“Don’t kid yourself! He was coming to see me and he got bumped off. If I’d done it all by telephone no one would have been any the wiser, but I had to meet him in public.”
“But you often do, don’t you?”
“Oh, we have a pint together, sometimes. But that’s not the point.” Lemaitre was determinedly troubled and disconsolate. He took out a packet of cigarettes and put one to his lips, then went still, obviously recalling that Gideon very seldom smoked these days, and that whenever he did, it was a pipe. He took the cigarette from his lips.
Gideon pushed an ashtray towards him, and with visible relief, Lemaitre lit up.
“Ta.”
“Have we anything else — anything about the actual murder?” asked Gideon.
“Not much-not enough,” answered Lemaitre, through a cloud of smoke. “I’ve seen his Missus, poor little bitch. I didn’t realise how much Charlie mattered to her. You can never tell, can you? The moment his back was turned she was an easy lay, but she’s absolutely prostrate now he’s gone. Bit of guilt involved, maybe, she —”
“Guilt?” interjected Gideon sharply.
“Oh, not guilt about this flicking murder. I meant about the boy-friends. Anyway, George, he left at eight o’clock last night for the Old Steps. Hadn’t told her he was coming to see me, she didn’t have any idea. I’d give a lot to find out who did know! He was going to walk-used to be a long-distance walker, did you know? That was the last wifey saw of him. He was seen by a couple of our chaps walking towards Wapping High Street, and that’s the last anyone saw of him, too. Except for one funny thing, George.”
“Yes?” prompted Gideon.
“He was seen by a truck driver — chap who’s often at the Old Steps-on one side of the road. High Street, I mean. He noticed a taxi, drawn up about half a mile from the park, and Charlie talking to the cabby, and when the taxi moved off, Charlie’d gone. He could have turned down a side street, or taken the cab. Mind you, might be nothing in it,” Lemaitre went on, warily, “I don’t want to take anything for granted. But I’m following it up. If Charlie was going to walk, he was going to walk, he wasn’t going to take any cab.”
“Have you traced the cab?”
“Started work on it just before I left H.Q. The truck-driver didn’t notice its number, but it was a black Austin with a mottled top, 1958 or 1959. Not too many of those still about-and those there are, are mostly owner-driven, these days.” Lemaitre paused just long enough to stub out one cigarette and to fight another before going on: “Got the autopsy report, that’s one thing.” He opened the briefcase. “Manual strangulation. No water in the lungs, nothing in the way of bruises or scratches. He was standing or sitting in front of someone who just put his hands round his throat and choked the life out of him.” Lemaitre drew very hard at his cigarette, but Gideon did not interrupt. Then Lemaitre” pushed a photograph of a thumb print, very much enlarged, and for the first time spoke on a note of elation. “When we get the bastard, that will fix him! On a patch of ointment he had on his neck. He used the ointment regularly, because he often had this rash in hot weather,” Lemaitre went on. “Bit of luck, that.”
“Checked Records?” asked Gideon.
“Blimey, yes!”
“Want any help tracing that taxi?”
“I’ve given it to Info, for a general call.”
Gideon smiled appreciatively. “Still on the ball, eh, Lem?” He gave Lemaitre time enough to savour that rare compliment, and then went on: “Exactly what did Charlie Blake tell you?”
“Not much,” admitted Lemaitre. “But in a way, it was plenty. He travelled first-class on the QE2, his once a season trip. Worked his passage with his cards, but he never was a card-sharp. Couple of men were talking in a corner of the smoking-room, and he was sitting with his back to them — they didn’t notice a little squirt like Charlie. Yanks, they were. They talked about the way they and someone in London were going to fix the Derby. Some new drug which couldn’t be traced once it was absorbed in the system. A slow—’em-down drug, which they’d give all the runners, except the one they were backing to win. The winner couldn’t possibly be involved — he would just be doing his best, not drugged at all.” Lemaitre stubbed out his second cigarette but did not light a third. “Charlie said they mentioned a couple of names and he was going to check on them.”
“Did he name these two Americans?” asked Gideon.
“Not to me,” Lemaitre said.
“Do you know if anyone else heard the conversation?”
“No, George. You know the problem; face to face with a man, you can pick up a lot you can’t on the telephone. That’s why I arranged to meet him. You know what a din there is over at the Old Steps-you can’t hear yourself speak unless you’re used to it and get in a huddle. When you’re talking, no one else can hear you because of the racket. You should have heard them last night —” He broke off, seeing Gideon’s expression, and changed the subject hastily. “Obviously the smoking-room stewards on the QE2 might have heard something. Mines of information, those chaps are.”
Gideon stared at him, but his thoughts had flown to the smoking-room of the S.S. Fifty States when he had sailed to New York a few years earlier. The stewards were indeed mines of information, maintaining a sphinx-like exterior whatever their secret knowledge. And they may well have heard the one particular and other relevant conversations. He noticed that Lemaitre had fallen silent, as if he felt this hard stare was of disapproval, as he asked: “Where’s the QE2, now?”
“Two days out of London heading west,” Lemaitre answered promptly. “I thought of that, too.”
“Have you talked to Cunard?”
“Er — no, George. Only to find out where the ship is. It’s going to be pretty late when she gets back to Southampton. Three days more on this trip, two days in New York for the turn round, then five days back here — the Derby will be on top of us.”
“Yes. Lem, talk to the Cunard people in Haymarket. Go and see them, if it will help. Find out whether the smoking-room stewards who were on board on the last trip from New York are on board now. If they are, we know what to do. If they’re having a trip off, find out where they are and when we can talk to them.”
