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Authors: Alan Hunter

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BOOK: Gently Sinking
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‘I don’t know, sir,’ Stout said. ‘She looks nice.’

Tallent scowled at him, at the photograph.

‘I don’t know how you figure it, sir,’ he said to Gently. ‘But she had the knife, no getting round that. And she’s the one who left town.’

‘She had it once,’ Gently said. ‘She may not still have had it on Tuesday.’

‘So Taylor had it,’ Tallent said. ‘She gave it back to him. One or both it has to be.’

Gently shrugged. ‘Suppose she had broken with Blackburn.’

Tallent shook his head. ‘I don’t go for that. I’d say it was Sunshine trying to whitewash her, get the heat off his sister. But say it’s true, she could still have made a feint to get at Blackburn, kidding him their deal was on again. Maybe setting it up with Taylor.’

‘Would that be necessary?’

Tallent looked at Gently.

‘Taylor could have done it anywhere,’ Gently said. ‘Outside the club, outside the flat. It would have been easier, more anonymous.

‘So,’ Tallent said, ‘eliminate Taylor. Say his being around was coincidence. That leaves the girl, which is how I read it. Unless Taylor did bust in like I said out there.’

‘Not that,’ Gently said. ‘She wouldn’t have run. Or Taylor wouldn’t have let her live.’

‘So she’s alive, did run,’ Tallent said. ‘Taylor’s out. Leaving her.’

‘And the motive?’

‘Christ knows,’ Tallent said. ‘Maybe she did lose someone on the ship. Maybe Blackburn did her wrong. Find her, we’ll find the motive.’

‘She just doesn’t look a killer, sir,’ Stout said. ‘She looks . . . well . . . sort of nice-natured.’

‘Yeah,’ Tallent said. ‘Only you can’t trust her kind.’

‘Well, I know some . . .’ Stout began, then stopped.

Gently moved to the small window, looked out at the wet grime of the railway wall.

‘A couple of things,’ he said. ‘One is that neither Osgood nor Grey were at the club here on Tuesday evening.’

‘Does that mean anything, sir?’ Tallent said.

‘Probably not,’ Gently said. ‘The other is that Grey was so informative about Aaron Taylor and Miss Sunshine. Of course, it may have been on the level. Grey is slick enough to make a deal. But if he intended to hand us a wrong angle, then he’s done a good job.’

‘Yeah,’ Tallent said, scowling at Gently’s back. ‘Only I don’t see how it’s a wrong angle. The facts check.’

‘They’d have to,’ Gently said. ‘Otherwise there’d be no point in the attempt.’

‘So,’ Tallent said, ‘where’s the catch?’

Gently shrugged. ‘There may not be one. Simply that while we’re concentrating on the one angle we may be overlooking another.’

‘Like some third party killed Blackburn?’

‘That’s the suggestion,’ Gently said.

‘Like maybe Grey, if his alibi’s faked?’

‘Grey may have had motive,’ Gently said.

Tallent shook his head. ‘I don’t buy it, sir,’ he said. ‘Grey was too cocky. He knew he was safe. And he didn’t know about the knife, about Taylor being at Chiswick, about Sadie Sunshine skipping, none of that. We found that out.’

‘So we did,’ Gently said.

‘Well, it’s all corroborative, sir,’ Tallent said. ‘And if the dabs here check with the dabs at the flat, sexy Sadie is in it up to her neck.’

‘She’ll certainly have explaining to do,’ Gently said.

‘Yeah,’ Tallent said, smoothing his hands.

They drove back to HQ in the Sceptre, taking along with them the shivering Taylor. Stout stayed behind to get a list from the Sunshines of the customers they remembered being at the club on Tuesday evening. From Sharkey they’d also got two more photographs, one showing Sadie at full length, and from Sarah Sunshine a reluctant description of the clothes Sadie had been wearing when she left. For dab samples, Gently had taken the
Après moi . . .
and the silver-backed brushes.

At HQ they found Makin. The sad-faced man met them eagerly.

‘You were right, sir,’ he said to Gently. ‘Immigration did have those dabs on record—’

‘We know, we know,’ Tallent cut him off.

‘But I’ve got the woman’s identity, sir!’

‘Look,’ Tallent said, pushing the scent-bottle and brushes at him, ‘just take these and do your job on them.’

‘But . . .’ Makin said, grabbing the package.

‘Wait,’ Gently said. ‘What name did they give you?’

‘Sadie Sunshine,’ Makin said. ‘I have the address—’

‘He’s so bright,’ Tallent said. ‘Now he’s so bright.

They left Taylor in the charge-room while Tallent gave Sadie’s details to Information. They went to his office. From a locked drawer in a cabinet Tallent took a sheath-knife with a label tied to it. He laid the sheath-knife in a desk-tray on top of a pile of papers. He took his seat behind the desk, rang for Taylor to be brought in.

