Gently Floating (15 page)

Parfitt stared with hooked-up eyebrows. ‘The bridge,’ he said. ‘They wouldn’t want to go under it. There’d still be traffic, people going over it, might’ve been the local copper standing on it.’

‘So why not upstream?’ Gently said.

Parfitt hesitated longer. ‘I wouldn’t know,’ he said. ‘Unless they were planning to make it look like an accident, wanted to keep it close by the yard.’

Gently said to Joyce: ‘Have you any ideas, Constable?’

‘No sir,’ Joyce said. ‘I’m afraid I can’t figure it, sir.’

‘That makes two of us then,’ Gently said. ‘After we’ve got him dead I can’t figure it either.’

‘But damn it,’ Parfitt said, ‘there must be a way. It was all laid on, the boat, the river. It’s all tidied up apart from a detail. We don’t know how their minds worked. Perhaps they were trying to put it on the Speltons.’

‘Perhaps, perhaps,’ Gently said. ‘I’m still in the hallway with the body. Or maybe the body’s still on his feet and nobody’s come out to pick up the doorstop. Or maybe somebody’s come out but not to pick up the doorstop, only to break up the rough-house, to try to talk to them. And they did talk and French walked out of that bungalow and the doorstop was put back beside the door.’

‘You’re not serious,’ Parfitt said.

‘Yes I’m serious,’ Gently said.

‘But then how was he killed with the doorstop?’ Parfitt said.

‘That’s it,’ Gently said. ‘How was he killed with the doorstop?’

Parfitt stared a long time.

‘Did you heft the doorstop?’ Gently said.

‘Yes,’ Parfitt said. ‘It would kill an elephant. I could kill an elephant with that doorstop.’

‘How did you hold it when you hefted it?’ Gently said.

‘Well, by the shank,’ Parfitt said. ‘Just below the stock, in the bight of the cable.’

‘So as to make a club of it,’ Gently said.

‘Yes,’ Parfitt said, ‘a club.’

‘You didn’t hold it by the base,’ Gently said, ‘not by that irregular shell pattern where the weight is.’

‘Well,’ Parfitt said, ‘no.’

‘Yet that’s what we’re supposing,’ Gently said. ‘That somebody did just that. Took an awkward hold on the heavy end of the stop and fractured French’s skull with the light end. But that’s impossible. I tried it. You can’t get the weight of the stop behind the blow. It’s like holding a vice with a hammer in it and trying to knock in nails with the hammer. The inertia of the weight is against you, it takes the power out of the blows.’

Parfitt kept on staring. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘then it was thrown. It was thrown once, it could be thrown again. Somebody picked it up and threw it.’

‘But the same thing applies,’ Gently said. ‘You couldn’t get the weight behind one of those knobs. If one of them struck anything it would merely spin the stop round, it’s only the base that can do any damage.’

‘But the stock was bent,’ Parfitt said. ‘It could fall on the stock hard enough to bend it.’

‘Yes,’ Gently said, ‘by falling on the stock at an angle. Not by falling on the flat face of the knob. We’re dealing with a completely round fracture, the weal in the lino is semi-circular. Not by wielding, throwing or dropping the stop can you produce the sort of fracture that killed Harry French.’

Parfitt got up. They were in the Country Club manager’s office. Parfitt walked over to the window, looked out at the scene. Two red double-decked buses were filling up opposite the window, the sun fell through the window, the sun was hot. Parfitt stood some moments in the sun watching the buses filling up. Then he turned, came back to his chair, sat. He said:

‘So we’re back where we started from are we? No arrests, no weapon, nothing to show. I can tear up this warrant and throw it in the river. And give the Lidneys their lino back and apologize for cutting a hole in their wall.’

Gently shrugged, got out his pipe, filled the pipe, lit it, broke the match. ‘Yes, it’s disappointing,’ he said. ‘At one time I thought we had a case there.’

‘But there is a case there,’ Parfitt said. ‘Hell’s bells, there is a case. French went to the bungalow, there was violence, we know why, we can sew it up. I don’t give a damn about the bloody doorstop, let them fight that out in court. I know the way the jury will see it. There’s a case, let the Lidneys answer it.’

Gently puffed. ‘Stop thinking about juries,’ he said. ‘First you’ve to convince the public prosecutor. You’ve got to tell him things you can’t prove.’

‘What can’t we prove?’ Parfitt said. ‘We can prove enough to tie it up. So some of it’s circumstantial, what does it matter? How can it be anything else?’

