‘Did you?’ Gently asked.
Leach leaned on the rostrum. ‘Whose been talking?’ he said.
‘People do talk,’ Gently said. ‘Did you see Lister and Elton together?’
Leach kept leaning. He was thoughtful. ‘Maybe I did see something,’ he said.
‘Something you didn’t tell us before?’
‘Yeah,’ Leach said. ‘Something I didn’t tell you.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ Gently asked.
‘Reasons,’ Leach said. ‘I had my reasons. Maybe I could see it looked bad for Elton. I don’t like sicking the screws on a customer.’
‘Even though he might be a murderer?’ Gently asked.
‘Elton ain’t no murderer,’ Leach said. ‘But that was the way the screws were looking at it, that he’d got a grudge and knocked Lister off.’
‘What was it you didn’t tell us?’ Gently asked.
‘Well,’ Leach said, ‘I broke up a row they was having.’
He licked his lips, flashed a probing look at Gently. Gently wasn’t looking at Leach at all. He’d just noticed that the round mirror which hung on the half-landing of the stairs reflected another, higher, mirror, which gave a view down the bar. It was neat. He could see the blonde paying change into the till.
‘Here in the milk bar?’ he said.
‘Yeah,’ Leach said. ‘That’s right.’
‘Nobody else mentioned it,’ Gently said.
‘Well,’ Leach said, ‘it was in the toilet.’
‘Tell me what happened,’ Gently said.
‘Yeah, in the toilet,’ Leach said. ‘About ten o’clock, I think it was, the band was having its refreshments. So I went into the toilet and there were these charlies shouting the odds. Elton was going to knock Lister’s block off, he’d swiped his girlfriend or some caper. I could see he meant it too, he’d got an ugly look in his eye. So I broke it up. I give them the warning. Round about ten o’clock, that was.’
‘Nice of you to remember,’ Gently said.
‘Yeah,’ Leach said. He put the lid on the box.
‘We might never have known about it,’ Gently said.
Leach tied on the ribbon, placed the box on the pile.
Another customer had come into the bar upstairs, a dingy old man with the appearance of a pensioner. He seemed to be having quite a conversation with the blonde whose doubtfulness was expressed by her attitude and gestures. Leach looked at the mirrors, then at Gently. He patted the box, rearranged the ribbon.
‘That’s just a dodge of mine,’ he said. ‘Got to keep an eye on the till when you’re down here.’
‘On your customers, too,’ Gently said.
‘Well,’ Leach said, ‘they don’t all come from Mayfair.’
Now the old man had produced an envelope and handed it to the blonde. The blonde turned her back to open it, then nodded, glancing at the cellar entrance. She reached underneath the bar.
‘Now see this mike-’ Leach began, moving.
‘Hold it.’ Gently pushed him aside.
What the blonde had handed over was a box of chocolates.
Gently was up on the instant, ran down the cellar and up the stairs. Leach came bolting after him shouting, trying to catch hold of his jacket. The old man was opening the door to go out. He stopped in surprise as the two men rushed in. Gently grabbed the box away from him, planted himself panting against the door. The blonde chose the moment to let go a scream. A customer knocked over a chair as he jumped to his feet.
‘You give that back to him!’ Leach was shouting. ‘You give that back to him, or I’ll do you!’
‘Get over there,’ Gently ordered him. ‘He’ll have the box after I’ve seen it.’
‘What’s going on?’ said the customer, a navvy.
‘Police,’ Gently said. ‘In pursuit of a felony.’
‘It’s a bloody lie!’ Leach shouted, white-faced. ‘It’s him committed felony — he’s pinched those chocolates!’
‘They’re not mine,’ the old man was quavering. ‘Please give them back to me, they belong to someone else.’
Gently motioned to the navvy. ‘Guard this door,’ he said. The navvy looked stupid, but he moved in front of the door. Gently took the box to a table, stripped the ribbon from it and lifted the lid. Under brown corrugated wrapping lay a neat layer of chocolates.
‘Look at them,’ Leach was beginning. ‘Bleeding chocolates, that’s all.’
But Gently had scooped the chocolates out and lifted the separator that was under them. He stood back.
‘Just chocolates?’
The second layer was of cigarettes. Slightly brownish, loosely made, there would be four to five hundred of them.
‘Gawd,’ Leach said, ‘gawd.’ His face was a greyish mess.
‘Any comment?’ Gently asked.
‘Yeah,’ Leach said. ‘I didn’t know about them.’
‘Save it,’ Gently said. He turned to the old man, who stood pop-eyed. ‘What do you know about it?’ he asked. ‘Where did you get the money for these?’
The old man swallowed, shook his head. ‘I was asked to come in and get them,’ he said. ‘A young man gave me ten shillings to collect them. He said there was someone here who he didn’t want to see.’
‘Where were you taking them?’ Gently rapped.
The old man winced. ‘Just over in the car park. I was out for my airing when this young man accosted me. He’s waiting there by his motorcycle for me to bring them back.’
Gently hesitated, picked up the box. ‘Take me to him,’ he said. He looked at the navvy. ‘See these people don’t leave,’ he ordered him. ‘They’re to stay right where they are, not to move from this room. If they try, put your head out and bawl for the police and assistance.’
He pushed the pensioner through the door, took his arm across the street. The park by now was pretty solid with cars and several people were moving amongst them.
‘How was he dressed?’ Gently muttered.
‘He was dressed for motorcycling,’ said the pensioner. ‘If we keep this side of the cars he shouldn’t see us till we’re nearly up to him.’
They kept to that side of the cars, the pensioner trotting along jerkily. When they were three-quarters of the way across he pulled hard on Gently’s arm.
‘He’s over there,’ he whispered, ‘by that fire-hydrant place.’
‘Keep with me,’ Gently said. He disengaged his arm.
But just then a motor roared on the other side of the hydrant station. Gently belted through the cars, hurled himself round the small building. He caught only a glimpse of a powerful bike cornering sharply into a back street, its black-leathered rider lying it close, its registration plate invisible. The pensioner came stuttering after Gently.
‘That’s him!’ he exclaimed, ‘That’s him!’
Gently stood clutching his box. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s him.’
He returned to the milk bar where the navvy remained dutifully guarding the entrance. Leach was sitting on one of the bar-stools, the blonde was snivelling into a handkerchief. Leach’s eyes glittered when he saw Gently come back with the pensioner only, but he didn’t say anything, kept his face sullenly averted. Gently confronted him.
‘Who was he?’ he asked.
‘How should I know?’ Leach said. ‘I don’t know nothing about this caper. I’m being used, that’s what it is.’
‘You,’ Gently said to the blonde. ‘Who were you expecting to pick that box up?’
