I shall indeed, thought Wield, trying desperately to interpret this unforeseen turn. I shall indeed.
And he did. It was stupidly simple.
'It's the other way round, isn't it, Frankie?' he said softly. 'It's not been him alibi-ing you, but you alibi-ing him.'
He let go of the hands. He had no need of contact now. He had a stronger, better kind of grip on Pickersgill, the grip of a charge he could make stick.
'You lied about him being here that night. That's obstruction, Frankie. At the very least, we've got you for obstruction.'
The long thin face was sullen and uncertain.
'I don't know what you're on about,' he said.
It's Janey, thought Wield. Janey's told him the beating was enough. But it's a long way from being enough in Frankie's eyes.
'All right,' he said. 'You'd better come down to the nick with me, Frankie.'
'What the hell for?'
'Just to keep you out of the way, mainly,' said Wield. 'Though we'll think of something better for your brief. You'll need a brief, Frankie. You see, after I've shut you up, I'm going back to the hospital where I'll tell Ron you've shopped him for the Spinks job. Now, I reckon he's going to tell me you were the other man on that job.'
'Me! Do a job with that cowboy? You know that's not on, Mr Wield!'
'Mebbe I do, mebbe I don't. Who was the second man then, Frankie? Come on, lad. You know the watchman's dead. You don't want to be mixed up in this any more than you have to. Who was he?'
Again the unexpected reaction. A sort of triumphant amusement emerging in a raucous rush of laughter which almost drowned the noise of a door opening.
Almost.
Wield spun round and darted into the long narrow entrance hall. The front door was shut but at the other end the door which led into the kitchen was wide open and through it Wield could see a figure fumbling at the exit to the back yard.
It must have been locked. It was only half open when Wield reached him, hands flat and stiff like butcher's cleavers. The figure turned, his hands raised also. But one look at the pale and frightened face told Wield that the only intention here was a terrified defence.
Lowering his own arms, he smiled, the smile playing round his pitted face like a butterfly on a slag heap.
In response the other relaxed also and let his hands fall slowly from before his youthful anxious features.
'Hello, Tommy,' said Wield.
Chapter 19
Statement of Thomas Arthur Maggs made at Mid-Yorkshire Police HQ in the presence of Detective-Sergeant V. K. Wield.
‘I'm sorry about all the trouble I've caused. I didn't mean it but there didn't seem much else to do. It was all on top of me and Ron said I'd be dropping him in the shit if I told the truth but likely I would have done if the watchman hadn't died. I want whoever killed Brenda to get caught even though whatever they do to him won't be enough. But I didn't want to go to prison myself not for murder which is what I knew I'd get done for even though I never touched the man. That was Ron. I know it doesn't make any difference because I was there anyway, but it was Ron not me that hit him.
'It was all Ron's idea really. Brenda should have met me in the Bay Tree at eight o'clock that night only she didn't turn up. I wasn't all that surprised because we'd had a big row the previous night. It was about how far we should go now we'd got engaged. We'd just got engaged and I thought we could do it, I mean, go all the way now that it was fixed we were going to marry, but she wouldn't. Not inside her. Everything else, but not inside her and I got a bit annoyed and so did she. So when she didn't turn up, I thought she was just carrying on the row.
'Ron was there and we drank together till nearly nine. It was very crowded by then and I was a bit pissed off with being stood up so we went off to have a drive around and see what we could find to do. Ron had a bottle of whisky and we thought we might find some spare and go for a drive. We looked in a couple of places but there wasn't much on and we ended up parked alongside Spinks's warehouse having a drink when Ron said why shouldn't we do it? So we did. It was just a bit of fun till the watchman came. It was dead easy getting in and we'd found a box full of pocket transistors when this old fellow comes through the door, waving a torch. Ron hit him and pushed him over and we ran. We only had a couple of transistors apiece but it didn't matter because like I say it still seemed just a bit of fun.
'But when the car broke down on the way home, we got worried. So Ron stuffed all the transistors up his bomber jacket and he took off with them in case anyone should come along asking questions. The coppers rolled up just a few minutes later so I told them I'd been out with my girl-friend and she'd set off home by herself when the car broke down. Then they tested me and took me in for a blood test so I had to keep on lying especially as I heard they'd found out about the break-in while I was there and the watchman was badly hurt.
'Next morning I tried to ring Brenda at the bank to square things with her, but she wasn't there. And when the police came round to the garage later on and told me she'd disappeared, I was worried sick. Ron said I'd better stick to my story. It'd be daft to say something that incriminated us, then find that Brenda had just gone off somewhere in the huff. I didn't think she had, though. She wasn't that sort of girl. When they came round and told me they'd found her, I was so sick I thought I'd die. I didn't know what to do. I mean, I wasn't thinking at all. I just wanted to curl up. Ron said to keep quiet still because by now the watchman was critical. But it wasn't just that. I just couldn't think of doing anything because all I could think of was Brenda.
'Then the watchman died and I was a bit better by then and wondering what I should do. But when he died it was as bad as ever, so I took off in the car. It got me as far as Watford Gap, then it broke down. I sat around for a bit drinking tea and thinking of hitching a ride to London. But in the end I just crossed the motorway and got a lift back north. I've been living with Ron round at his sister's house since then. I didn’t know what to do after the fight but Janey said it would be all right, Ron had had it coming to him, but it was over now and nothing more would happen. Then Mr Wield, Sergeant Wield that is, came round and I listened and I could see that he was on to us and I decided I'd better get away again.
'I'm really sorry about all this and I'm sorry the watchman's dead and I wish he wasn't but I want to do anything I can to help the police catch whoever it was that killed my Brenda.'
'That'll grab them in the gallery,' said Dalziel. 'There'll be more water in the jury box than on a test match wicket at Manchester.'
'I feel sorry for the lad,' said Wield quietly.
'That's a bad sign, Sergeant. Next thing you'll be putting stamps on your Christmas cards.'
Dalziel yawned. It was eight-thirty on Saturday morning. After Maggs had made his statement the previous night, Dalziel had talked to him earnestly for nearly two hours, going over everything again and again. His instinct had been to explore the new dimensions opened up by the statement instantly, but in the end he had decided to sleep on it, using as a soporific half a bottle of Scotch.
Now he was stretching himself, ready for action.
The news from the hospital was that Dave Lee had had a good night. Better still from Dalziel's point of view had been the confirmation of the hospital diagnosis a perforated ulcer whose condition could hardly have been aggravated by a blow to the stomach. Ludlam too was doing well. He had refused to say anything when questioned briefly after Maggs's statement and the doctor had insisted that the interview be postponed till the morning. But Frankie Pickersgill had talked freely till Janey arrived on the scene and let her split loyalties tear her into hysterics.