‘You can’t prove,’ Gently said, ‘that French was ever in the bungalow. You can’t prove his son was there. You can’t prove he had reason for seeking his son there. Those are the points in chief in the case against the Lidneys and until you can prove one or more of them it’s no use taking the case to the public prosecutor. All we can show is that French was near the bungalow, that there are signs of a recent struggle in the bungalow, that John French’s alibi is improbable, and that he may have had some trouble with his inheritance. None of which would get a conviction if it was ever aired in a court.’

‘Hell, hell,’ Parfitt said. He raised a hand. ‘Wait a minute,’ he said. ‘That bit about John French’s inheritance – we can lay that on the line.’

‘How?’ Gently said.

‘Laskey and Laskey, the solicitors,’ Parfitt said. ‘They can tell us what Harry French was up to, that’ll be one of your points proved.’

Gently puffed.

‘Well, won’t it?’ Parfitt said.

‘The operative word is
can
,’ Gently said. ‘No doubt the solicitors can tell us, but I can think of no reason why they will.’

‘But damn it, this is a murder case,’ Parfitt said.

‘That’s just the objection,’ Gently said. ‘Their late client is deceased, but their present client is implicated. It’s a nice professional question where their loyalty ought to lie, but dead clients don’t write cheques. I imagine they’ll consider their information privileged.’

Parfitt got off his chair again.

‘Still, have you got their number?’ Gently said.

‘It’ll be no use,’ Parfitt said. ‘I know Herbert Laskey, I play golf with him. If there’s a reason for being awkward you’ve picked the man to be awkward.’

‘Yes,’ Gently said, ‘but French may have filed an injunction. That’s a matter of record, they’ll have to tell us that.’

Detective Constable Joyce looked up the number. Gently dialled. They waited. Gently introduced himself to the telephone, asked for Herbert Laskey, waited. Then he said:

‘Yes good morning. It’s to do with the death of Harry French. We think you have some information which may be of use to us. Relating to the late Mrs French’s estate. I want to know if you can give me that information. Not over the phone, I can call round.’

Time passed. Gently said:

‘Yes indeed. Of course. Yes. Then perhaps you can save me time on a matter of record. Have you lately filed an injunction for Harry French?’

Time passed. Gently said:

‘No thank you. That’s all.’ He hung up, made a face at Parfitt. ‘What’s Laskey’s handicap?’ he said.

‘There wasn’t an injunction,’ Parfitt said.

Gently shook his head. ‘It was an outside chance. From our talk I should guess there was one pending but none was filed. So that’s dead.’

‘Then where do we go?’ Parfitt said. ‘If this isn’t good enough we’ve come to a wall. We know what we know but we can’t prove it and there are no angles. So where do we go?’

‘It’s a stage,’ Gently said. ‘At this point we go on making motions. Keep leaning. Go and lean on Lidney. Keep putting him through it and putting him through it.’

‘You want me to do that?’ Parfitt said.

‘Yes,’ Gently said, ‘I want him softened.’

‘That’s me,’ Parfitt said. ‘I’d soften rhinoceros hide. That’s just my mood. I’d soften a steamroller.’

Thus: while Inspector Parfitt and Detective Constable Joyce went to interview Sid Lidney Superintendent Gently relit his pipe and strolled across to French’s yard. He went nowhere particular in the yard and he spoke or sought to speak with no one but he glanced occasionally at the lazy house flag and once at the river which was sleepily flooding. The flag was lifting only at the leech and the leech pointed southerly across the river but every so often the leech flickered westerly and the bulk of the flag rippled and swayed: so that a yacht creeping up on the flood was now winded now unwinded with her main sheet sometimes dripping clear sometimes trailing in the water. Gently also watched this yacht. It took a long time to reach the quays. When it turned up to moor it was headed directly and lost all way and needed quanting in. The name
Brownie 2
was carved in its transom and below the name Starmouth and the initials of a club. It was sailed by a bearded man. He had no crew. Gently went over to the quay. The man glanced at him. Gently said:

‘Slow work this morning.’

‘Yes,’ the bearded man said, ‘the wind’s flukey.’

‘Getting a bit of east in it,’ Gently said.

‘It’ll be a tack up to Marsey,’ the bearded man said.

‘Will it take you long?’ Gently said.

‘Hmn,’ the bearded man said, snatching with his head. ‘I’ll be using the motor. I’ve a seagull in the forepeak. Unless the wind freshens. Which it won’t.’

‘Is it a tack to Hickstead?’ Gently said.

‘Not down the broad,’ the bearded man said.

‘How long would it take to sail to Hickstead?’ Gently said.

‘Quanting or sailing?’ the bearded man said.

‘Just sail alone,’ Gently said.

