Sergeant, explain. And it had better be good.'
Chivers began to explain. When he got to the attack on Naysmith, it said much for Woodbine's humanity that concern for his neighbour temporarily overcame his own fury and fatigue.
'Felix attacked? My God. Is he going to be all right?'
'Can't say, sir. I've got Doberley at his bedside.'
'And what about Lucy? How's she?'
'Sir?' said Chivers, meaning never mind how's she, who's she?
'Still up at their cottage in Lincolnshire,' said Joe, squinting up at the superintendent.
Thank God she wasn't here,' said Woodbine. 'She'll have been told, I presume?'
'Thought it best to hold back till we got definite word from the hospital, sir,' said Chivers. It was a pretty good lie. Joe would have nodded appreciatively if nodding had been possible with his head resting on the blotter.
Woodbine was regarding him with a frown.
'Joe,' he said. 'Just what the hell are you doing here?'
'Came to try to help Mr. Naysmith,' said Joe. 'It was me who raised the alarm.'
Woodbine glanced at the sergeant for confirmation and got a vigorous shake of the head.
'Yes, it was,' said Joe indignantly. 'If I hadn't got Merv to ring you
'Alarm was raised by Constable Forton who I'd put on watch outside Mr. Naysmith's house, sir,' said Chivers. 'He saw a light flashing on and off in the hallway and went to investigate. Getting no reply at the front door he went round the back and found the kitchen door wide open and Mr. Naysmith lying injured on the floor.'
'And the flashing light?'
They've got like a swing door from the hallway to the kitchen, one of them that open either way like they have in restaurants, and the struggle must have banged up against it several times so the kitchen light showed intermittently in the hall.'
'Good job Forton was awake,' said Woodbine. 'So, Joe, I still don't understand why you're here. And for God's sake, you may be knackered, but you can't be as knackered as I am. If I can stand up to talk, so can you!'
'Can't,' said Joe. 'I'm chained to the desk.'
'What?' Woodbine peered down then straightened up, his face taut with anger.
'Sir,' said Chivers, desperately pre-emptive. 'Sixsmith was observed outside acting suspiciously and when one of your neighbours tried to effect a citizen's arrest, Sixsmith started an altercation and threw him to the ground.'
'One of my neighbours? Which one?'
Tallish gent, in his thirties, thick fair hair
'Lovely teeth,' said Joe. 'He was giving a party.'
'Sounds like Julian Jowett. And you say Joe threw him? But he used to be in the SAS.'
'Did he?' said Chivers. This confirms my suspicion that Sixsmith here's a lot more expert at the martial arts than he lets on ...'
'Please, Willie,' said Joe, deciding it was time to get familiar, 'if I promise I won't hurt the sergeant, can I be unlocked now?'
Woodbine said, 'Sergeant,' and Chivers reluctantly unlocked the cuff.
'That's better,' said Joe, massaging his wrist. 'Though I don't think I'll ever play the spoons again.'
'Joe, no jokes, not even if you know any good ones,' said Woodbine. 'Just tell me what you are doing here.'
Joe told him, keeping it simple. Woodbine glanced interrogatively at Chivers who reluctantly confirmed that yes, there was a phone in the kitchen where Naysmith had evidently been having a snack meal; yes, it had been hanging off its hook; and yes, he would check to see if there'd been a 999 call from the Glit, and also whether Joe had been there at the time he said.
The sergeant left the room. In the silence that followed, a voice from the phone on the desk could be heard. Woodbine picked it up, said, 'Soon as possible, sir,' and replaced it.
'Some idiot wanting a taxi,' he said. 'Now, Joe, one thing you didn't say was why you were phoning Felix Naysmith.'
That had been part of keeping it simple. Even with Doubting Chivers out of the room, Joe felt uneasy about producing the remarkable coincidence of Merv's mis dialled number. But Willie had shown he trusted him and in Joe's book, trust given deserved honesty returned.
'How'd you get the number, by the way?' said Woodbine casually. 'From the book, was it?'
It was tempting to say, 'That's right,' and let it go. But he put temptation aside and began, 'Well, actually...' when something in the superintendent's casual tone tugged at his inner ear. If the answer, 'That's right,' was satisfactory, then it wasn't a question worth asking, was it? Which, if it was, meant, 'That's right,' would be some sort of giveaway. Like for instance if Naysmith's number wasn 't in the book. 'How did you get this number?' the lawyer had asked angrily when he realized who he was talking to. Implying, not out of the book. And he knew from Butcher that being a smartass lawyer he kept his holiday cottage number ex-directory, so he probably did the same with his home number to keep anxious clients out of his domestic space. Which good neighbour Willie would know ... which meant the suspicious so-and-so was laying little traps in case Joe had something to hide.
So much for trust! OK, he didn't have anything to hide in the sense of anything worth hiding but what he did
