Gently Sinking (4 page)

‘That’s sugar for you,’ Grey said.

‘Sugar my arse,’ Tallent said. ‘Ozzie’s shot us the whole works. How he picked up the illegals, drove them to Brickfields.’

‘You shouldn’t listen to him,’ Grey said. ‘He’ll be your lousiest witness ever.’

‘How he dropped them off at the Coconut Grove.’

‘Their rum is smuggled,’ Grey said. ‘You know that?’

Tallent rocked his chair again, came back slit-eyed.

‘Only all that doesn’t matter, Grey, does it?’ he said. ‘We can forget the Immigration Act Sixty-two as of 10 p.m. Tuesday evening. That was a holding charge, sonny. You’re never going into court on that. Ozzie, yes. But you’re special. You we groom for the Old Bailey.’

‘What, me?’ Grey said.

‘Yeah, you,’ Tallent said. ‘We’ve been working on it, Grey, and you came out as the answer. Blackburn cheated you, didn’t he? Never paid you your proper share. And you, who set him up in the business. It’s open and shut, you’re our chummie.’

Grey polished his nails on his sleeve. ‘If you say so,’ he said. ‘May I smoke now?’

‘No,’ Tallent said. ‘You bloody mayn’t smoke now, Grey.’

Grey looked at his nails, polished some more.

‘I didn’t ought to have had an alibi,’ he said. ‘It’ll spoil it for you, me having an alibi. Perhaps we could work something out.’

‘We’ll work something out all right,’ Tallent said.

‘Yes, we’ll have to,’ Grey said. ‘Tuesday evening my wife and I took in a show at the Aldwych. I still have the ticket stubs somewhere. Can’t think why I held on to them.’

‘And that’s the big alibi?’

‘I’d say it was fireproof.’

‘You don’t know alibis, sonny,’ Tallent said. ‘That one we’ll split in twenty pieces. Went to a show with his wife, he says.’

Grey worked on his nails. ‘So nothing,’ he said. ‘Why are you trying to hang it on me? Maybe you can make like I could have had a motive, but that’s all. I’m not sweating.’

‘You know a better prospect?’ Tallent said.

‘Plenty,’ Grey said. ‘And they’re all black.’

‘But names you don’t come across with,’ Tallent said.

‘Even names,’ Grey said. ‘Maybe.’

He looked hard at Tallent, held out his hand. ‘This’ll be about time for that smoke,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a funny memory, Ozzie’ll tell you. I always remember better with a fag on.’

Tallent was still for a moment, then silently flipped a cigarette to Grey. Grey reached for the matches lying on the desk, lit the cigarette. Tallent watched him.

‘Yes,’ Grey said. ‘It helps me think. I ought to get plenty of fags in here. Don’t mind paying for them, of course. Wouldn’t dream of being a charge on the Special Fund.’

‘Don’t push your luck,’ Tallent said.

‘I was thinking of a deal,’ Grey said. ‘There’s so much I know you’d like to know. Think of the leg-hours it could save you.’

Tallent picked up a rule lying on the desk. He looked at it. He broke the rule in two. He laid the two halves back on the desk. He looked at Grey.

‘Go on,’ he said.

Grey savoured smoke. ‘I look at it this way. That charge about the illegals isn’t going to stick. There’s nothing that ties me in with that other than records of payments from Tommy. So why go treating me like a criminal? We could make life easier for each other. A few home comforts for me while I’m here, maybe the name of the killer for you.’

‘The name of the killer?’ Tallent said.

‘Maybe,’ Grey said. ‘A short-list, anyway.’

‘You said the killer.’

‘I’ll go with that. There’s one hot one. I’ll finger him.’

Tallent stared at the desk a while, then sent a quick look at Gently. Gently shrugged, made a motion with his hand. Tallent prodded the halves of his ruler.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’m promising nothing. We don’t do that sort of deal here, Grey. If you’ve any complaint to make I’ll deal with that, but nothing else. You with me?’

‘Oh quite,’ Grey said. ‘I’m short of fags.’

Tallent shimmied his packet across the desk. Grey slid the packet into his pocket, blew a smoke ring, smiled.

Now,’ Tallent said. ‘Give.’

‘Aaron Taylor,’ Grey said.

‘Who’s Aaron Taylor?’

‘A black kid. Works as a porter at Waterloo. Lives in Denbigh Street, Brickfields. You’ll find him hanging about the Coconut Grove.’

‘What about him?’

‘He’s the hot one. Used to be Sadie Sunshine’s boy-friend.’

‘Is she Sharkey’s missus?’

‘No. Sister. Good-looking girl who does a dance act.’

‘So how is he hot?’

