellow’s chest. But I didn’t know them, by sight or by name.”

“But would you recognize either one of them?” I asked.

“Oh sure, since one of them cursed me.”

“Why?” Kaz asked.

“Oh, the water. Like I said, it was high, and I had a full head of steam up. Probably going faster than I should of, especially with an empty boat and it being the middle of town. But it was late, and I wanted to get home.”

“What do you mean, the water?” I asked. I didn’t want to give Blackie the answer, I wanted to hear it from him.

“The wake, man, are you daft or simple? The wake kicked up onto the embankment, right where they were standing. Gave their trousers a good soaking I did. Might have laughed at the sight of them, caught up in their argument and then splashed by old Blackie! One of them shook his fist and cursed at me, and the other walked off, none too happy himself.”

“So you’d recognize one of them?” I asked.

“The one who raised his fist to me, sure I would. He had his collar up and wore a cloth cap, but I got a good look at his face. Walked a bit stooped over, as well. The other fellow, maybe not. He didn’t look at me for very long.”

“He walked back to the house,” Payne said. Blackie nodded, and we all knew what he had witnessed. The last seconds of Stuart Neville’s life.

“Can you describe the other man, the one who cursed at you? His face, I mean,” Payne said.

“Close to your age, Inspector. Shorter, stooped over, like I said. Big cheeks, like he was well fed. Sort of like that gent,” Blackie said, pointing to the crowd streaming by the car.

“Which one, man?” Payne demanded.

“Cor, if it ain’t him! That one, with the pony! I’ll swear to it.” Blackie raised his hand, his coal smudged finger pointing straight at Ernest Bone.

Bone saw Blackie Crane pointing directly at him. His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and then he bolted, but not before he slapped his pony hard on the rump and sent him trotting into the crowd, the cart barreling along behind him as people stumbled out of the way, shouting and cursing, creating exactly the kind of confusion Bone wanted. He had betrayed no surprise, no shock of wonderment or bemusement at being singled out. It was a rapid, calculated decision to run. He had the look of a practiced criminal who knew the jig was up. A murderer. Worse. I should have tumbled to it sooner. Seeing him with the girls had started the wheels turning, but not soon enough for a nice quiet arrest.

Payne and I were out of the car immediately, our cop’s sense sending us running before our brains caught up with what we’d seen. Kaz was behind us and for all I knew Blackie was still staring at his finger. The road was filled with people walking back to town. The pony cart had created enough chaos that the crowd was milling about, asking what had happened, what all the fuss was about, and why had Mr. Bone run away? Payne and I pushed people aside, trying to spot our quarry in the tumult.

I caught a glimpse of him, weaving through the throng, heads turning as he rushed past. His cloth cap blew off, his bald head with its low ring of dark hair now a clear marker. The noise of the crowd was pierced by a child’s shriek, and we pushed through to find Miss Ross on the ground, holding one of her students, luckily with no injuries other than badly skinned knees.

“He ran through the girls, knocked them over,” Laurianne shouted, pointing down the lane with one hand and cradling the head of a dazed girl with the other. We followed her lead, and I was glad to see the crowd had thinned out, only a few stragglers left watching the distant maneuvers. I looked up to where the road switched back on itself as it ascended, expecting to see Bone making for the fields and woods beyond. There was no sight of him.