The Frightened Man

‘Just giving you what I was told, sir. Please to tell me where you can be found.’

Denton changed his clothes, realizing that he felt guilty and that the suit was incriminating. In law, he assured himself, he had done nothing by going to Mulcahy’s Inventorium — a bit of breaking and entering, perhaps, but hardly at a level to interest Munro — and in fact he had done the Metropolitan Police a favour. Unless he’d gone down the roof and seen the body, there’d have been no justification for their going into the Inventorium, as he was sure they’d done by now.

A public benefactor, he thought. The truth was, he’d set himself against doing anything that could help Guillam, and he was damned if he would tell Guillam first about what he thought he’d found in the Inventorium. As a result, he’d sent a note about it to Munro. On the other hand, what he’d learned from Janet Striker’s girls, although it hadn’t been much, was his, and he’d keep that to himself. And as for his having told Atkins that he’d washed his hands of it, well — that had been before he’d crossed the roof.

He ate something sent in from the Lamb and sat staring at a book, saying nothing to Atkins about where he’d been or what he’d done, not wanting to involve him. Atkins had forgone the hard hat that had crowned his bandages. Dressed now in a sober suit, he looked almost normal except for his tight white turban. Looking at the suit that Denton had worn to cross Mulcahy’s roof, he made noises and raised his eyebrows and muttered ‘Bloody hell’. Getting nothing from Denton, he had snatched up the suit and said, ‘Can’t weave a new seat into these trousers, you know.’

‘What’s wrong with the old seat?’

‘Ha-ha. You got a new pal with rawhide chair seats, or where were you today?’

‘Mind your own business, Sergeant.’

Munro came at last after nine. Denton heard him limping up from the front door, his breathing heavy. His face, appearing in the doorway, was exhausted and angry.

‘Well,’ Denton said. Munro waved a hand, as if the idea of Denton wore him out. He wouldn’t sit. Denton, nervous and trying to seem calm — nervous because he liked this man and wanted to be liked by him — sat, offered drink, food, finally silence.

After the silence had got long and ugly and then threatening, Munro said, ‘You were in that damned place today.’ His voice expressed controlled outrage.

‘What place?’

‘Don’t try that on with me! You put me in the middle of this business instead of going to any copper on the street as you should have! Well, by God, I’m not going to make it easy for you! What the hell were you trying to do, Denton? Did you think I’d lie for you?’

‘I thought you’d do exactly what I believe you did — turn it over to the right people.’

‘Oh, is that what you thought! You mean, anybody but Guillam, isn’t that what you thought? Well, you guessed right; I didn’t take it to Guillam. You got me bang on with that, Denton. I didn’t see it right off; then it was too late. You knew I’d keep it away from Guillam so I wouldn’t stir him up — and that’s exactly what I did.’ Munro looked at him bitterly. ‘You didn’t even tell me it was Mulcahy.’

‘I couldn’t know it was Mulcahy.’

‘Straight below his window and you didn’t know it was Mulcahy! What do you take me for, an idiot?’

‘What makes you think I was inside that room?’

Munro pushed his hands so deep into his trouser pockets he seemed hunched. ‘You’re too good an old copper not to have been.’

‘Two padlocks on the door. No keys.’

‘You went over the roof, don’t guy me.’

‘I’m afraid of heights, Munro.’

‘Yeah? Show me the physician who’s treated you for it.’

‘Heights terrify me.’

‘You went over the roof! Look me in the face and deny it — go on! Will you lie in my face, man?’

Denton looked at the exhausted, angry eyes and couldn’t hold them. He glanced away; Munro gave a sigh of disgust. Lamely, Denton said, ‘Guillam doesn’t care rat’s piss about Mulcahy.’ He turned back, almost pleading. ‘Guillam tossed aside a list I paid people to drag out of the directories of all the R. Mulcahys like it was, was — trash!’

‘This isn’t Guillam, Denton. This is me.’

‘Guillam’s the police.’

‘I’m the police.’ He pointed a thick finger. ‘You had no business going in that room!’

Again, Denton couldn’t face him. After several seconds, he got out of his chair and paced up the room to get away, then went on and fetched himself a brandy from the alcove and a bottled ale for Munro. He felt bone-weary now, hardly able to haul himself back up the room.

Munro opened the big bottle with a tool from his pocket and watched a mushroom of foam rise to the lip and subside. He sat down, poured ale into a glass. ‘You should have gone to a police station.’

‘I went to you.’

‘You sent a bloody note!’ Munro’s voice had risen and he knew it. ‘You look like death. Where’s your sling for that arm?’ Before Denton could answer, he growled, ‘It must have been hell going down the last pitch of that roof. No wonder you look bad.’ He sipped the beer, repressed a sigh of satisfaction, but he was over the worst of his anger now. In a voice more weary than enraged, he said, ‘You could be up on a charge, Denton.’

‘For what?’

‘Trespassing. Destroying evidence, if somebody like Guillam got hold of it. And if you come up on a charge, you can kiss living in England goodbye! If Guillam doesn’t see to it, I bloody well will!’

‘Hasn’t Guillam got it by now?’

‘I went direct to N Division and got a not very bright detective named Evans up to Mulcahy’s place with a couple of constables, and so far it’s an N Division matter. I told Evans we had an informer who said there was a body — now, that won’t last past Evans’s first report, and it won’t make it to the coroner, because N Division aren’t simpletons — but it’ll do for tonight and maybe tomorrow morning. By that time, if you’re lucky, Evans will have his jaws tight around the case and he won’t give it up to Guillam or the devil himself. Guillam’ll hear about it like everybody else in a day or two, and that’ll be that.’

‘Thanks.’

‘There’ll be nothing to thank me for unless you tell the truth. Tell me and then tell Evans.’

‘What’s the truth?’

‘Goddamnit, Denton, don’t try that! Your buttock’s in the crack in the privy seat, and I’m not entirely out of it myself, thanks to you. Look — I didn’t tell Evans that a gentleman author sent me a note about this body he found, but if I had, you’d be at N Division right now explaining all the hows and whys and wherefores.’ Munro took a gulp of beer. ‘I’m giving you a chance to tell them to me first.’

‘Concoct a tale?’

‘I’d punch another man for saying that to me. I don’t concoct tales and I don’t help other people concoct them. No, I want the truth. And the truth is what’ll go into the case file.’ He heaved his bulk up and stood facing Denton. ‘You and I’ve been square with each other, haven’t we? We seemed to hit it off.’ He was embarrassed by this revelation. ‘Don’t make things worse — get it?’

‘I looked through a crack in a wooden fence that runs alongside that tall brick building. I saw a body.’

‘You can’t see the body through the fence. I tried.’

‘I’m taller than you are.’

‘Don’t do this, Denton!’

Denton sipped the brandy and, finding it too much, set it down. ‘What is it you think I did?’

‘You broke the lock on a trapdoor to the roof and climbed down to Mulcahy’s window and saw him and then went into his room.’

‘I broke no lock.’

‘Denton, two people will testify they saw you in the building. I can put you there, man.’

‘I was in the building — of course I was. And, yes, I found the stairs to the roof. But the padlock on the trap was already broken. I didn’t break it.’ He crossed the few feet to the window.