Money in the Morgue by Ngaio Marsh & Stella Duffy

Author:Ngaio Marsh & Stella Duffy [Marsh, Ngaio & Duffy, Stella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008207120
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2018-01-31T21:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINETEEN

With Sanders, Brayling and Pawcett following, Alleyn walked ahead thinking about the nervous tension in the Transport Office, the manner in which each of the possible suspects had assumed a guilty aspect when he pushed open the door, and how much he disliked locking the door on them again.

Sanders muttered to his mates as they fell into line, ‘Here he comes, the Pommie prince, playing the big I-am.’

‘Shut up, Maurice,’ Pawcett whispered. ‘We’ve got to play this right or we’ll all be in the doghouse.’

‘Too right we do,’ agreed Brayling, ‘I want to get off this weekend, take my Ngaire over to stay with her people. I’m going to tell the truth and be done with it. We didn’t do nothing wrong.’

‘You didn’t, Cuth,’ Sanders said.

‘And neither did you or I,’ Pawcett whispered, his voice sharp, ‘All right?’

‘All right, calm down,’ Sanders agreed, ‘but let’s go easy on the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, eh, Cuth? You tell your bit if you reckon you need to, but keep me and Bob out of it.’

Alleyn turned to watch as the men reached the steps and slowly walked into the Records Office. He took in the Māori man’s sharp glance to Sanders, Pawcett’s dark look as he nervously chewed on his lower lip, Sanders’s own deep frown. Alleyn took a moment to wonder whose story was going to collapse first.

He was surprised that it was Private Pawcett who gave them up, after a gentle nudge when Alleyn wondered aloud whether he ought to invite Sergeant Bix into the interrogation.

‘Ah, it’s no good, Maurice,’ Pawcett said to Sanders, ‘we’re going to have to tell him, I can’t chance Bix running to the brass with this, I’m in enough bother as it is. Nothing serious,’ he added, assuring Alleyn, ‘It’s just that I’ve never been too good with the old “Yes, Sir, no, Sir” if you know what I mean.’

‘I’ve come across that in my time.’

‘I bet you have. Right, Inspector, well, the thing is—’

Pawcett looked at his comrades once more, Sanders shot him a filthy look but said nothing and Brayling nodded his go-ahead.

‘We’ve been running a racket, Sir,’ Pawcett said.

‘A racket?’

‘On the races, you know, running a book,’ Sanders added.

Alleyn bit back a smile and managed to nod seriously at the confession, ‘I see.’

‘None of the lads could get out to put on a bet, could they?’ Pawcett went on, ‘And we had a friend—I mean, Maurice here had a friend—at the pub,’ he faltered, wondering if mentioning Sukie Johnson’s name would get him even deeper in his pal’s bad books.

Alleyn saved him from worse, ‘You needn’t kick your mate, Private Sanders, I’m not investigating a nefarious gambling den. Not tonight at least. I don’t need to know the name of your contact at the pub, whoever he,’ he paused, clasping his long hands together, ‘or she, may be. What I do need to know is where all three of you were this afternoon and into the evening.

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