Cold, Lone and Still

I were able to provide alibis for one another irrespective of shop girls, cinema attendants and all the rest of it, so long as the police were prepared to take the word of an engaged couple. All the same, I still hoped that nobody had mentioned to Bingley the punch-up I had had with Carbridge at Crianlarich.

It was at this point in my meditations that our unexpected client arrived and was announced by the hierarchy in ascending order of importance thus:

Briggs to Polly: ‘Little old geezer stinking of mothballs in his best suit wants to see Mr Melrose.’

Polly to Elsa: ‘Something off the shop floor called Bull is asking for Mr Melrose and won’t be happy till he gets him.’

Elsa to me: ‘There’s a Mr Bull, Comrie. Seems harmless, but may have a bomb concealed on his person.’

Trickett: ‘Oh, well, I’ll be going. Do what you can for Bull, won’t you?’)

Me: ‘Show the visitor in. Goodbye, then, Lucius.’

Elsa (when Trickett had gone): ‘I don’t know where you pick them up, but it’s your choice.’

Our visitor was Bull. He was impressed by his reception, it appeared, but slightly morose about it.

‘It’s as bad as tryin’ to get into Buck’nam Palace without an invite,’ he said, ‘though that’s been done, too, I berlieve.’

‘I know. Never mind. Take a seat. Any news?’

‘Not of the kind you means. That dick is still measurin’ out my footprints, so to say. I can’t get him off my back no-how. But that’s not what I come about.’

‘I can’t give you a job here, I’m afraid.’

‘You can and you can’t. Any road, young Trickett said come to you, so I’ve come.’

‘Trickett? So that’s what he came about! Say on!’

‘I wants to write me life story.’

‘That sounds a tall order.’

‘So it would be if I was to do your actual writin’, but that ’ud be beyond me. I’ve forgot most of the schoolin’ I ever had. So I goes to the Citizens’ Advice, see, and puts it to ’em and there was a young feller there seemed interested and he says, quite serious-like, “What you need is a ghost,” he says. I thinks he’s havin’ me on, but no.’

‘No, he wasn’t having you on,’ I agreed. ‘It’s often done. One party supplies the information and the other party — usually a trained journalist —writes it up and takes a share of the proceeds or else is paid for his work by the principal in the undertaking.’

‘Right. So, not knowin’ no one, I asks young Trickett and he advises me to come to you to see what chance I got and to pave the way, like.’

‘Not a lot of chance of publication, I’m afraid,’ I said regretfully. ‘You see, Bull, autobiographies and biographies have to be about well-known people whom other people are interested in.’

‘Wouldn’t they be interested in a hangman’s deperty assistant? There’s plenty in favour of bringin’ back the rope, you know.’

‘But you can’t mean —’

‘Oh, yes, and better nor that. Went back to me real name, of course, when I took the job at the hall of residence. The warden knows me personal history, but nobody else. Lost me position, you see, never mind why; it will all be in the book. I didn’t fancy comin’ down to bein’ a screw at Parkhurst or Dartmoor or wherever it would have been. Me life wouldn’t have been worth a dog-biscuit among a buggerin’ lot of bloody murderers, specially with a name like mine.’

‘You astound me, Bull, you really do! The only thing is that I’m pretty sure it’s been done already, you know — this autobiography of a public executioner.’

‘Oo by?’

‘I couldn’t say off-hand.’

‘So nor couldn’t nobody else, then, could ’em? Look, supposin’ as how whoever it is and me gets the book wrote up and put in typin’, what’s the chance you’ll take it on and see it through for us?’

‘It would depend entirely upon how good a book it was, and I warn you that our standards are high. We’re not in the market for duds. We have our reputation to consider. Look here, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If I can find you a reputable “ghost”, I’ll let you know; and if we recommend a ghost-writer, it will be a good one. I would have to arrange a meeting, though, to make sure that the journalist is willing to take the job on. I’ve got somebody in mind, as a matter of fact, but I’m not sure that yours is a job which would appeal to a woman.’

‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Mr Melrose. Be seein’ you. Thought you might be interested.’

‘All right, Bull. I’ll look into it. By the way, what makes you think that, when hanging was done away with, they would make you a screw at one of HM prisons?’

‘Why wouldn’t they? I’d given good service, hadn’t I? Got testimonials, haven’t I, for all they’re writ in a foreign langwidge.’

‘I shouldn’t have thought you were tall enough to take a job as a prison warder. You weren’t tall enough to put that electric light bulb back without a ladder, were you?’

I could see he thought the reference to the past was rather tactless. As soon as he had gone, I called in Sandy and Elsa. When Elsa had finished laughing, she said, ‘Why don’t you kill two birds with one stone?’