just a question of killing the man and recovering the money. Streifer could handle that well enough on his own. No — what was important about Stratilesceul was certain information he could give… with a little persuasion, perhaps… about other untrustworthy members of the TSK Party. Am I right?’
The cigarette was definitely a spent force, but Peachey kept on working at it.
‘That was the problem, then — to get Stratilesceul in a place where he could be duly persuaded, and afterwards, as a mere formality, put to death. It wasn’t an easy problem to solve. Stratilesceul wasn’t laying himself open to being kidnapped. As far as he knew, he had shaken off the pursuit, but he was still taking precautions — like lodging in a crowded boarding-house and sticking to the frequented parts of the town. I dare say there were several plans made. The length of time it took to do the job suggests it. But they all fell through for that very simple reason — they could never get him where they could lay their hands on him.
‘So we come to the final conference — Louey, Streifer and Little Peachey… because you were in on it, weren’t you, Peachey? And Louey sits on a striped chair behind that very nice desk of his, thinking, thinking. At last he says to Streifer: “You’re familiar with Stratilesceul’s confidential record?” — And Streifer nods with that quiet little laugh of his. “Is there nothing in it that might serve our turn?” — Streifer shrugs and says: “He’s fond of women.” “Women!” says Louey, showing some gold, “any particular sort of women, or just women in general?” “Blonde women,” says Streifer, “nice big blondes.”
‘At that Louey really smiles. “We’ve got the very thing… haven’t we, Peachey?” he says, “a nice big blonde who’ll do just what we ask her! Why, I dare say that if we play it right we can get friend Stephan delivered to the very door…” And what did Little Peachey say to that? He said: “Yes, Louey, of course, Louey, anything you say goes with me, Louey-’’’
‘I didn’t know!’ shrieked the tormented Peachey, ‘they never said anything about killing him in front of me!’
‘You didn’t guess?’ rapped Gently. ‘You thought it was just going to be a social evening?’
‘They said he’d hidden the money, that’s all. They said they wanted to get him to find out what he’d done with it!’
‘So you’re entirely innocent — and Frenchy’s entirely innocent?’
‘She didn’t know neither!’
‘Just a couple of little lambs! And where were you when Frenchy was doing her dirty work?’
‘I don’t know — I was in the bar!’
‘You were in the bar — then you didn’t get Louey’s car out of the garage?’
‘No!’
‘Then two witnesses we’ve got are liars?’
‘I wasn’t near the garage!’
‘And you didn’t pick up the reception committee and take them to “Windy Tops”?’
‘… I was in the bar!’
‘And you didn’t wait there with them to give a hand tying up Stratilesceul?’
‘I didn’t — I didn’t! When they’d got him in there they sent me back with Frenchy… we never knew nothing… nothing at all.’
‘So it was just one big surprise when you saw it in the papers.’ Gently reached down for his cup of tea and tossed it off fiercely. ‘And when you found out, what did you do?’
‘I didn’t do nothing!’ floundered Peachey, his little eyes roving from side to side as though in desperate search for escape.
‘Nothing. Nothing! You knew the murderers — you’d been tricked into helping them — unless you spoke up quick you were in it along with them — and yet you did nothing. Is that your tale for the jury?’
‘I ain’t going before a jury!’
‘Oh yes you are, Peachey, somewhere along the line.’
‘But you said it wasn’t evidence!’
‘It will be when you’ve sworn it.’
‘I ain’t going to swear it — never — no one can make me.’
‘They won’t have to, Peachey. You’ll do all the swearing that’s necessary when you go up on a murder rap.’
‘But I never did it — you know I never did it!’
‘I shall feel a lot more certain when I’ve got a statement on paper with your signature underneath.’
Peachey shrivelled up in the chair like a punctured balloon. ‘I ain’t going to swear,’ he whispered, ‘I ain’t — I ain’t!’
‘Then it’s two years’ hard at the very least.’
‘I ain’t going to swear, not though it was twenty.’
Gently shrugged his bulky shoulders and handed his cup to Dutt, who silently refilled it. Gently drank some and gnawed a shortbread biscuit. ‘Of course, you know we’ve got Streifer,’ he muttered casually amongst the crumbs.
‘Str-Streifer?’ Peachey unshrivelled a little.
Gently nodded and bit another piece.
‘But Streifer is g-gone…!’
‘We took the trouble to bring him back again… your grapevine can’t be as good as it was.’
Peachey’s small eyes fixed on the pattern of Mrs Davis’s best carpet, but he made no other contribution for the moment.
‘He’s safe and sound,’ continued Gently, ‘you don’t have to worry about him any longer. And if a certain little bird would sing his song we could put Louey in with him. Louey in jail,’ he added helpfully, ‘would be just as harmless as the average mortal.’
The pattern still had Peachey fascinated.
‘And with a little further assistance, Peachey — all confidential, you understand, no names published, no questions asked about how a certain individual came by his information — we could arrest and imprison or expel quite a fairish bag of unfriendly-minded persons. In fact, we could make this country a healthy place for little Peacheys to come back to after a six-month vacation… couldn’t we?’
For a moment the small eyes lifted from the carpet and rested just below Gently’s chin. Then they sank again, sullenly, and the dry lips bit together.
‘Ah well!’ sighed Gently, ‘we do our best, don’t we? We always do our best!’ He appropriated another biscuit and crammed it into his mouth. ‘Take him home, Dutt… take him to his flat in Sidlow Street. I don’t suppose he wants to see Louey again tonight.’
Dutt took a step forward and Peachey looked up suddenly, his mouth dropping open.
‘B-but aren’t you going to p-pinch me…?’
Gently shook his head and swallowed some tea.
‘B-but you’ve got a charge — y-you said you had!’
‘Can’t bother with it just now, Peachey. The local lads will see to it some time.’
‘B-but it’s true — you’ve got some witnesses!’
‘You just comalongofme like the chief inspector says,’ said Dutt, hoisting the parrot-faced one to his feet, ‘he’s done with you now… you’re even getting a nice ride home. You don’t want us to lock you up, do you?’
If Peachey’s expression was anything to go by he did want that very thing, but neither Gently nor Dutt seemed willing to oblige. He was stood firmly in the hall while Dutt was putting on his raincoat and Gently, still ravaging amongst the biscuits, appeared to be forgetting the existence of both of them. But as Dutt reached for his hat, Gently sauntered to the lounge door.
‘By the way, Peachey…’
Peachey blinked at him hopefully.
‘If you were running a short-wave transmitter it would be useful to have a nice high aerial, wouldn’t it?’
‘T-transmitter…?’
‘That’s right. For sending little gossip-notes to the Continent.’
‘But I don’t know nothing about it!’
Gently tut-tutted and felt for a scrap of paper. ‘Here we are… hot from Central Records. They released you from a stretch in ’42 to go into the Services; you were trained as a radio-mechanic at Compton Bassett; radar