‘Well,’ the bearded man said, ‘you might make it by teatime, if you had enough patience. But if the tide turns before you cross the Sounds you won’t make it at all. You going for a sail?’

‘I’m thinking of it,’ Gently said.

‘Well, take a quant with you,’ the bearded man said, ‘or better still take an outboard.’

‘Would you describe the wind as a light variable north-easterly?’ Gently said.

‘In polite society,’ the bearded man said, ‘provided you’re using capital letters. Provided the capital letters are italics and a foot high and painted with dayglo. Otherwise you’d describe it as a bloody stinker and be guilty of crass understatement.’

‘Thank you,’ Gently said. ‘I just wanted an opinion.’

‘I’m two hours out from the Lion dyke,’ the bearded man said, ‘and that’s my opinion in a nutshell.’

He turned, began getting sail off. Gently nodded, left the quay. The leech of the house flag was plucking westerly but without strength to pull the bunt after it. Gently crossed the yard to the waste ground behind it where the
Kiama
lay black among her oil drums. The
Kiama
looked tinder-dry under the sun and the seams gaped along her length. Gently stood, watched the
Kiama.
Behind the
Kiama
was a rusted wire fence. Behind the fence was rough marsh. On the rough marsh something moved. Gently passed by the
Kiama
, skirted nettles, ducked under an elder bush, came to the fence. He found a gap in the fence, scrambled through the gap, pushed through some bush willows, came to a small clearing. In the centre of the clearing was a primitive hut. The hut was made of old barrel staves and thatched with marsh litter. In front of the hut were the ashes of a wood fire enclosed by a rectangle of stones and old bricks and beside it a fire-blackened tin and a heap of dried alder twigs and a wooden-handled padsaw with Spelton branded on the wooden handle. And in the hut itself squatted Vera Spelton dressed in jean trousers and a sleeveless cream blouse. Her blue eyes were fixed without expression on Gently until he stopped in front of her. Then they smiled. She said:

‘He’s in the
Kiama
, you know.’

Who is in the
Kiama
?’ Gently said.

‘Him,’ Vera Spelton said. ‘The one you want. Him. Him.’

‘Do you mean John French?’ Gently said.

‘The one you want,’ Vera Spelton said. ‘He’s in the
Kiama.
I watched him go in. You can get him now and take him away.’

‘What makes you think I’m going to take him away?’ Gently said.

‘Yes,’ Vera Spelton said. ‘You’re going to take him away. I know. Because he did something awful, I know all about it. I’ve been keeping an eye on him for you. You can take him away now.’

She smiled with great brilliance.

‘He’s the one,’ she said. ‘He was there that night, I know, I saw him, I’ll tell the judge I saw him if you like.’

‘I see,’ Gently said. He looked about him, found a barrel stave, squatted on it. ‘I expect you’ve kept an eye on him a lot,’ he said.

Vera Spelton nodded briskly. ‘I keep an eye on them,’ she said. ‘I know all the things that go on. I’ve got my secret places for watching them. Shall I tell you what I know?’

‘Why not?’ Gently said.

‘Well I know about him and that woman,’ Vera Spelton said. ‘The woman who attracts them so much, though she isn’t half so attractive as I am. But she doesn’t play fair. I keep my clothes on you know. That woman takes her clothes off, it’s the only way she can attract them. And she’s terribly naughty you know, you wouldn’t believe if I told you, she does the very naughtiest things. Don’t you take them away for that?’

No,’ Gently said, ‘not precisely for that.’

‘Well she doesn’t play fair,’ Vera Spelton said. ‘I should take her away if I were you. And she’d been naughtiest of all with him? I don’t mind telling the judge about that. I think she gives him something funny to drink, otherwise he’d never let her do such things.’

‘Have you ever attracted him?’ Gently said.

Vera Spelton pouted. ‘I haven’t tried,’ she said. ‘No, I’m certain I’ve never tried. But I could do. If that would help you to take him away.’

‘Why do you want me to take him away?’ Gently said.

‘Oh I don’t care,’ Vera Spelton said. ‘I don’t mind a bit about that. Except it makes Jackie and Dave so funny.’

‘Hmn,’ Gently said.

‘Shall I tell you some more?’ Vera Spelton said.

‘Tell me about Tuesday night,’ Gently said.

‘Oh nothing happened that night,’ Vera Spelton said.

‘Nothing happened on Tuesday?’

‘No,’ Vera Spelton said. ‘The man was there, you know, her husband. She’s never naughty till he goes out. Then they go into the room at the back with the bed and she locks the door and he lies on the bed. But not on Tuesday. The man was there. When he didn’t come out I didn’t bother to watch.’