Blame The Dead

'It isn't my business to go guessing, sir.' He slipped my report into a thin black plastic-leather briefcase and zipped it shut. 'But you did have a shooter and somebody did get shot.'

'How very true. Are you trying to get Mockby on conspiracy or accessory before?'

'I still couldn't say, sir.'

'How would the chief like a plea of guilty from the two goons and no other people or charges involved at all?'

After a time, he said slowly, 'Do you think you could arrange that, sir?'

'I think it might soft of arrange itself.'

He sat very still, working out the implications of this. Then he got up. 'I'll see what he says. That's all I can do.'

I poured another cup and waited. The phone pinged in the distance and slow footsteps came in behind me. 'No luck, huh?'

He says to mind your own bloody business and he's not making any promises to anybody.'

'Okay. There comes a time when you have to guard your own back.'

'The police guard people – sir. If the lady felt she was in danger she could have asked us.'

'And would you have come?'

'Nobody'll ever know, will they, sir?'

I nodded and stood up and walked with him to the front door. Away to the east there was a dirty yellow smear in the sky, right down on the horizon.

He stood on the steps in the cold nibbling wind and buttoned his coat. 'Are you really going to bugger things up?' he asked politely.

'I really couldn't say.'

'I'd've thought a man in your business would need friends in the police.'

"My business is what I've just been told to mind.'

He just nodded and walked down to his car.

Back inside the house, it was suddenly quiet again. The last bright-eyed young detective constables had finished their measurements and sketched out their plans and gone while we were in the dining-room. The study door was locked and guarded by a chair for when the fingerprint boys came around (it wouldn't do any good; both of them had worn gloves). I leaned against the wall by the downstairs phone and waited for the energy to go ahead and bugger things up, just like the sergeant had said.

Lois came out from the kitchen door behind the stairs. 'Have they all gone, Jamie?'

'All gone.'

She came and put one arm round my neck and leaned her head on my shoulder. 'I wonder what ever they thought -about you being here.'

'Just jealous.'

She looked up and smiled, then went serious again. 'I suppose – will it all come out in court? I'm thinking of David.'

'I don't know. Maybe not. I want to make a phone call that could help.'

She stood back briskly. 'Go ahead. Like me to put on bacon and eggs now?'

'That'd be fine.' She went away and I sat down and started dialling.

It rang only twice and the voice answering was remarkably wide awake for that time of day. 'Yes? Who is it?"

'Hello, Mockers. Card here.'

'Don't you know what time-'

'I'm calling on behalf of Charles. And his friend. They're sorry they can't do it themselves, but they're in the nick. Well, actually Charles is in hospital right now, but he'll be in the nick when he comes out.'

Pause. Then, 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'That's the spirit. Just keep that up and you may get away with it. Now, here's what you do: you get a solicitor and you get himfast. They've got the boy in the back room and they're working on him and they can do that for seventy-two hours unless somebody comes up with a habeas corpus writ. Then they'll have to charge him and stop questioning him. Same for Charles, of course, but it's not so urgent.'

Another pause. 'What the hell's all this to do with you?"

'Oh, I just happened to be staying at Kingscutt when your boys dropped in. It was me they fired that shotgun at."

'They did what?'That squawk was genuine, all right. Probably he'd told them not, repeat not, to take a gun and they'd known better.

'Afraid so. But most of it missed. Anyway, the point is they got them cold, on the premises, gun in hand, all the rest of it. So you spend a bit of time and a lot of money and you can get them to plead guilty.'

'What good's that to anybody?'

'You're not too bright at this time in the morning, are you? A guilty plea and there's no real triaclass="underline" no jury, no witnesses, no cross-examination, no awkward questions about who sent them or Mrs Fenwick saying you'd rung up about that log-book – remember? But don't take it from me, ask your solicitor.'

'I will, boy. But when did you get elected Jesus Christ? -you're getting something out of this.'

'I damn well hope so. I'd like to keep out of it as much as possible, but if I'm in then you're in and I'm standing on your shoulders. Ask your solicitor aboutthat, too.'

He worried at this for a while, then said carefully, "You lousy stinking rotten little son-of-a-bitch. Get off the line; I've got calls to make.'

'Now you're sounding more reasonable.'

We ate in the kitchen and I tried to explain what I'd been up to. Lois listened thoughtfully, then asked, 'But I don't see why those characters should plead guilty – what have they got to lose?'

'Depends what they're charged with. In a case like this the police like to have a real banquet, and the menu starts with attempted murder. After that, it comes down to wounding with intent to do grievous bodily harm and then unlawful wounding. They'd probably accept a plea of unlawful wounding plus a side dish from the Firearms Act. Possession with intent or carrying with criminal intent. They shouldn't get more than three years or so for that. But make a fight of it and it won't cost the cops any more to try for attempted murder and a life sentence. I think they'll plead.'

She mused on it, scooping delicately at a boiled egg. 'So Paul Mockby will get off scotfree?'

'I'd think so.'

'You don't sound as if you mind.'

'Maybe not… Iknow what he did. In a sort of way, knowing's enough. But it would never have been easy to involve him anyway. You can show Charles was his chauffeur, but it's a big long step to prove Mockby sent him down here. Even if Charles claimed it, no judge would let a jury convict on his word. And since Charles's pay has at least doubled since I talked to Mockby. I somehow doubt he'll do any implicating.'

'We implicated Paul, though, in those statements we made.' She pushed aside her egg and lit a cigarette.

'Witnesses' statements aren't evidence, not unless you try to deny them. Anyway, if they plead guilty there's no witnesses, no statements, nothing in court.'

'So – David won't have to know?'

I shrugged. 'You and I'll get mentioned at the trial; have to be. But maybe…'

'Well, I think you handled it all with great delicacy.'

'Don't sound so surprised.' I was wondering what a certain chief inspector would think of my handling when Mockby's solicitor suddenly landed on him waving a writ. I'd done more influencing people than making friends in the last night.

I looked at my watch – nearly seven, by now – and Lois caught the gesture. 'Are you off back to London now?' she asked, a little wanly.

I smiled as cheerfully as I could, and shrugged. 'I've got to go sometime, but…' I didn't really know what the hell Iwas going to do next I hadn't found the log, and it was a Saturday besides. "What are you going to do?'

'I've got to take the Rover down to the garage in the village; they're going to clean it and maybe make me an offer for it."

'You're not keeping it?'

'No. I can't think of it except as Martin's.' She shuddered at an abrupt memory. 'That means I've got to unpack it first. So I'd better get dressed.'

'Unpack it?'

'There's Martin's suitcase still in the trunk. I just kept putting off having to…'

'I'll do that.'

'You won't hurt your back?'