‘What you might call,’ Slider said, looking round at the happy faces, ‘a motorized transport.’ Given that the carcase belonging to the number was mouldering in its unmarked gave, it was the strongest indication that they were on the right lines.
‘The first ping is at the West Cross roundabout,’ Atherton enthused, ‘a few hundred yards from Masbro Road and the obvious way out of Shepherd’s Bush for anyone trying to get far, far away in as short a time as possible.’
The computer picked it up on the A40 at Hanger Lane, and then at Henley’s Corner on the North Circular, turning on to the M1. At Five Ways Corner, where the M1 and the A41 join, it was seen again, and at Apex Corner it was on the A41. The final ping caught it at the roundabout where the A410 joins the A41.
‘Nothing after that,’ Hollis said, ‘so it didn’t stay on the A41, or it would’ve been caught at the next roundabout, which is the M1 Junction 4.’
‘If he’d wanted to be on the M1 he wouldn’t’ve come off at Five Ways,’ McLaren pointed out.
‘So the assumption is he came off on to the A410, and since the car – or at least the number plate – doesn’t appear again, he must have gone to ground somewhere near there,’ said Slider.
‘The number hasn’t been noted anywhere since,’ Atherton confirmed. ‘Though we asked Hendon to keep a look out, in case it moves again.’
‘And by a strange and yet delightful coincidence, the first place on the A410 is Stanmore,’ said Slider. ‘Ladies and germs, I think we have our getaway car.’
‘Now all we have to do is find the driver,’ Atherton said. ‘It’s a pity the computer didn’t give us a good look at him.’
‘This is the best photo,’ Hollis said, ‘when he were stopped at traffic lights on the A410 roundabout, but it’s not clear. You can see it’s a man, dark-haired, with a dark top on.’
‘It could be Frith,’ Atherton said, leaning over the print. ‘Can’t tell for certain. He’s tall enough, and he’s got enough hair.’
Slider also looked. ‘Frith was very tanned. Doesn’t this man look a bit pale?’
‘Just the way the light works,’ Atherton said. ‘You can’t tell if he’s tanned or not. The more I look at it, the more it looks like Frith to me.’
‘Hmm,’ said Slider. ‘Not certain enough. Pity. We need to get Frith’s fingerprints to rule him definitely in or out. Unless Connolly establishes an alibi for him, I’m getting close to the point where I think we’ll have to pay another visit to Ealing Common – loath as I am to upset them needlessly – just so we don’t keep chasing our tails. But first let’s have a look at the scrapyard, take this photo, such as it is, along, see if someone who looks like this was hanging around there recently.’
‘Send McLaren,’ Atherton suggested. ‘He can talk cars for hours.’
Slider looked at his watch. ‘Too late tonight. They’d be shut by the time he got there. It’ll have to be tomorrow morning.’
Connolly was back from Hemel Hempstead, looking pleased with herself. Slider, Hollis and Atherton were still in the factory, Slider toiling over the paperwork, Hollis filling in rotodex cards and Atherton still trawling for information on either Windhover or the Geneva Foundation. The latter two followed her to Slider’s office to hear her report.
‘Archers is a big place, guv. I don’t know why, but I was expecting some little High Street seed merchant, pet shop sort o’ yoke. But it’s got a forty-foot frontage, and they’ve a grand big yard at the back for lorries, and a warehouse beyond like a barn. Me heart sank when I saw it, thinking it would be all impersonal; but they knew who Robin Frith was all right. There was this nice owl me-dad sort o’ feller – grey hair and specs – in a brown overall who turned out to be Mr Archer himself. I told him Robin Frith had recommended me to come there, and his face kind o’ lit up as if I’d mentioned his favourite nephew. Then it turns out he’s known Frith all his life, used to see him compete in juvenile classes when he was at Merridee’s – that’s the Chipperfield stable. His daughter was about the same age – Mr Archer’s – and they used to ride in the same competitions. It was gas, the way he was telling me all this! And when Frith bought Hillbrow he took his whole feed and straw order to Archers, so you can see why they like him.’
‘What reason did you give for asking about Frith?’ Slider wanted to know.
‘I said I was buying a horse and wanted to get an idea of feed and bedding costs, and that Frith had said Archers would treat me fair,’ Connolly answered. ‘But the way it was, I didn’t need an excuse. Mr Archer was only too happy to chat. He had me ear bent the moment I said the name Frith.’
It was Connolly herself, Slider thought. It couldn’t be coincidence that she kept falling in with people ready to tell her their entire life story without provocation. She was a real asset to the Department.
‘So anyway,’ Connolly went on, ‘I said I’d spoken to Frith on Sunday and that he’d said he was coming in to Archers on Monday and would tell them to expect me. But Mr Archer says Frith didn’t come in on Monday at all. So I say, maybe I got the day wrong. And he says Robin Frith hasn’t been to the shop in months. There’s no need, they know what he wants and he just rings an order through. I ask if he’s quite sure he didn’t come in, maybe someone else spoke to him, so he asks around and everyone agrees, Frith didn’t come in on Monday, and it would be a bit of an event if he did show up in person so they’d be sure to notice. Then the owl feller looks a bit worried and asks why I’m asking, and I shrug it off and say I must have misunderstood, but anyway I’ll definitely be coming to Archers for me feed, and that cheers him up and he forgets all about it.
‘So then when I get outside I ring your woman Andy to check with her that it was definitely Archers Frith said he was going to, because I’m there now, looking into feed for the horse I’m going to buy, and I want to be sure it’s the right place. So she says yes, it was definitely Archers, and he definitely said he’d be late in on Monday on account of going there first, straight from home. She knows it was Archers because he said Fred Archer had got some new kind of horse nuts in that he wanted to show him, that were going to be better and cheaper than his usual. And anyway, she says, that’s the only merchant he uses, and he goes in there every six or eight weeks to discuss things with Archer himself.’
She beamed around at them.
‘Beautiful,’ said Atherton.
‘It was grand,’ she agreed. ‘It has your man’s alibi destroyed. Did he think no one would check up, the eejit?’
‘Criminals are idiots,’ Atherton asserted. ‘This calls for a drink.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Time to pack up, anyway. Who’s for a pint?’
‘I’m your man,’ Connolly said. ‘Me mouth’s as dry as a nun’s growler.’
‘I don’t even want to think what that means,’ Atherton said. ‘Colin? Guv?’
‘I’ve still got some stuff to finish,’ Hollis said.
Slider shook his head. ‘Go with my blessing, children. I’ve got thinking to do.’
Thinking, among other things, that while Frith’s alibi had turned out to be laughably inadequate, a man didn’t need an alibi at all if he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Amanda had been less than honest with Slider, and now Frith had shown he was hiding something. They had become more interesting to him, not less – proving the truth of the old saying, that honesty was the best policy.
SEVEN
Fingers in Pies
Slider was packing up to go home when Freddie Cameron rang again. ‘Are you still there?’
‘Apparently,’ Slider said gravely. ‘Was that all you rang to find out?’
‘Don’t get snippy with me, my lad, or I shan’t tell you what just occurred to me.’