1953 - The Things Men Do (17 page)

For a moment I thought I was going to be sick.

"They couldn't have! He wasn't there! What are you trying to do to me?"

"He got back in time to go with the van. He's dead, Harry."

I moved slowly and stiffly around the chair and sat down.

"How do you know? I don't believe it! There's a mistake, Ann. He can't be dead!"

"The police told me."

My heart seemed to stop and then race madly.

"The police? Ann! The police haven't been here, have they?"

"Oh yes," she said in a flat, tired voice. "They came just after you left. They wanted to see you. They wanted to ask you about Bill."

"But Bill couldn't have got back in time! I saw him on to the train. There's been a mistake . . ."

"Oh, Harry! Do you think I'd say it was Bill unless it was Bill? He's dead! They killed him!"

I stared at her.

The room suddenly spun before my eyes, went dark and I had a horrible feeling I was going to faint I got hold of myself, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes.

"Did you have anything to do with this robbery, Harry? You've got to tell me! I must know!"

Bill dead! If I had only told him what I had suspected he would be alive now. Ann was still speaking, but I didn't hear what she was saying. There was a dead feeling inside my head. They had killed Bill! In spite of all my precautions, all my planning, Bill was dead.

"Harry!"

I started, shook my head and stood up.

"Leave me alone, Ann. I've got to think. Don't talk to me for a moment."

"But I've got to talk to you!" she cried. "Don't you understand the police have been here? They've been asking questions. I trusted you, Harry. I told them the truth, believing you were telling me the truth. Now, I'm not sure any more. Don't you understand? I may have said something to give you away. You've got to listen!"

"What have you told them?" I went up to her and caught hold of her arms, peering into her white face. "What have you told them?"

"They wanted to know about Bill; about the telephone call from the doctor. They asked if you had ever been to the sorting-office."

"What did you tell them?"

"I said you went over there last night to give Harris a cup of tea."

I let go of her and stepped back.

"Harry! Didn't you give him a cup of tea? You went over there—I saw you!"

"No, I didn't give him the tea. I didn't see him."

"But you said you did give it to him!"

"Did I? I don't remember what I said. I didn't give him any tea. I looked for him, but I didn't see him so I came back."

I wasn't thinking of what I was saying. All I could think of was that Bill was dead, and it was my fault that he had died. If I had warned him at the beginning and hadn't thought only of myself, he would be alive at this moment "Harry! You're lying to me!" Ann tried, beating her fists together. "Oh, Harry, for God's sake, tell me the truth. At least tell me the truth. You know I love you: you know I will do anything for you; but I must know the truth. What were you doing over there last night?"

The first shock was passing. I felt a cold, murderous rage against Dix growing inside me. If it was the last thing I did I was going to find and kill him.

"Harry!"

I looked at her, and she stepped back, catching her breath.

"Don't look like that! What is it? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking it's time, Ann, I did tell you the truth," I said quietly, "I went over to the sorting-office last night to put the alarm bell out of action: the alarm bell on Bill's van."

She closed, her eyes. Her hands went to her breasts, and she stood for a long moment, motionless. Then she opened her eyes and looked at me.

"Why did you do it?"

"Because I hadn't the guts to refuse to do it, Ann. That's why I did it."

"Dix and the others are responsible for the robbery then?"

"Yes."

"And that girl: she is one of them?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Harry, how could you?"

"I broke my promise to you, Ann. I went to see her when you were away at your mother's. Dix blackmailed me. If I didn't put the alarm bell out at he was going to show you proof that I had been with that girl: and it wasn't pretty proof. I hadn't the guts to face you, so I did it."

She sat down suddenly, her fists clenched tightly in her lap.

"I thought I had got Bill out of the way. I wouldn't have gone through with it if I had any idea that Bill might run into that mob."

"His mother's not ill then?"

"No. I told him that lie to get him out of London. I still can't think how he could have got back. I saw him on the train." '

"He did get back, Harry."

