‘Into the office, my lad! This isn’t as simple as you seem to think. There’s a little more hangs to it than your playing the Sir Galahad…’
Colouring, the doctor allowed himself to be conducted into the office. Gently closed the glass-panelled door, and finding no bolt, set his shoulder against it.
‘Now! This is a case of murder, if you’re slow at cottoning on.’
‘I am perfectly aware of that-’
‘Good. I’ll try to enlighten you a bit further.
‘You realize what has happened when a man commits homicide? In the first place, to do it, he’s crossed the border of normality. Then, having done it, he’s in arms against society — all other criminals have their friends, but the murderer stands alone.
‘He’s in arms against society! There’s nothing still remaining sacred. He will kill again, or destroy, doing whatever seems to give him an advantage. And the murderer we are dealing with has begun his career of violence — with him, the murder was a point of departure, not a culminating act.
‘He’s more than the average killer — he’s a man in the throes of a primary breakdown; still able to counterfeit normality, but in a state of moral collapse. And if my surmise is correct then Johnson can help me to identify him — tonight, in all probability, before he has a chance to do more damage.
‘So now you know where you stand. I’m putting the responsibility on you. Either you let me talk to Johnson, or what may happen will rest on your shoulders.’
The doctor, listening sullenly at first, became by degrees more thoughtful; then he gave Gently a curious, half wondering look.
‘How long will it take?’
‘At the outside, five minutes.’
‘Come on then. We thought you were going to shove handcuffs on the bloke.’
Johnson was lying on a couch and he still appeared drowsy, but he was mumbling something to Anne Butters, who sat holding his hand. Seeing Gently with the doctor she rose angrily to her feet, but the latter made her a sign and then whispered:
‘It’s all right!’
Unwillingly she stood back and permitted Gently to take the chair. Johnson turned his head slightly, his eyes questioning Gently.
‘How are you feeling now, Johnson?’
‘Doped… and damned glad of it! Couldn’t you wait a bit, cocker… let them set this bastard?’
‘There’s some questions I have to ask you.’
‘Whacko!.. I knew it…’
‘I want to know what you did after you sold your car last night.’
Johnson frowned, though whether from pain it wasn’t easy to decide. There were deep creases about his eyes and a square set to his mouth.
‘What do you want to know… about that?’
‘Everything. All you can remember.’
‘I tried to get Anne on the phone… twice… wanted to tell her where to find me.’
‘Did you get through to her?’
‘No… this morning… when they went to church… reckoned that would be the time.’
‘What else did you do?’
‘I can’t remember… went to the flicks.’
‘Where was that?’
‘Damn! High Street… Cary Grant in a horse opera.’
‘And after that?’
‘I went to bed.’
‘Where? Where did you spend the night?’
‘What does it matter? I don’t know!.. Bed and brekker in Church Street…’
‘What was the name of the people?’
‘Blast it, cocker… have a heart! Got a knocker like a horseshoe… remember that, it’s why I went there…’
He was frowning more and more, and the doctor shook his head at Gently. Anne Butters, as though taking a cue, began decorously to weep. Gently shrugged and rose to his feet:
‘I’d like to use your phone, if I may…’
‘You’ll find one in the office — now, I must really get him to Radiology.’
Gently’s first call was to Headquarters where he made an unexpected connection — Superintendent Walker, who had heard news of Johnson’s capture. The city police chief had driven in from his house on the outskirts, and was now waiting impatiently to learn the sensational details.
‘Have you pinned the charge on him?’
‘No — not yet! There’s one or two more things which need tying up. I’ll be back in about an hour and we’ll talk it over then… in the meantime, will you post a man outside Mallows’s house?’
‘Mallows! Has he got something to do with this?’
‘I think he can help us…’ Gently made a face. ‘I’ll want him for questioning as soon as I get back. But don’t waste any time about putting a man on him.’
His second call was to Chelmsford, to Inspector Horrocks, to whom he gave the details he had learnt from Johnson.
‘It’s urgent to have them checked with the least possible delay. Ring me back at City Headquarters — I’ll be available all night.’
All night… or as long as it took Mallows to crack. He went in search of Stephens and Hansom, and took them off for a cup of coffee.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was curious how, with no direct information available, everybody had a sense of approaching climax; even the remote subordinates in distant corners of HQ who seemed linked together by some psychic grapevine. In part it was perhaps an intelligent reading of events. Though Johnson had been found, he had not been proceeded against. Nor had Gently taken himself off to his hotel by the Castle, and as late at night as this he was prepared to summons Mallows. Unless he was hot on a scent, wouldn’t the morning have done as well? And would Walker, who liked his eight hours, be preparing for a nocturnal session?
This odd feeling of tension had extended itself to the press men, half a dozen of whom Gently found playing rummy in the waiting room. There was a rush and a scrambling for notebooks when they saw him come up the steps — they had had a handout already, but they wanted some live quotes.
‘Is it a fact that you don’t intend arresting Johnson?’
‘Isn’t there a woman in this…?’
‘Was the plane smashed deliberately?’
Even now there would be photographers bumping out to Rawton Aerodrome, and in all probability getting lost in the dark.
But the reporters were not satisfied with details of l’affaire Johnson. Their professionally developed instincts warned them that this was only secondary. After exhausting all their questions they didn’t rush off to the nearest phone, but instead returned to the waiting room, taking care to post a sentry. Then they picked up their cards again and automatically continued the game.
Having been through it once with them Gently had to repeat his performance for Walker, and the Super, like his man of parts, could see no alternative to the arrest of Johnson. Gently was masterful in his evasion, but he emphasized the salient point:
‘That letter must have been sent by the culprit — and Johnson couldn’t have sent the letter.’
‘But suppose you leave the letter out of it.’
