Into the Valley of Debt Flowed the 500
Slider let Borthwick sweat, once they’d booked him in, while Atherton and Fathom searched the flat. Atherton phoned straight away with the most urgent piece of information Slider had requested, and once he had that, Slider went up to see Porson.
He found the old man pacing about his office while he watched the news on television.
‘They’ve got your arrest on already,’ he said as Slider entered. They stood in silence watching on the rolling newscast as Borthwick came out between two uniformed policemen and was helped into the marked car with the usual hand-on-the-head, while the news ribbon underneath read ‘Arrest made in Stonax case’.
‘I thought they’d jump on it, but that’s even quicker than I expected,’ Slider said.
Porson looked at him, oddly still for a moment. ‘I’ve had a call from Mr Wetherspoon, congratulating us on our quick work,’ he said neutrally. ‘D’you want to tell me what’s going on?’
‘There was a footmark, just an impression in the carpet pile, by the filing cabinet where we think a file was taken. Bob Bailey says it was no more than a size nine. Victim’s feet are an eleven, and Atherton’s just rung through to say Borthwick’s various bits of footwear in the flat – ’ disgusting trainers, was what Atherton had said – ‘are size twelve.’
‘Easy enough to fake a footprint larger than your own,’ Porson said, ‘but you can’t make your feet smaller.’
‘Exactly. I think Borthwick’s being set up to take the fall. That’s why I told them to take Borthwick out of the front door, make sure the press got a good look at him.’
‘Stupid old Mr Plod’s taken the bait, eh?’ Porson was on the move again.
‘I don’t like being led by the nose,’ Slider said grimly. ‘So now I need to know if Borthwick was a willing accomplice, and who he’ll roll over for if I lean on him.’
‘So if it’s not robbery from the person, what is it?’
Slider shrugged unhappily. ‘It’s got to be something to do with Stonax’s past life.’
‘The missing file?’
‘Possibly. But that could be another red herring. His ex-lady friend was going out with Freddie Bell—’
That caught his attention. ‘Tasty!’
‘But we think she was still seeing Stonax.’
Porson got the point at once. ‘Oh, Freddie Bell would love that.’
‘Question is, would he be devoted to her enough to hit his rival?’
‘Well, I’ll leave you to find out. We’ll let them think we’ve bought the story, anyway, hold on to Borthwick as long as we can. I want to give you time to look into every asset of Stonax’s life.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Slider was at the door when Porson said quietly, ‘What about the other business?’
‘Sir?’
‘You had a little outing yesterday.’ Slider turned back reluctantly. The old man always knew everything. ‘Any luck?’
‘No, sir.’
Porson seemed to sigh. ‘I can’t expect you to take it lying down, like a sitting duck. You’re a tethered goat, and Headquarters’ve got no right to make you a sacrificial lamb, in my book. But bigger things are at stake here than either you or I know about. We’ve been pacifically told not to investigate, and if you pee on some SO’s carpet, they’ll be down on you like a ton of bricks. I won’t be flavour of the month either,’ he added, almost as an afterthought. Like a good general, he thought about his troops first.
‘Whatever I did, it was without your permission, sir, and behind your back. You didn’t know anything about it.’
‘Didn’t know anything about what?’ Porson barked.
‘Yes, sir.’ He paused to see if anything else was coming, and headed for the door again.
This time, Porson said very quietly, but with feeling, ‘For God’s sake be careful. This bastard’s dangerous. You’re not in the Job to get your head blown off.’
To which no reply was needed.
Dave Borthwick looked as though he hadn’t slept. His face was both puffy and drawn. His hair, too long, thinning on the top, hung down in limp and greasy strands, and he smelled of sweat both old and new, as though he hadn’t changed his clothes in a couple of days. He had a full beard and a gold earring in the right earlobe, but neither feature managed to give him a buccaneer air. He was a big man, heavily built, both in the manner of muscles gone to seed and too much indulgence in fast food, pub snacks and beer. His sheer size and weight would give him the edge in a fight, but he didn’t look like a man who had much to do with edges in any aspect of his life. There was about him, to the experienced copper’s eye, the look of a whiner, the kind of small-time crook who thought the world owed him a living, and that it wasn’t coming up to scratch.
Slider felt that whoever had chosen Borthwick as accomplice had got the wrong man. This was not a hero ready to throw himself on the grenade. Atherton described him as thixotropic: turns to jelly when agitated. But Slider supposed they hadn’t had any choice.
He went in to the interview almost with relish. ‘Well, Dave – d’you mind if I call you Dave?’ He didn’t give Borthwick a chance to answer. ‘This is a bit of a turn up, isn’t it? You’re in a lot of trouble, you know. A lot of trouble.’
Borthwick’s eyes flitted about like moths round a table lamp. ‘I never done nothing. You got nothing on me.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ Slider said dismissively. ‘We’ve got everything on you. In case you hadn’t noticed, one of your tenants got murdered yesterday.’
Panic and self-righteousness competed for control of Borthwick’s features. ‘Bloody ’ell, what’s goin’ on?’ he cried in what sounded like genuine pain. ‘Just because some geezer gets offed! Whajjer come down on me for? I never even knew the bloke. All the people ’at live in that house, and just because I got a bit o’ form . . . You lot are all the same. I been clean for four soddin’ years, but you lot can’t ever give a bloke a fuckin’ break. I never done
Slider intervened before he exploded. ‘Shut up, Dave,’ he said, not unkindly. ‘To save you wasting your breath, I feel I should tell you that a man in motorbike leathers and a helmet with a dark visor was seen leaving the house just about the time of the murder, and we’ve found leathers and helmet in your place that match the description. Also there were marks and smears of oil on the victim’s clothing where his pockets were searched. Now, in case you don’t know it, the oil in a motor quickly picks up impurities – dirt, soot, tiny specks of swarf – and the pattern of those impurities is unique to that machine. It’s like DNA for motorbikes, if you like. You know what DNA is, don’t you? It stands for Do Not Argue, because there’s no getting away from it. It’s the ultimate proof. And would it surprise you very much to learn that the oil from the victim’s clothing matches the oil from your bike?’ He hadn’t had the report back yet, of course, so he couldn’t say that it
Borthwick had lost his voice at last. He simply stared, appalled, his mouth open. Slider almost wished he would put up more of a fight. This was like taking sweeties from babies.
Slider went on, ‘Not only that, Dave, but while we were looking round your flat we found the money. Five hundred pounds in used notes under your mattress, and another thousand in a drawer in your kitchen. The drawer also contains,’ he added in deep pity, ‘the victims’ watch.’
It took time for this to filter through Borthwick’s mental rigidity. ‘The victim’s—?’ he said. ‘That watch was—?’ Slider nodded. ‘Bastards!’ Borthwick yelled suddenly. He heaved in his chair, and Atherton, standing behind Slider, took a step and said menacingly, ‘Sit down!’
Borthwick subsided but he had found his tongue. ‘I never did it, I swear on my mum’s grave! I never knew the bloke! Never even been