‘Tommy fancied Sadie. Tommy usually got what he went after. Aaron moped around like a bear with mange. The wonder is he didn’t shiv Tommy sooner.’

‘Is that so?’ Tallent said. ‘And this Sadie Sunshine was Blackburn’s woman?’

‘Am I being helpful?’ Grey said. ‘Don’t let me waste your time or anything.’

Tallent chivvied the ruler. ‘How do you know this?’ he said. ‘Seems to me Blackburn wouldn’t broadcast it.’

‘Maybe not round his home patch he wouldn’t, but he wasn’t particular among the illegals.’

‘He had a liking for black girls?’

‘You got it. There’s good and bad black guys. I know some I like a lot, others are real mean bastards: Blackburn played around with them. They were his business. He owned a slice of the Coconut Grove. He spent a lot of his time down there, probably went there Tuesday evening.’

‘Owned a slice, did he?’ Tallent said, scribbling notes.

‘I’m giving you value,’ Grey said. ‘You didn’t know that.’

‘Never mind what I know or don’t know,’ Tallent said. ‘Keep singing, little bird.’

Grey smiled, puffed. He glanced at Gently. His quick eyes had no smile in them.

‘So that’s your best bet,’ he said. ‘Anguished Aaron, the ditched partner. Emotional type. Be heavy with him. Likely he’ll scream out a confession.’

‘How long was Blackburn going with Sadie?’ Asked Tallent.

‘A year maybe, maybe more.’

‘And Taylor was watching it, spying on them?’

‘Why not? He was always around. Sadie did her song-and-dance numbers, then she’d sit with Tommy and us. Sometimes we’d all go into the office, sometimes Sharkey’s rooms upstairs. Aaron was around. You’d catch him looking at Tommy. He never gave up on Sadie.’

‘Blackburn necked with her in front of him?’

‘Not in public,’ Grey said. ‘You got the message all right, mind. Sadie didn’t need pushing. Then later on, always late, they’d take off in Tommy’s car, and that’d be the last you’d see of them, and Tommy’d come in late in the morning.’

‘Taylor ever follow them?’

Grey shook his head. ‘I wasn’t there to keep tabs on Aaron.’

‘So why were you there?’

‘Say calypsos send me. And black girls are hot.’

‘Another one obsessed with black girls,’ Tallent said.

‘Is that a crime?’ Grey said. ‘Black women, pot, where’s the difference? I can take them or leave them be.’

‘Cocky sod,’ Tallent said.

‘Lucky for you,’ Grey said. ‘This cocky sod has fingered Aaron for you, given you names, a place to look.’

Tallent stared at Grey, chin lowered. Grey smoked, looked out of the window.

Gently asked, ‘What was the brother’s attitude to Miss Sunshine’s liaison with Blackburn?’

Grey looked towards him, thought a moment. ‘Not easy to read Sharkey,’ he said. ‘Tommy and him worked together. Tommy was taking him for plenty, but Tommy set him up to start with. Sharkey’s deep. I don’t think he worried. He’s got no chip on his shoulder for white guys. Sadie’s dead independent anyway, he never tells her what to do.’

‘Was there ill-feeling at the club about the
Naxos Island
?’

‘Some,’ Grey said. ‘You could feel the coolness.’

‘Were there any threats made?’

‘Not threats exactly. But like Tommy wasn’t top of the pops any longer. Before that Tommy went over pretty good. I believe he really liked the immigrants. He had an image, you know? He was taking their dough, but he was on their side.’

‘Did he have trouble with Mr Sunshine?’

‘Not in my hearing,’ Grey said. ‘They chewed it over in the office, outside Sharkey acted about the same.’

‘Did anyone you know lose a relative in the wreck?’

Grey hesitated, then shook his head.

‘You’re sure of that?’

‘Sure as I can be.’

Grey took a last lungful then stubbed his cigarette.

‘What part did Osgood play at the club?’

‘Osgood?’

‘Yes.’

Grey’s eyes were careful.

‘He just lived it up. Booze, bits. A simple soul is Ozzie.’

‘He had nothing to hide about that? Like telling us all you’ve just told us?’

Grey smiled. ‘Nothing special. He just wouldn’t tell you on principle.’

‘But you’ve told us.’

Grey’s smile went. ‘That’s different,’ he said. ‘I made a deal.’

‘So you did,’ Gently said.

Grey looked. He said nothing.

‘Like to sing some more?’ Tallent said, picking up the ruler-halves and grinding them in his hands.

‘No,’ Grey said. ‘That’s my lot. And I’d like a hot lunch if there’s one going.’

‘You better get out,’ Tallent said. ‘Before something interferes with your appetite.’

‘Thanks,’ Grey said. ‘Nice meeting you, gentlemen.’

‘Yeah,’ Tallent said. ‘So scram.’

