On Eden Street by Peter Grainger

Author:Peter Grainger [Grainger, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-02-02T05:00:00+00:00

Ray was the antithesis of your fat cabbie. He was tall and gaunt, with the hollow, haunted eyes of a man who hasn’t slept well in ten years. They spoke to him in the drivers’ rest-room, which had vending machines and the plastic furniture of a factory canteen – the two detectives felt almost at home.

The driver’s first reaction hadn’t been promising.

‘Five months ago? You must be ‘avin a laugh, mate! I do a hundred pick-ups a week!’

Waters said, ‘We appreciate that. Anything you can remember would be helpful. It was a Tuesday morning. The call went into the office here at 09.21, and the job shows as complete on your manager’s database at 10.05.’

‘All right… Not a pre-booked, then. But I work all the hours God sends, and then I nick a few off him as well. The bus station ain’t exactly an unusual drop-off, neither. Sorry.’

Waters had signalled and Murray took out the photograph of Michael Wortley.

‘No. Don’t get many soldiers, so I might ‘ave remembered him.’

Murray said, ‘He won’t have been in uniform. What about the face?’

The driver reached out and took the picture. He stared at it for what seemed like a long time. These are the little, tense moments when you pray for a break, for a light to come on somewhere, anywhere, in the darkness. Sometimes all you can do is wait and hope.

Then Ray said slowly, ‘I ’ad to pull up over the kerb, onto the pavement – it’s a busy corner. I got out and opened the boot, told ’im to put his bag in but he said no. He put it in the back seat. Never said another word. Gave me fifteen quid for an eleven-quid job and didn’t wait for no change.’

Murray said, ‘Just one bag? What sort?’

‘Christ, mate! You don’t want a lot, do you?’ at which Murray smiled and said he’d already been a great help to the investigation but…

‘Weren’t a suitcase, I know that. Some sort of a holdall, I reckon. More like what a soldier would ’ave, I s’pose. What’s ’e done then, this bloke? Is ’e a wrong ’un?’

Waters had answered, nothing as far as they knew, apart from disappearing. They thanked Ray and Mr Cross, leaving things tidy because you never know when you’ll need to return and ask another question. When they got back to the car, Murray said, ‘Bus station?’ and Waters nodded.

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