‘Comes of using bloody amateurs,’ growled Dover.
‘The cards were dealt face downwards on the table in the usual way. When they’d all been dealt, we picked our hands up and looked at what we’d got. Then we chucked them all back, face downwards, in a heap. Pettitt added the deuces and the jokers and we all cut and shuffled them again before they were put back in their box.’
MacGregor pursed his lips. ‘That seems safe enough,’ he said. ‘Only those who got them would know where the two vital cards had been dealt.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
‘Oh?’
‘I reckon Pettitt could have marked those two cards. Pricks on the back or something that he could have felt with his fingertips when he dealt them. After all, it’s no great shakes to re-seal a pack of playing cards, is it?’
Dover had been left way behind as usual. ‘What’s the point?’ he asked.
Osmond shrugged his shoulders. ‘They’d have a hold on you for life, wouldn’t they? They could blackmail you into doing anything for ’em for evermore. Or say you got the Knave of Clubs and just sat tight and didn’t kill Knapper. Well, the Steel Band couldn’t have let you get away with that, could it? They’d have had to dish out punishment for back-sliding like that – and quick! Me, if I’d been in Pettitt’s shoes, I’d have bloody well marked those cards.’
Dover wrinkled up his nose in fierce concentration. ‘So that grotty little toe doctor knows who the bloody murderer is?’
‘He might,’ agreed Osmond, ‘but there’s no proof. All I’m telling you is what flashed through my mind – and everybody else’s, I’ll bet. Whoever got either of those cards must have realised it wasn’t only Knapper’s life that was on the line – theirs was, too.’
‘I suppose there’s no chance you were one of the lucky lads?’
Osmond stared with considerable dislike at the grinning Dover. ‘My hand hadn’t got a face card of any sort in it,’ he said loftily. ‘And I’d barely had time to grasp that before Pettitt was telling us to throw the cards back into the middle of the table. That meant I didn’t get a chance to spot anybody else’s reaction.’
‘Pity,’ sneered Dover. ‘Then what?’
‘Time was getting on. It was late afternoon and Pettitt obviously wanted to get all his orders issued before supper. He told us that, whoever killed Knapper, they had to strip him as well and put all his belongings in a plastic bag for separate disposal.’
Dover shot into an upright position as though some public-spirited citizen had just sent a thousand volts through him. That woman!’ He flapped his hands at MacGregor. ‘Mrs What’s-her-name! The one with the bloody goats!’
‘Mrs Hall, sir?’
‘A pound to a penny she got rid of the clothes!’ Dover sank back exhausted.
MacGregor was not best pleased to have Dover making this connection (however elementary) and in front of witnesses. Dear heavens, another burst of inspiration like this and the Special Branch men would be thinking that Dover was the brains of the partnership. ‘Mrs Hall certainly mentioned that she’d despatched a bundle of old clothes to charity, sir. I suppose it’s possible that they belonged to Knapper.’
Osmond wasn’t interested. ‘I don’t know how they got rid of Knapper’s gear. All I know is the stuff Pettitt told us about how Knapper was to be killed and his body disposed of. Believe me, that was more than enough for me. Pettitt had to tell the lot of us, you see, because nobody knew who the murderer and his mate actually were.’
‘You’ve got to take your hat off to ’em,’ said Dover admiringly. ‘It’s all very clever. Where was Knapper when all this was going on?’
‘Right there in the room with us. He heard it all.’
‘This Steel Band lot don’t mess about, do they?’ asked Dover, who would have felt quite honoured to shake the hand of Ghengis Khan. ‘I suppose that’s when Knapper got the idea of swallowing the blue bead. You were bloody careless there, you know. If it hadn’t been for that bead, we’d have never bloody well got started.’
‘I know,’ agreed Osmond. ‘I’ve been wondering when he managed to do it. It must have been when he went to the toilet. He probably had a blue bead in his pocket or something.’
‘Didn’t you search him, for God’s sake?’
‘Only for weapons.’ Osmond got to his feet and stretched himself. He was a very physical young man and he was finding all this sitting around in smoke-filled rooms very tedious. He walked over to the window and peered out. ‘Who’d have thought a lousy blue bead was going to be that important.’
‘Were you told how Knapper was to be killed?’ asked MacGregor.
‘Lord, yes! Strangled from behind with,a piece of cord. Garotting.’
‘And getting rid of the body afterwards?’ MacGregor was finding it hard to believe all this. Surely even the upper echelons of the Steel Band wouldn’t indulge in such sadistic folly? ‘Were you given full instructions about that, too?’
Osmond shook his head and resumed his seat. ‘No, that was left up to the person concerned. Pettitt said he thought it would be better if the rest of us didn’t know where the body was concealed.’
‘That’s a bit funny, isn’t it?’ pressed MacGregor. ‘I
