‘Subtle,’ Deeming said. ‘I take a hint. You’re too suspicious screw. By half.’
He lounged away, down the stairs, gave the man on the door a cheery good morning. Gently spent a second staring after him, then he whisked along to the courtroom again.
‘Where’s the phone?’ he demanded.
‘In the office, sir,’ the constable told him.
He showed Gently into an icy room which had a roll-top desk and an old safe in it. On the back of the desk stood an upright instrument. Gently unhooked it and asked for Police H.Q.
‘Has Inspector Setters got back yet?’
‘Yes, sir… he’s just come in.’
‘Put him on.’
In a couple of moments Setters snarled ‘Yeah?’ into his instrument.
Gently said: ‘I want a couple of men with a car to tail Deeming. He’s just now left the guildhall and is probably walking back to his rooms. They needn’t be clever about tailing him, in fact I’d like him to know they’re there, but they’ve got to stick with him, on or off his bike, and keep in R.T. contact with H.Q. If he gets away from them on his bike they’re to alert the patrols to intercept him. And it’s urgent. I want your men to pick him up right away.’
Setters hesitated. ‘For how long,’ he asked, ‘am I losing these two men and a car?’
‘Not very long,’ Gently replied. ‘Not very long is the way I see it.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
During the whole of the incident in Tungate Street the street had been completely deserted, but now, when Gently went back for his car, the place was crowded with sightseers. The bikes had not yet been taken away and were being guarded by two uniform men, and on the spot where Baynes had lain bleeding some sawdust had been hastily strewn. The two reporters from the courtroom had got there and had been joined by a photographer. His flashbulb hissed as Gently came up and the two reporters jumped in eagerly.
‘Can you give us a statement, Superintendent?’
‘Try Inspector Setters,’ Gently said.
‘But this is your car — you were here when it happened?’
‘No comment,’ Gently said.
‘What was the name of the wounded man?’
‘No comment,’ Gently said.
‘Is it true that this connects with the Lister case?’
‘I’ll give you a statement later,’ Gently said.
‘Then we can assume there is a connection?’
‘No comment,’ Gently said.
He pushed them aside, got in his car, backed off the kerb, and drove away. The crowd parted to let him through, each one peering to get a glimpse of him. At Police H.Q. there was another crowd, more reporters and photographers. He shouldered through them, head down, deaf to the fresh questions flung at him.
Setters was sitting alone in his office, his face pale, trembling still. He didn’t look up when Gently came in. His hand was resting on his telephone.
‘They’ve got him up in the hospital,’ he said. ‘Simpson is with him. They’re giving him a transfusion. It just happens he’s one of those types that keep on bleeding. It could be fatal to him. Simpson’s in the same group.’
‘That’s the way things happen,’ Gently said.
Setters looked at him. His eyes were glittering.
‘You didn’t hit that bloody slob hard enough,’ he said. ‘He’s spewing his guts up in the cell. Christ, if he’d come at me with a knife!’
Gently gave him a slow nod.
‘I’m not responsible,’ Setters said. ‘When a slob like that cuts loose with a knife I don’t want law. I stop being a cop.’
‘Did you pick up the knife?’ Gently asked.
Setters pointed to a scrap of paper on the desk. Folded in it was the bloodied flick-knife with some dirt and fluff stuck to the blade. It was a common pattern and appeared to be new. It had a fibre handle with diamond embossings.
‘Could that have been bought locally?’ Gently asked.
Setters shrugged faintly. ‘I’ll check it,’ he said. ‘I could bloody weep. I’m no good as a cop. I think for sure I’d have killed that slob.’
‘You wouldn’t have killed him,’ Gently said.
‘Look at me,’ Setters said. ‘Look at the way I’m shaking. I’m a Detective Inspector, me, I’ve got thirty years’ service. And I’m just finding out I’ve got murder in me.’
‘Not murder,’ Gently said. ‘Blind hate, that’s all.’
‘Murder,’ Setters said. ‘Murder. I know what I feel. When I saw him go for you with that knife I wanted to smash the life out of him. I wanted to do it then and there. And I’d have done it, I’m bloody certain.’
Gently shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t be talking about it now,’ he said. ‘The ones who’ll do it don’t talk about it. They only talk with their hands.’
Setters looked at his hands. He moved the fingers, crooking them.
‘I could bloody weep,’ he repeated. He jammed his hands into his pockets.
Gently sat on the desk, filled his pipe, gave one or two puffs.
‘Did you notice who slipped Bixley the knife?’ he asked.
‘Nope,’ Setters said. ‘I was bawling into the R.T. It must have been after they pulled out Brewer, after the window was smashed.’
‘Brewer didn’t see it?’
‘Didn’t have a chance,’ Setters said. ‘Baynes must have seen it slipped, but we can’t talk to him. How would he have recognized him, anyway, when the slob had a mask?’
‘He might have said something,’ Gently said. ‘Baynes might have recognized the voice.’
‘Yes,’ Setters said. ‘There’s a chance of that. And we’ll get whoever it was if I have to use a rack on them. I want that chummie in the dock along with Bixley.’
‘There’ll be no prints on that handle,’ Gently said. ‘But we might be able to trace the purchase.’
Setters gave the knife a glare. ‘I don’t think it was bought here,’ he said. ‘There’s only two shops would sell them, and I keep an eye on what they stock. It’s ten years since we had any knife business in Latchford. Maybe you can buy them in Castlebridge.’
‘You can buy them in Bethnal,’ Gently said.
‘Yes,’ Setters said, ‘that sounds more likely. But I’ll check, don’t worry. I want every screw in Bixley’s coffin. And I’m telling you this, too. I’ve forgotten that Elton ever existed. Just nail that Lister job on Bixley, and Elton can go chase his tail.’
Gently smiled distantly, puffing. ‘I may oblige with that,’ he said.
‘He’s the chummie,’ Setters said. ‘I can see it now, the murdering slob. Elton was just a mixed-up kid, he didn’t have it in him to kill. But Bixley’s a killer, a filthy killer. He did that job, and he’s going to swing.’
‘Yes,’ Gently said, ‘it was subtle.’
‘Subtle my foot,’ Setters snarled. ‘Just subtle him along to the eight o’clock walk, that’s subtle enough for a thug like him.’
The phone belted. Setters snatched it.
‘It’s for you,’ he said. ‘I’m crossing my fingers.’
It was Pagram on the other end, he was sounding smooth and allusive. Gently moved his pipe across and kept puffing while he listened.
‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘Thank you. My congratulations to Narcotics.’ He paused some puffs. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Just send the report up by dispatch.’
