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Authors: J. M. Gregson
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with an effort, facing for the first time the probable reason for his death.
‘It’s too early to say. But we think it might have been, yes.’
She shook her head sadly. ‘I don’t know anyone from that world. He kept it quite separate from his joinery work. He didn’t even think I knew about it. Perhaps if I’d pressed him, he’d have given it up. But the money was useful, you see, until he got on his feet.’
‘Of course it was. And he was bringing bad men to justice, Amy. Never forget that.’ It was suddenly important to him that this decent woman should not blame herself for her husband’s death.
‘Men like the ones who have done this to him?’
‘Yes. Men like that. Violent men, not petty thieves.’
She nodded, apparently satisfied on that score at least.
He checked that her daughter was on the way over, then left her washing the cups and saucers. But she came and stood on the doorstep as he climbed into the car. She looked like a woman seeing off a departing visitor conventionally. Wanting to say something by way of farewell, he could think only of, ‘We’ll get the men who did this to Charlie, Amy.’ He immediately regretted it, for he knew their chances could not be high, and he hated false comforts.
But she called back, ‘Make sure you do. And you’d better lock them away from me, Bert Hook!’
It was the first time he knew that she was aware of his name.
8
The routine of the enquiry produced very little on that first day. Several people had seen Pegg at the Star and Garter. One or two had seen him drinking with a man, perhaps for half an hour. No one could give a description of this companion. Or no one was willing to.
Lambert took Hook’s report of his meeting with Amy Pegg and put it glumly together with the negative findings from the house-to-house and Scene-of-Crime teams. DI Rushton was running a computer search for similar killings when Lambert called him into the newly established incident room.
Charlie Pegg was getting the same treatment as any other murder victim. Lambert had set the centre up immediately as a visual reminder to his CID section that all deaths have to be investigated impartially, whatever the background of the victim, whatever the possibilities of success. Charlie Pegg would have been surprised and immensely flattered to know that his death had been accorded this measure of importance.
In truth, there was little in the room yet. The clothes which would eventually be carefully bagged to appear as exhibits in court were still with Forensic. The files of interview evidence which would in due course fatten to an alarming volume, even in a case like this, had scarcely been opened. Some enlarged photographs of the corpse and the place where it had been found had been pinned on a sheet of plasterboard, but there was little else to suggest that this was a murder room.
Rushton gave them a résumé of the largely negative findings he had collated so far. He said, ‘The only interesting thing is that the landlord thought he saw Pegg making a phone call last night. It would be useful to know whom he was trying to contact.’
Lambert smiled grimly. Not all that interesting, I’m afraid, Chris. It was me. He got through and we arranged a meeting — that should have been in our usual place tonight.’
‘Any idea what he wanted to talk about?’
The superintendent shook his head ruefully. ‘He had information about someone. Some job that was coming up, I expect. He never rang me without it. But we didn’t even exchange our own names on the phone, let alone any facts. He was too well versed in his trade for that.’
But his knowledge didn’t save him, they all thought.
Hook said, ‘Haven’t you any idea, sir, from previous contacts?’ There was almost a superstition about the exchange: even now, when the man was dead, neither inspector nor sergeant mentioned the place where the snout would have met Lambert, nor speculated about the men whom he might
‘It’s too early to say. But we think it might have been, yes.’
She shook her head sadly. ‘I don’t know anyone from that world. He kept it quite separate from his joinery work. He didn’t even think I knew about it. Perhaps if I’d pressed him, he’d have given it up. But the money was useful, you see, until he got on his feet.’
‘Of course it was. And he was bringing bad men to justice, Amy. Never forget that.’ It was suddenly important to him that this decent woman should not blame herself for her husband’s death.
‘Men like the ones who have done this to him?’
‘Yes. Men like that. Violent men, not petty thieves.’
She nodded, apparently satisfied on that score at least.
He checked that her daughter was on the way over, then left her washing the cups and saucers. But she came and stood on the doorstep as he climbed into the car. She looked like a woman seeing off a departing visitor conventionally. Wanting to say something by way of farewell, he could think only of, ‘We’ll get the men who did this to Charlie, Amy.’ He immediately regretted it, for he knew their chances could not be high, and he hated false comforts.
But she called back, ‘Make sure you do. And you’d better lock them away from me, Bert Hook!’
It was the first time he knew that she was aware of his name.
8
The routine of the enquiry produced very little on that first day. Several people had seen Pegg at the Star and Garter. One or two had seen him drinking with a man, perhaps for half an hour. No one could give a description of this companion. Or no one was willing to.
Lambert took Hook’s report of his meeting with Amy Pegg and put it glumly together with the negative findings from the house-to-house and Scene-of-Crime teams. DI Rushton was running a computer search for similar killings when Lambert called him into the newly established incident room.
Charlie Pegg was getting the same treatment as any other murder victim. Lambert had set the centre up immediately as a visual reminder to his CID section that all deaths have to be investigated impartially, whatever the background of the victim, whatever the possibilities of success. Charlie Pegg would have been surprised and immensely flattered to know that his death had been accorded this measure of importance.
In truth, there was little in the room yet. The clothes which would eventually be carefully bagged to appear as exhibits in court were still with Forensic. The files of interview evidence which would in due course fatten to an alarming volume, even in a case like this, had scarcely been opened. Some enlarged photographs of the corpse and the place where it had been found had been pinned on a sheet of plasterboard, but there was little else to suggest that this was a murder room.
Rushton gave them a résumé of the largely negative findings he had collated so far. He said, ‘The only interesting thing is that the landlord thought he saw Pegg making a phone call last night. It would be useful to know whom he was trying to contact.’
Lambert smiled grimly. Not all that interesting, I’m afraid, Chris. It was me. He got through and we arranged a meeting — that should have been in our usual place tonight.’
‘Any idea what he wanted to talk about?’
The superintendent shook his head ruefully. ‘He had information about someone. Some job that was coming up, I expect. He never rang me without it. But we didn’t even exchange our own names on the phone, let alone any facts. He was too well versed in his trade for that.’
But his knowledge didn’t save him, they all thought.
Hook said, ‘Haven’t you any idea, sir, from previous contacts?’ There was almost a superstition about the exchange: even now, when the man was dead, neither inspector nor sergeant mentioned the place where the snout would have met Lambert, nor speculated about the men whom he might
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