leading questions — and getting nowhere. It was only the Harrier people had seen. It was a chronic complaint with them — they noticed boats, but they didn’t notice people. And, they would always add, if they had seen Lammas they wouldn’t have known him… it was like inquiring for someone from another planet. Was it barely possible he had come through that week unscathed?
‘Well, sir, it’s been a nice little houting!’ observed Dutt as they throbbed back upstream through the white smoke-mist. ‘I never did get round to one of those holidays afloat before, but I reckon I’ve seen it all now, sir.’
Gently bit on the end of a dead pipe and reached automatically for a match.
‘I’ve got an odd feeling, Dutt.’
‘Yessir. That sun was bleeding fierce, sir.’
Gently grinned. ‘I don’t mean sunstroke! The feeling I’ve got is that I’ve learned something about this trip of Lammas’, and I don’t know what the blazes that something is.’
‘You mean as how you can’t see the wood, sir.’
‘Exactly, Dutt — I can’t see the wood.’
He scratched the match, which lit cheerily in the dank vapour curling past them.
‘The further we go, the more it grows on me… but it’s no use harping on it. What’s this place we’re just coming to?’
‘Halford Quay, sir, ’cording to the map.’
‘It isn’t on the list, but we’d better give it a whirl.’
‘You’ll have covered the lot then, sir,’ returned Dutt, with the merest tinge of bitterness.
Halford Quay was a popular spot. There were yachts and cruisers moored two deep all along its not-very- great expanse. At one end it was blocked by the gardens of a brightly-lit hotel, at the other chopped off by the cut- in of a boat-yard. Into this Dutt directed the launch. As they came alongside the staithe an elderly, bearded man in navy cap and sweater ambled across to them.
‘Now don’t yew know this is private properta… or dew yew think yew can buy petrol at this time of night?’
Gently shrugged and tossed him the painter.
‘We shan’t worry you long… and maybe you can tell us what we want to know.’
‘Ah… maybe I can an’ maybe I can’t.’
He weighed up the launch with a professional eye, then cast a shrewd glance at the occupants.
‘Tha’s old Slola’s boat, now, i’nt’t? And I reckon I can guess who yew are without strainin m’self.’
Gently nodded briefly and climbed out on to the staithe.
‘I was wonderin how long yew’d be gettin round here… thought that’d be a rummun dew yew missed me out!’
‘You know why we’re here then?’
‘Blast yes — I can read the paper.’
‘And you’ve something to tell us?’
‘W’either I dew, or else yew don’t hear it.’
Gently considered this ambiguous reply for a moment.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Me! I’m Ole Sid Crow — Ole Sid’ll dew round here.’
‘You work at the yard here?’
‘I dew, when I aren’t idle.’
‘Go on then — what’ve you got to tell us?’
Sid Crow came a little closer, as though afraid that a precious word might go astray.
‘He dropped her here — tha’s what I’ve got to tell yew. Now say I’m a blodda liar an’ don’t know what I’m talkin’ about!’
He did know what he was talking about. He proved that up to the hilt. Of all the interviewees they had tackled on that trip, Sid Crow was the single one who knew Lammas by sight — he had worked at the Yacht Club on Wrackstead Broad and seen Lammas pull in there on his half-decker. And he could describe the clothes Lammas was wearing. And also Linda Brent.
The Harrier, it appeared, had moored at Halford Quay at tea-time on the Friday. The quay had been crowded then as it was now and she had tied up on the public side of the cut-in, right under Sid’s nose. The two occupants had then proceeded to get tea. They had had it in the well, without any attempt at concealment. After tea they had smoked a leisurely cigarette, washed and put away the dishes, and a little later had gone ashore, Lammas carrying two suitcases and Linda Brent her handbag and plastic raincoat. They went in the direction of the bus stop. About ten minutes later Lammas returned alone. Without any hurry he made the yacht ship-shape, checked his petrol and then quanted her over to Sid’s side for a fill-up. And then he had set off upstream; time, about twenty to seven.
‘You’re sure it was to the bus stop they went?’ queried Gently.
‘W’no.’ Sid Crow gave a deprecating twist with his shoulders. ‘But tha’s the way they went and there was a bus just about due.’
‘What bus was that?’
‘There’s one go into Narshter at twenta past six, weekdas.’
‘And what time would it get in at Norchester?’
‘Bout seven — yew’d better ask them what go on it.’
Gently caught Dutt’s eye with a meaningful look in it.
‘There aren’t any other buses round about then?’
‘Nothin more till eight o’clock.’
‘Thank you, Mr Crow. That’s a useful piece of information.’
He paused a moment, puffing blue smoke into the tepid, misty air.
‘Of course, when you heard what had happened to Mr Lammas you mentioned what you had seen to one or two people…?’
Sid Crow was disgusted.
‘I’m old enough t’know when t’keep m’mouth shut — specialla when I knew that parta wa’nt his missus!’
‘Then you didn’t mention it to anyone?’
‘Not the bit about the female.’
‘But the bit about his being here on the Harrier?’
‘W’yes — I told his missus.’
‘You told who?’
‘I told his missus — though mind yew, I woon’t have done dew I ha’nt thought she knew about’t alreada.’
Gently coughed over his sparking pipe. It was quite a few seconds before he got round to his next question…
‘And when did you tell his missus?’
‘Why, that verra same evenin’?’
She had driven up in her car at about a quarter past seven and parked it opposite the quay. Sid, alerted by what he had seen previously, had watched her with interest as she walked along the quay, obviously looking for the departed yacht. When she came to the end of the quay she had beckoned Sid across. She didn’t know he recognized her.
‘I’m looking for Mr Lammas on board the yacht Harrier. Have you seen him by any chance?’
Sid told her he had supplied the Harrier with petrol.
‘His — er — wife, was she on board with him?’
‘No mum. He was alone when he pulled in here.’
‘He was on his way to Wrackstead, I suppose?’
‘He certainla went off in that direction.’
Mrs Lammas had given Sid half a crown, gone back to her car and driven off again directly.
Gently sighed deeply at the end of this narration.
‘And you weren’t going to tell me this if I hadn’t squeezed it out of you?’
