Minette Walters - The Ice House

McLoughlin wondered how to put the next question. "And the place was empty except for this stack of bricks you mentioned?"

"What you getting at?"

"Nothing. I'm just trying to get a clear picture."

"Then yes. It was empty."

"And what happened the next morning?"

"Hung around till lunchtime, didn't I?"

"In the cave?"

"No. In the woods. Nice and peaceful, it was. Then I got to feeling peckish, so I 'opped over the wall and looked about for somefing to eat." He had knocked on several doors, without much success.

"Why didn't you buy something with your winnings?" asked McLoughlin, fascinated.

Wally was intensely scornful. "Do me a favour," he admonished. "Why pay for somefink you can get free? It's booze they won't give away. Anyway, I 'adn't much winnings left and that's a fact."

He had found a group of houses on the outskirts of Streech where "an old bat" had given him a sandwich. The council houses, McLoughlin thought. "Did you try anyone else?" he asked.

"Young lass told me to push off. Gawd knows, I sympathised wiv 'er. There was a dozen nippers yelling their 'eads off in 'er front room." He abandoned Streech as a dead duck at that point and set off down the road. After about an hour, he came to another village. "Don't recall the name, son, but there was a vicarage. Always good for a touch, they are." He had roused the Vicar's wife and persuaded her out of a cup of tea and some cake. "Nice little woman, but she came over sanctimonious. That's the trouble wiv vicarages. You can always get a bite but you has to take the lecture wiv it. I scarpered sharpish." It had begun to rain again. "Strange wevver, I can tell yer. 'Ot as blazes most of the time, but every now and then there was a funder storm. You know the sort. Fat rain, I calls it. Flashes of lightning and great claps of funder." He had looked around for shelter. "Not a blooming fing. Nice little boxes wiv neat garages. No help to me. Then I comes to this bigger house, set back a bit. I fought I'd explore the back, see if there was a shed. I sneaks down the side and lo and be'old there's just what I'm looking for, nice little shed wiv no one in sight. I opens the door and pops inside." He stopped.

"And?" prompted McLoughlin.

A cunning gleam had appeared in the old man's eyes. "Seems like I'm giving you a lot of information for nuffink, son. What's in it for me?"

"A fiver," said McLoughlin, "if what you tell me's worth it."

"Ten," said Wally. He glanced behind him at the closed door then leaned forward confidentially. "To tell you the trufe, son, it's a bit claustrophobic this place. The lady of the 'ouse does 'er best but there's no fun. Know what I mean. A tenner'd give me a day out. I've been 'ere a week for Gawd's sake. I've 'ad more fun in prison."

McLoughlin considered the morality of giving Wally the wherewithal to turn his back on Heaven's Gate and concluded that Wally was on the point of scarpering whatever happened. You can't teach an old dog new tricks. Ten pounds would give him a start at least. "Done," he said. "What happened when you went into this shed?"

"Looked around for somefink to sit on, didn't I, make meself comfortable while I was there. Found this feller 'iding at the back be'ind some boxes. When 'e realised I'd seen 'im, 'e came over all 'oity-toity and ordered me off 'is property. I arst, reasonable like, why I should imagine 'e was the owner when 'e was skulking in the shed same as me. 'E got properly riled and called me a few names. In the middle of it, this woman comes out of the kitchen door to see what the noise is. I explains the situation and she tells me the geezer's 'er 'usband and 'e's in the shed looking for a paintbrush." Wally pulled a wry face. "They must've fought I was born yesterday. The paintbrushes was all laid out neat and tidy on a workbench at the side. The geezer was 'iding, no mistake. Anyway, I sees my opportunity. They wants rid of me and they'd pay up to see me go. I got a bottle of whisky, a decent pair of shoes and twenty quid out of it. Tried for more but they turned nasty and I reckoned it was time to skedaddle. This the feller you're looking for?"

McLoughlin nodded. "Sounds like it. Can you describe him?"

Wally's brow wrinkled. "Five tennish, fat, grey 'air. E'ad nancy feet for a man. The shoes they gave me didn't 'alf pinch."

"What did the woman look like?"

"Mousey little fing, sorrowful eyes, but Gawd she 'ad a temper. Lammed into me and 'er old man somefink rotten for making a noise." He looked suddenly thoughtful. "Not that we was, mind you. Froughout the 'ole fing, we spoke in whispers." He shook his head. "Bats the pair of 'em."

McLoughlin was jubilant. Got you, Mrs. T, he thought. "Where did you go then?"

A thoughtful expression crossed Wally's face. "There's a saying, son. A bird in the 'and is worf two in the bush. It had stopped raining but I 'ad this feeling we was in for anover funder storm. I fought to meself I've a bottle o' whisky and nowhere cosy to drink it. If I push on, 'oo's to say if I'll find a dry place for the night. So I 'ightailed it back to the cave at the big 'ouse and passed a 'alfway decent night." He considered McLoughlin out of the corner of his eyes. "The next day, I finks to myself, I've a few quid in me pocket and I've 'ad nuffink decent to eat for days, so I 'eaded off towards Silverborne. There's a nice cafe on the road-"

"Did you leave anything behind?" McLoughlin cut in.

"Like what?" asked the old man sharply.

"Like the shoes?"

"Dumped 'em in the woods," said Wally scornfully. "Damn fings gave me corns a right drubbing. That's where experience comes in. A young bloke would've chucked the old pair out before 'e'd properly tried the new. Then 'e'd've been in agony till 'e found some more."

McLoughlin tucked his notebook into his pocket. "You've been a great help, Wally."

"That it?"

McLoughlin nodded.

"Where's my tenner?"

McLoughlin took a ten-pound note out of his wallet and stretched it between his fingers. "Listen to me, Wally. I'm going to give you ten pounds now as a token of good faith, but I want you to stay here another night because I may want to talk to you again. If you do, I'll come back tomorrow morning with another ten, making twenty in all." He held out the tenner. "Is it a deal?"

Wally got up and pounced on the note, secreting it in the depths of his shirt. "Are you on the level, son?"

"I'll give you an IOU if you like."

Wally made as if to spit on the carpet, then thought better of it. "Be about as much use to me as a mug of water," he said. "OK, son, it's a deal. But if you don't come back first fing, I'm off." His eyes narrowed. "Don't you go telling the lady of the 'ouse, mind. I've 'ad my fill of good works this week. They don't know when to leave a bloke alone in this place."

McLoughlin chuckled. "Your secret's safe with me, Wally."

"I spotted the pattern ," said McLoughlin to Walsh, with a tinge of irony which brought a glitter to the older man's eyes, "when I marked the houses which reported seeing the tramp." He pointed to small red crosses on the map in front of them. "If you remember, Nick Robinson had two reports. One from a woman in Clementine Cottage who said the tramp passed her house and went into the pub, which meant he was coming from the direction of Winchester. The next from the landlord at the pub who said he stayed until closing time then ambled off in the lee of the wall round the Grange estate, in other words heading towards East Deller." He traced his finger along the printed road. "The next reports we had of him were PC Williams's. He said an elderly woman had given the tramp a sandwich and a young woman had turned him away because it was her son's birthday. They both live on the council estate which is to the west of Streech and on the East Deller road. The date the young woman gave was May twenty-seventh. But when we spoke to Mrs. Thompson she told us he'd visited them in East Deller on the twenty-fourth. That would have meant he had doubled back on himself for some reason to come through Streech three days later from the direction of Winchester."