Alibi

Before he could answer, Coppell snorted again.

“Well, let’s hear more. You wouldn’t stick your neck out unless you had a reason, even if a bloody bad reason. The Home Office is on the warpath, so your explanation had better be good.”

Roger’s heart dropped.

“There’s been a lot of cannabis and some heroin pushed in and around Doons Way, which is a short street with some small clubs and a lot of noise,” he stated. “I thought that the man Rapelli was involved. I was afraid that if Rapelli was out on bail he himself might be attacked next.”

“You just thought,” breathed Coppell.

“I also knew that some of the clubs stage occasional sex orgies in the upper rooms and that this witness— Dunster —runs around with some pretty funny people. All-in all, I decided it was worth letting the witness and her counsel and the court know what I knew. And I gambled on Gunn letting it pass with an apology.”

“Just as you gambled on quietening me down with one,” Coppell said.

Then Danizon came in with a cup and saucer, looking almost pleadingly at Roger for approbation. Roger took the cup and saucer.

“Thanks. Oh, sergeant—has Mid-Western Division called?”

“Not—not lately, sir.”

“If anyone calls from there, put the call through to me.”

“Right, sir !” Danizon backed out with obvious relief, and Roger began to pour tea. At least he knew that Coppell liked his strong, with plenty of sugar.

“We’ve so much drug pushing going on I think the gamble was worth it. But I can’t see Rachel Warrender defending anyone involved in drugs. I think the alibi was a phoney,” he went on, “but I’m not sure drugs are the trouble. I am sure Rapelli’s terrified.”

“There are orgies,” Coppell pointed out. “The alibi could be genuine.”

“Yes, indeed.” Roger handed him a cup of tea and held out the sugar bowl. “But if the Dunster girl is telling the truth, then two witnesses that I have, who swear they saw Rapelli’s attack on Verdi, are lying. And I don’t think they are.”

“Now I begin to see daylight,” breathed Coppell. “You think the defence was trying to discredit police witnesses in advance?”

“I haven’t the slightest reason to think our witnesses are lying,” Roger replied. “I’ve seen them both after the court hearing. Had to go to a cabinet-making factory in Wandsworth for one and a bakery in Bethnal Green for the other, but their evidence will be all we need. I had to make sure of that, in view of what I’d done in court.”

Coppell gulped down his tea.

“So you’ve some sense. And we’ve two witnesses against Rapelli’s three,” he went on, musingly.

“I can’t imagine any jury believing the sex-party evidence,” said Roger. “The Dunster girl is perfectly capable of that sort of thing, as I said, all the same—” He paused.

Coppell looked at him intently.

“Carry on.”

“Well, sir—” Roger paused again. “The whole thing’s too slick, too convenient for Rapelli, for my liking. The girl’s a thorough bad lot all right, and more than capable of perjuring herself, which was what I meant to show the court when I said what I did. But even though I myself gave it to her on a plate—” Roger smiled ruefully “—I’m just not happy about this alibi.”

Coppell frowned.

“What do you intend doing now?” he asked.

“Well, sir, I’d like to check on who else was supposed to be participating in the fun and games at Maisie Dun- ster’s apartment. I tried this afternoon, in fact, but no one was home. The apartment is in an old house converted into flats or flatlets, and all the tenants seem to work. They were out, anyway. Then I tried to get a line on Rachel Warrender’s recent activities, but drew a blank. Her father is the Member of Parliament and the firm of Warrender, Clansel and Warrender is a very old and reputable one. None of the partners was in and none of the clerks would talk about the girl. I also tried to get a line on Rapelli’s recent movements, and again drew a blank. He says he’s a translator for magazines and publishers of English into Italian and vice versa, but nothing much has turned up about him. I can’t yet prove he’s involved in drugs.” Roger gave a short, rueful grimace. “And when I started out this morning I thought we might really have a line on the drug business, while the case against Rapelli seemed cut and dried. It wasn’t until Rachel Warrender came to see me and threatened to produce her witnesses for Rapelli that things began to misfire.”

Coppell’s eyes rounded.

“She did what?”

“Only half an hour before Rapelli was due in the dock. I went over to the court as soon as I could and arrived just in time. I wanted to make sure Leeminster wasn’t on his own when she arrived. If there was going to be trouble, I wanted to be in the middle of it.”

“You certainly are that,” growled Coppell. “Where are the defence witnesses now?”

“Division is checking up on them,” answered Roger, and I expect word any time.” When Coppell didn’t speak, he went on, “It’s a peculiar case in every way. Ricardo Verdi and some friends were at a small private club, where they have so-called musical evenings—a record club, I gather, with some instrument playing. Division now says there’s no evidence of pot or of anything erotic —the members like off-beat music and go there to enjoy it. Something happened between Rapelli and Verdi and Rapelli struck Verdi over the head with an electric guitar.”

Coppell echoed, “A guitar?”