The Ride by John Wainwright

Author:John Wainwright [Wainwright, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

SIX

Something about “They also serve”. One more thing the writers of flash crime novels rarely touch upon. The wives and their worry.

Helen Flensing said, “When he came—the second time he came—he was too concerned about the delay. The interruption. The accident—I mean, the fact that there’d been an accident—was secondary.”

“Look, my pet.” Alva was still there. She didn’t mind; it was more than a duty but, no denying the fact, somebody with an iron lung wrapped around them had cause for spats of self-pity, and Helen Flensing couldn’t quite fight this one off. “Ralph came and told you. As I understand things, my old man had asked somebody at the scene of the snarl-up to make contact. Nothing specific. Just to warn of the delay. Then when they reached a pub, David phoned in more details, Ralph telephoned me and I trotted along to XtWyou. You’re in the picture, my love. Nobody’s holding anything back.”

Alva switched on the light against the thickening darkness, then flipped the curtains across the window.

“Like a cell, isn’t it?” Helen moved her head from side to side.

“What?”

“This place. About the right size. White, too. Cells are often white, but the prisoner can move around. Walk about. Look out of the…”

“You’d prefer a sink, would you?” Alva’s tone carried no hint of sympathy. “A sink. Four or five snotty-nosed kids, yelling and bawling around the house all day. Nappies to wash. Bottoms to wipe. All the washing up—all the cleaning—all the muck and mess of kids’ diseases. Not white, mark you. Black would be nearer the mark. And a hubby fed up to the back teeth with your complaining. Beds to make. Meals to prepare. All the dreary…”

“Shut up!” Helen’s lip began to tremble. “You have a choice. You can do it. If you don’t feel like…”

“I still have to do it, girl. I’ve the same choice as you, no choice at all.” There was a pause, then, “This is one of your days, my love. Fine. A woman’s prerogative. Just get it all out of your system, see? Throw it at me. I’ll understand. I’ll fight back. Give you somebody to argue with. Just don’t—y’know—leave it for the menfolk. They don’t understand. You’ll hurt them. You’ll hurt Ralph, and he won’t fight back.”

“You’re fond of Ralph.” There was just the hint of accusation in the words.

“Fond of Ralph. Fond of you. Fond of a handful of people.”

“Maybe a little too fond.”

“My lovely.” Alva’s eyes flashed. “You make that suggestion once more and, upright or horizontal, you’ll feel the weight of my hand.”

Hoyle eased the Cortina onto the hard shoulder of the motorway, and braked to a halt. It was a small but necessary illegality. The questioning of Wardman had reached a point beyond which it was dangerous to allow Belamy to go. The detective sergeant had done his job. The softening up process was complete. The big stick had to be exchanged for the scalpel.

Hoyle opened the door gingerly; traffic coming up on the slow lane of the motorway roared past with not much more than a yard to spare.

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