Taylor was brought. Tallent stopped him at the door.

‘Just stand there a minute, boy,’ he said. ‘This is my office. You take a good look at it. Maybe you’ll spend a lot of time in this room.’

‘Yes, sir, yes, sir,’ Taylor mumbled, his eyes rolling.

‘So you get to know it,’ Tallent said. ‘Keep looking.’

‘Yes, sir, I’m looking,’ Taylor said. ‘I’m looking, sir.’

‘That’s a good boy,’ Tallent said. ‘What do you see?’

Taylor gaped, his eyes still going. Then he spotted the knife. He grabbed his breath in a moan.

‘You’re good, boy,’ Tallent said. ‘You case a room real sharp. That your knife?’

‘Th-that sure is like it.’

‘Whadyamean – like it?’

Taylor gulped. ‘It’s mine.’

‘Yeah,’ Tallent said. ‘Okay.’ He picked the knife out of the tray.

‘Hold it,’ Gently said. He turned to Taylor. ‘These knives are pretty common,’ he said. ‘Were there any marks on the one you owned?’

‘I – I sure disremember, sir,’ Taylor said.

Gently took the knife. ‘Say on the blade?’

‘I – I cain’t remember the blade . . .’

‘Did you ever use your knife, say, for lifting tacks?’

Taylor’s eyes stilled. ‘Yeh – yeh!’ he said. ‘I did do that, sir. I pulled up some tacks with it. There’s surely a nick some place on the blade.’

Gently handed him the knife. ‘Like this?’ he said.

‘Oh gosh, yes – that’s the very same knife!’

Tallent took the knife again, laid it on the desk.

‘Take a seat, sonny,’ he said.

Taylor slumped on a chair.

‘Now,’ Tallent said. ‘Fast answers, boy. That’s your knife. We found it in Blackburn. If you didn’t stick it there, tell us who did.’

‘But sir, if I knew—’

‘You know,’ Tallent said. ‘That’s one sure thing. You know who did it.’

‘I’m telling you, sir—’

‘It has to be you.’

‘No, sir, I never—’

‘Then it was your ex-girlfriend.’

Taylor stared at Tallent huge-eyed for a space, then hid his face in his massive hands.

‘Oh Lord, no, no!’ he snivelled in a falsetto. ‘That cain’t be true. That cain’t be true.’

‘Still love her, do you, boy?’ Tallent jeered. ‘You better start facing facts, sonny. She’s a no-good whoring promiscuous bitch, and a no-hoper like you couldn’t run her.’

‘You just don’t talk that way!’ Taylor screamed, jumping up.

‘Siddown,’ Tallent said, striking the desk. ‘I talk any way I please in here, sonny. You better learn that good and fast.’

‘Sadie ain’t what you’re saying – she ain’t.’

‘Are you going to sit down?’ Tallent said.

‘She ain’t bad. She ain’t a whore.’

‘Listen,’ Tallent said. ‘My hands don’t bruise easily.’

Taylor sat.

‘That’s better,’ Tallent said. ‘Just don’t go hysterical on this policeman. Especially with a knife lying on the desk. It might give me excuses. I might need them.’

‘Oh Lord, she never did that,’ Taylor said.

‘You hope,’ Tallent said. ‘But you don’t sound happy.’

‘She never, never did,’ Taylor said. He covered his face with his hands again.

Tallent picked up the knife. He began paring his nails with it.

‘Let’s look at some points, boy,’ he said. ‘Sadie wasn’t in the club Tuesday evening. So like where would Sadie be?’

Taylor groaned.

‘That’s right,’ Tallent said. ‘Where was Sadie when she wasn’t at home? With the stink of her scent all over Blackburn’s flat, and her dabs there too – especially in the bedroom?’

‘But she is washed-up with that man—’ Taylor quavered.

Tallent laughed. ‘I heard Sharkey saying it. I heard Sharkey saying she was in the club all evening – but you didn’t see her there, did you, boy?’

‘I know she ain’t been seeing that Blackburn.’

‘You weren’t so certain on Tuesday, sonny.’

‘But she ain’t been with him before that – ten days, a fortnight she ain’t been there.’

‘Now we’re learning,’ Tallent said. ‘So you’ve been watching that flat, have you? Every night, under the limetree. Angry Aaron, the boy with the knife.’

‘I didn’t have no knife!’

‘I was forgetting,’ Tallent said. ‘Sadie had the knife. In her handbag. For two, three months. Always took it to Blackburn’s flat.’

‘She didn’t . . .’ Taylor hesitated, fingers on his sweaty brow.

‘Didn’t have the knife?’

‘What for would she have it . . . all that time . . . in her handbag?’

‘Yeah,’ Tallent said. ‘Yeah, that’s nice. Keep pushing your brains with your fingers, sonny. Maybe she didn’t have it at that. Why keep a knife like that in a handbag? So what would she do with it?’

