Dawes puffed impassively four or five times.
‘Him up there who they say you’ve got an eye on.’
‘Mixer — the man who was with her?’
‘He found them together in the tent.’
Now there was room for a pause — Gently was frankly taken aback. So there had been more to the Simmonds story — apparently, a very great deal more! Simmonds had been leading him up the garden… as a matter of fact, he had almost convinced him.
‘How do you know about this?’
‘Saw it happen. From the net store.’
‘When?’
‘Last Tuesday, just before tea.’
‘Describe it to me.’
‘That’s all there is to it.’
‘How long had they been in the tent — how did Mixer come to find them?’
Esau shifted his long legs as though to express his disapproval. Nobody badgered him like that, the slow movements seemed to say.
‘I’ve seen him once or twice trying to find them up the marrams. Tuesday he hung around near the tent — have you seen that old pillbox? So then they came back and went into the tent together. He ran across there like a madman and hauled the boy out by his ankles.’
‘And the woman — what about her?’
‘She came out of her own accord.’
‘Didn’t she try to intervene?’
‘She might have said something, but that’s all.’
‘And when it was over?’
‘Why, he marched her off with him. They came by the store and went off towards the guest house.’
‘What were they saying as they passed you?’
‘Nothing I heard. But they looked the more for it.’
‘When was the next time you saw her?’
‘Under the sacks by Bob Hawks’s boat.’
‘Who else saw it happen?’
‘There wasn’t only me.’
‘Then why didn’t you report it?’
‘Didn’t think to till I saw you with the boy.’
Esau scratched a leisurely match, his pipe having died on him. The bobbing flame lit his stem features with their viking-like cut. In his ears he wore gold rings, his beard was brushed to a point. His blue eyes seemed permanently fixed on some far-distant horizon.
But they saw plenty, those eyes, there was no doubt about that.
‘And what else do you know?’
‘Nothing — about your business.’
‘I shouldn’t think you’re one to miss much.’
‘Nor one to talk about it, neither.’
‘Perhaps I’d better remind you.’
But Gently could see it was a waste of time. The Sea-King of Hiverton had concluded his audience: there was nothing more to be got from him but steady puffs of smoke.
Still, he hadn’t done so badly for his first day on the case. Gently got to his feet feeling that things had woken up a little. He’d got a handle now, both for Simmonds and for Mixer — especially on the latter he could put a little pressure!
Eager to press home his advantage, he nearly bowled over a hurrying Dutt. The sergeant was coming out of the Bel-Air and seemed in a state of high excitement.
‘I’ve been back half-an-hour, sir!’
‘What’s the matter, Dutt — something popped?’
‘Popped is right, sir — listen to this! It isn’t quite what you might have expected.
‘There’s been a flap on at Starmouth — they’ve had some charlies raiding a warehouse. It took place on the Wednesday morning and there were four of them involved. Now one of them meets the others at a caff on the Castra Road — his description fits our Mixer — and he was driving a green Citroen!
‘That’s all, sir, excepting they’ve got witnesses who can identify him. I told them we’d bring him back, and they’re waiting for us now.’
CHAPTER SIX
It wasn’t exactly a race into Starmouth, but it developed into something distinctly undignified. Gently, whose driving was usually unexceptional, was led into small but reprehensible excesses.
The lounge of the Bel-Air was where it had started. Mixer had installed himself there with whisky and a sporting paper. As soon as Gently entered he was set on by two reporters; one of them he had seen before, but the other was a fresh arrival.
‘They’ll just be in time to catch the early edition.’
‘My editor’s been in touch with the Yard.’
Like a couple of terriers they yapped round his heels, pushing, keen eyed, determined to get some copy from him. From his basket chair Mixer cast them apprehensive glances. Gently swore under his breath. This would have to happen!
‘Come into the bar, will you?’
He appeared to capitulate, but on the way he had exchanged a couple of quick words with Dutt. Five minutes later he had heard the Wolseley’s horn sound twice: at the first excuse he had terminated his impromptu press conference.
The trouble was that they had been too sharp for him, that pair of reporters. They had smelled a rat, they had shadowed Gently out of the house. Apparently it was their Morris which stood parked on the gravel, and the Wolseley had scarcely reached Hamby before headlights began to pursue it.
So he had stood on the accelerator, foolishly, needlessly. He had practised several little tricks to get rid of those persistent lights. At Castra he’d turned left and gone round the houses, and again at Starmouth he’d done his best to shake them off.
And all to no purpose — they had stuck to him like pitch. Getting a big kick, no doubt, out of chasing a police car. While all the time he’d known that he was being a trifle childish, that at the bottom of it he was upset by this new and perplexing development.
‘This sort of lets him out sir.’
Dutt had quickly put his finger on it. Yet it didn’t let him out, not in a way that closed the file on him. Mixer, if it was he, had met his associates soon after midnight. In other words he could have strangled Rachel and still been in time to keep his rendezvous. But the probability had lessened, it had lessened considerably. With a robbery on his plate Mixer would hardly have chased back to Hiverton. Hadn’t he already eased his feelings by giving Simmonds a pasting? Wouldn’t he have lectured Rachel and perhaps threatened her with some punishment?
For this one night, at all events, he’d have let the matter ride. With three assistants down from town he couldn’t afford to play the jealous lover.
To which one had to add his reactions when he heard the time of her death. One could read them clearly now — he knew he was safe from the capital charge! If the worst came to the worst, then he had a cast-iron alibi! In his own mind he must have been confident that the warehouse job would clear him.
Yet… that little doubt remained. He could have got back to murder Rachel. Even — though criminals were rarely so devious — he could have planned the robbery for insurance. He might have driven back to Hiverton with her murder expressly in his mind.