"Ann, I don't expect you to forgive me, but I want you to know I'm sorry. She didn't mean anything to me: it was a physical something I hadn't the guts to control."

She got up then and moved over to the window and rested her forehead on the window pane.

"What are you going to do, Harry?"

"I'm going to find Dix. You'd better go to your mother, Ann."

She turned quickly and stared at me.

"Why do you want to find Dix? Let the police find him! You've got to think of yourself now, Harry. Don't you understand, you might get into serious trouble?"

"You mean I could go to prison? All right, then I'll go to prison, but I'm finding Dix first."

Something attracted her attention in the street and she turned quickly to look out of the window.

"They're coming now, Harry."

I joined her at the window with two quick strides. I was in time to see two plain clothes officers enter the garage.

"It's all right, Ann," I said, wanting to put my arm round her, but not doing so. "Don't be frightened. I'll go down and talk to them."

I went across the room, opened the door and without looking back, went down the stairs.

The two detectives were sanding just outside my office as I pushed open the door at the foot of the stairs.

"Mr. Collins?"

"That's right."

"I'm Detective Sergeant Hollis, and this is Detective Constable Davies. I am making inquiries concerning a mail van robbery, and believe you may be able to help us. I understand you are a friend of William Yates, the postal guard who was murdered in the early hours of this morning."

I looked at the two men: both dark, both massive, both wearing nondescript dark suits. The Detective Sergeant was the younger of the two. His square-shaped face was expressionless, his eyes alert but impersonal.

"That's right."

"Mr. Collins, I would be glad if you would come to the station with me. The Chief Superintendent is anxious talk to you."

I felt a sudden sinking feeling inside me.

"I can't very well leave my business. Couldn't he come here?"

"Haven't you anyone to look after your business for an hour or so?"

I hesitated. I didn't want to go with them, but I knew they could force me if they wanted to, and there was no point in getting on the wrong side of them.

"I suppose my wife could manage."

"I have a car outside. I'll see you are driven back. We won't keep you long."

"Well, all right. I'll just tell my wife." I looked at them. "Do you want to come up with me?"

The Detective Sergeant allowed himself an impersonal smile.

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Collins."

I went up the stairs, a little shaky at the knees. At least they weren't arresting me. They wouldn't have let me out of their sight if they suspected I had something to do with the robbery.

Ann was waiting on the landing.

"They want me to go to the station," I said, pitched my voice so the two detectives could hear what I saying. "I won't be more than an hour."

She looked at me, and I was shocked to see the terror in her eyes. I shook my head at her, and managed to force a smile.

"They're going to drive me back."

She took hold of my hand and pulled me into the dining-room and shut the door.

"Do they suspect anything?" she whispered.

"I don't think so. They would have come up if they did. Don't worry, Ann, I'll be back soon."

"Harry, we must stay together. I'm not going to leave you. Nothing matters now, darling, except what lies ahead. Nothing matters. I mean that."

I looked at her, not sure if I had heard right.

"I've done you a great wrong, Ann."

"Don't talk about it. I'm frightened, Harry. Be careful what you say. I'll pray for you."

I pulled her to me and kissed her. Her lips felt as cold as ice.

"It'll be all right. There's no one in the world but you, Ann. I love you and will always love you."

She clung to me.

"It'll be all right." I said, kissed her again, then pushed her gently away. "I'll be back."

I went quickly downstairs.

"All ready, sergeant."

We climbed into the police car parked outside the garage. It took us only a few minutes to reach the police station.

"This way, Mr. Collins," Hollis said, getting out of the car.

He hurried me into the big grey stone building, up a flight of stone stairs, along a passage to a door on which was printed a notice which read: Chief Superintendent J. V. Rawson. He rapped on the door and pushed it open.

"Mr. Collins, sir."

I walked into a small office. Facing me was a big desk, covered with files and papers. A Windsor chair stood by the side of the desk. Another chair stood by the window. One side of the room was taken up by filing cabinets.

Behind the desk sat a broad-shouldered man, going bald, who might have been any age between fifty and sixty. He had the most piercing blue eyes I had ever seen.