Grey was escorted out. Tallent kneaded the ruler-halves some moments longer.

‘So what do you think, sir?’ he said at last. ‘Was that louse conning us into something?’

‘His facts probably check,’ Gently said. ‘Perhaps not the construction he wants us to put on them.’

‘He’d better say prayers,’ Tallent said. ‘If his alibi’s faked, he’ll need a parson.’

T
HEY DROVE TO
Brickhills in Gently’s car, Stout following in a Mini. Tallent was silent during the drive. He sat slumped, chain-smoking. They’d caught a sandwich and more coffee in the canteen in the bowels of HQ, a steaming basement room sharing space with a huge boiler and a jungle of pipes. Damp, hot-faced policemen had sprawled around them, apparently overawed by the presence of Gently. Gently had confounded them by removing his jacket and sitting in shirtsleeves, feet on a chair.

If anything, the rain was increasing, and the poor light brought a sparkle to shop windows. Nearing Brickhills they passed under railway viaducts and skirted a canal, wharves, scrapyards. Brickhills lay in S Division and Tallent had rung them before leaving. A Wolseley with flashing dome-light picked them up and headed them through dim streets. There, behind narrow pavements, low terrace houses huddled smokily. At street-corners poorly lit shops spread their wares on untidy forecourts. A few hunched figures hurried through the rain. Dark faces turned to watch the three cars.

The Wolseley bore right into a long straight cul-de-sac closed on one side by a sooty wall. Above the wall ranged signal gantries and the roofs of a train appeared creeping by. Opposite the wall were terrace houses, then a rag-dealer’s yard, then a blank-windowed depository. At the end of the street stood a former Railway Mission Hall. Its front was decorated with a painted cut-out of palm-trees.

The Wolseley pulled in and Gently parked behind it. A sergeant ran round to his window, saluted.

‘We’ve instructions to stay with you, sir,’ he said, when Gently slicked down the window.

Gently stared. ‘You’re expecting trouble?’

‘No, sir. Routine precaution. Some of the cheeky bastards round here might whip the wheels off your car.’

They got out.

In front of the Mission Hall was parked an old red Consul without hub-plates. Fat, inebriated letters jazzed across the cut-out read
The Coconut Grove Club.
Double doors stood open. A juke-box inside pounded calypso music. Tubs of plastic fern and nets of coloured coconuts furnished the small vestibule beyond the doors.

They pushed through glass swingers into what was still largely a mission hall. At the back the original platform was heavily masked with more cut-outs. The walls had been draped with dyed hessian to which were pinned silhouettes of dancing figures and cones issuing coloured light were mounted above to the naked tie-beams. On the right a bar counter had been constructed. It was heavily draped with the plastic fern. It incorporated a coffee-machine and the shelves behind it were well stocked. Cheap folding tables and stackable chairs occupied the stained parquet floor and the juke-box, cased in pink plastic, was stationed opposite the bar.

Beside the juke-box sat a black man staring at a glass of straw-coloured liquid. The juke-box was playing ‘Marianne’. The black man looked at the policeman, didn’t move. Tallent strolled over to him.

‘Up,’ he said.

The man looked at him, slowly rose. He was a tall, thick-featured man. He stood stooping, his long arms loose.

‘What’s your name?’ Tallent said.

‘How is that, sir?’ the man said.

Tallent stepped closer. ‘You deaf, boy?’ he said. ‘Don’t play dumb with me or I’ll push your teeth in.’

The black man edged back, eyes rimming white.

‘I don’t know you, sir,’ he said. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m John Birch,’ Tallent said, following up. ‘You heard of him, boy? Need an introduction?’

‘All right,’ Gently said. ‘We’re police officers. We want a word with Mr Sunshine.’

‘Yes, sir, yes, sir,’ said the man. ‘That surely is him who just walked in.’

He flapped a big hand at the counter. Behind it now a man was standing. He was a bearded man with a handsome face and a small ring in each ear. He was tall, wide-shouldered, and had finer cheekbones than most West Indians. He had large, steady brown eyes. The brown eyes were fixed on Tallent.

‘Well, well,’ Tallent said, striding to the counter. ‘Long time no see,
Mister
Sunshine. So you moved to the ghetto. You finally made it. Chiswick’s gain was Brickfield’s loss.’

The brown eyes didn’t flicker. ‘You got business with me, man?’ Sunshine said.

‘Yeah,’ Tallent said. He struck the counter. ‘And it’s
Sir
, when you’re talking to me,
man
,’ he said.

‘Man, you don’t change,’ Sunshine said.

Tallent went still. ‘Easy,’ he said. ‘Maybe you’ve forgotten the little talk we had by the river three years back. Maybe I should remind you.’