‘I sure don’t know—’

‘Oh, come on, now,’ Tallent said.

‘I don’t know!’ Taylor said. ‘I guess she got rid of it.’

‘Sure she did,’ Tallent said. ‘Back to you.’

‘She never did that!’

‘Oh yes,’ Tallent said. ‘That nice girl Sadie didn’t keep your knife. She might have had it off you when you flipped, but then she gave it back. It checks, boy.’

‘No,’ Taylor said. ‘No, sir.’

‘Sure, sure,’ Tallent said. ‘But it checks. You had that knife, that knife killed Blackburn, you were there. It checks.’

Taylor sobbed into his hands.

‘Let’s reconstruct it,’ Tallent said. ‘There wasn’t any break between Sadie and Blackburn, that’s a load of Sharkey’s eyewash. She was still cutting it out at the flat, and you knew she was, because you were watching. And Tuesday night you flipped again, just the way you flipped before. You slid round the back and up the steps and through the flat, and caught them at it. So you cut him. It was dark in there. She wouldn’t know anything till Blackburn flaked on her. By then you were out of the flat and clear, and she maybe doesn’t know now who did it. She could guess, and she saw the knife-handle, but she didn’t know. And she didn’t want to be questioned. How am I doing, sonny?’

‘No, no!’ Taylor sobbed.

‘Yeah, it’s understandable,’ Tallent said. ‘You had provocation, that’s plain enough. The jury may recommend mercy on that.’

‘You’s just so wrong!’ Taylor sobbed.

‘No, I’m not wrong,’ Tallent said. ‘You can’t hide these things, boy. That’s the mistake all killers make. So now we know, now it’s out, you better play along and tell me everything. That way you’ll make me a friend, boy, and you sure need a friend just now. Come on, now. You’ll feel better.’

‘But I ain’t d’guilty one!’ Taylor sobbed.

‘So you and Sadie did it,’ Tallent said. ‘That’s okay with me, I can understand. You’ll do all right. You tell me.’

‘Oh Lord, no, no!’ Taylor sobbed. ‘It ain’t so. None of it ain’t so.’

‘You stupid bloody fool,’ Tallent said. ‘And me here trying to be your friend.’

He slammed the knife back in the tray.

‘Anything to ask him, sir?’ he said to Gently.

Gently shook his head. ‘Nothing. You can turn him loose now.’

Tallent went stiff. ‘Turn him loose?’

Gently nodded. ‘And provide him with transport.’

Tallent stared a long time at Gently. His eyes dropped. ‘All right,’ he said to the attending constable. ‘You heard what the Superintendent said.’

The door closed behind Taylor. Tallent got up and went to the window. In the M/T yard outside the window somebody was revving a car engine. Tallent threw up the window, bawled through it. The engine was cut. He closed the window. He came back into the room, stood staring at a duty roster that was pinned to the door with red-capped drawing-pins.

‘You didn’t like how I handled that, sir,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you haven’t liked how I’ve handled any of the case up to now.’

Gently said nothing.

‘Perhaps,’ Tallent said, ‘I should ask to be taken off this case. Let you run it how you want. Maybe that would be best for everyone.’

‘Come and sit down again,’ Gently said.

‘I know pretty well,’ Tallent said, ‘when I’m not wanted. You don’t want me. You’ve been against me ever since you walked in. I could feel it. We don’t click. You think I’m just a loud-mouthed bastard. I can’t do anything right, for you. And you’re the boss. So I’d better drop out.’

‘I can’t talk to your back,’ Gently said.

‘You can’t talk to me, period,’ Tallent said. ‘We don’t have a common bloody language, sir, just between us and the four walls.’

‘Well, come and sit down,’ Gently said.

‘I want to have this out, sir,’ Tallent said.

‘Of course, we both do,’ Gently said. ‘Come and sit down.’

Tallent stalked to his chair.

Gently scratched a light for his pipe, blew a couple of rings towards Tallent.

‘You were a boxing man,’ he said. ‘Haven’t I seen your name on the area championship shield?’

‘So what?’ Tallent said.

‘So that’s a high standard,’ Gently said. ‘It takes more than beef to become a champion. It takes discipline, intelligence, the imagination to read a fight, the skill to exploit an opponent’s style. A good champion is a good policeman.’

‘I was a bad champion,’ Tallent said.

‘I didn’t see your fights,’ Gently said. ‘I’d say you were a good one, just meeting you today for the first time.’

‘So I’ve gone back,’ Tallent said. ‘I was a good champion, I’m a bad policeman.’

‘That isn’t my reading,’ Gently said. ‘I’ve been wondering how you’d shape if you joined us.’

‘If I joined who?’ Tallent’s small eyes jumped.

‘If you joined us,’ Gently said. ‘That’s a possible step for an ambitious officer. We’re always short of likely material.’

BOOK: Gently Sinking
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