He stood up, leaned across the desk and offered his hand, and his grey complexioned face lit up with a friendly smile.

"Thanks for coming, Mr. Collins. I'm sorry to have taken you away from your business, but this is a pretty serious affair, and I'm relying on you to help us."

"I'll do what I can."

"Sit down." He waved me to the Windsor chair, then glanced at Hollis. "Think it's too early for a cup of tea, sergeant?"

"I'll see what I can do, sir."

When Hollis left the office, Rawson took out his cigarette case and offered it. I took a cigarette.

"I seem to be out of matches," he said, fumbling in his pockets.

"I have one."

I lit his cigarette and then mine and dropped the match into the ash tray.

"You couldn't spare that box, could you, Mr. Collins? I shan't get out until after lunch, and I'm a heavy smoker."

"That's all right," I said, and pushed the box across the desk.

"I'm much obliged. Thank you." He put the box in his pocket and grinned at me. "They call me Scrounger Rawson here. Looks as if I'm living up to my reputation."

He had the knack of making me feel at ease, and I relaxed back in my chair.

"No fun being without a light."

"That's a fact. Well, now, Mr. Collins, I understand Bill Yates was a friend of yours?"

"He was my best friend: we served together during the war. I've only just heard of his death. What happened?"

Hollis came in at this moment with two cups of tea. He put them on the desk and went out again.

"What happened, Mr. Collins?" Rawson said, pushing one of the cups towards me. "I'll tell you. The mail van was ambushed in Wood Lane. A car overtook it and pulled in front of it. Three men jumped out, carrying revolvers and wearing masks. They ordered the driver, Mackson, who helps load and unload the van, and Yates to get out. Yates touched off the alarm bell, but it failed to operate. The driver and Mackson got out of the van; then Yates got out. One of the bandits covered them while another moved the car out of the way. The third man got into the mail van." Rawson paused to sip his tea, frowned, went on. "It was while the car was being moved that Yates attacked the gunman. It was a damned plucky thing to have done. The driver who told us the story said Yates moved so fast the gunman seemed bewildered. Yates got a judo hold on him and threw him across the street. He landed on a gravel bin and seemed badly hurt.

"The man in the mail van jumped out and went for Yates, but Yates knocked him down. While this was going on Madison ran down a side street, shouting for help. The driver, an elderly man, remained where he was, his hands still raised.

"If he had gone to Yates's help or if Mackson hadn't run away, I believe the ambush would have failed. Two of the bandits were out of action: one permanently, the other knocked silly for the moment. Although the remaining man was armed he might have lost his nerve if the three of them had rushed him. Unfortunately, Yates had to tackle him alone.

"Yates had been provided with a new anti-bandit weapon. It's a pistol firing a special cartridge. The contents of the cartridge is a chemical that leaves a bright blue stain which can't be removed.

"Yates was determined to mark the bandit. He ran across the road. The bandit pointed a revolver at him and shouted to him to stop, but Yates kept on. He discharged the contents of the cartridge in the bandit's face as the bandit shot him through the head. He was killed instantly, but the driver of the van says the bandit's head and shoulders were covered with the blue stain.

"The driver didn't wait to see what happened next. He bolted. Well, that's how your friend died, Mr. Collins. He was a very brave man. I shouldn't be surprised if they don't give him the George Medal."

"That won't do him any good, will it?" I said, looking down at my clenched fists. "Did you get a description of the man who killed him?"

"He was a big fellow, wearing a black suit and a black slouch hat. He won't be difficult to find now, Mr. Collins. Thanks to Yates, we should pick him up pretty quickly."

Dix!

"We have reason to believe," Rawson went on, "that this gang must have spent some time watching the movements of the vans from the sorting-office. Did you happen to notice anyone hanging about in Eagle Street during the past few days who might have been a member of the gang, Mr. Collins?"

I looked up.

"No, I can't say I did."

"Or did you happen to notice a man answering the killer's description. He was exceptionally big and massive."