thousand echoes of its brief, perfect poignancy.
‘Like that,’ Deeming said, ‘that was Grieg touching the real. You wanted it back, but he wouldn’t give it to you. He kept it timeless, along the borders.’
‘And Lister,’ said Gently, ‘was along the borders when he rode over the verge?’
‘Crazy,’ said Deeming. ‘You’re getting it, man. Like I didn’t think I could put it over.’
Gently put down his glass, watched it, let the Grieg clamour its finale. The gear clicked, raised the pick-up, dropped it on its stud and killed the motor.
‘And Betty Turner,’ he said. ‘Lister would ignore her, of course.’
‘He’d forget her,’ Deeming said. ‘He wouldn’t remember she was with him.’
‘Too bad,’ Gently said.
‘Sure, too bad,’ said Deeming. ‘But that’s the way of it, screw. You’re kidding yourself if you think it wasn’t.’
‘I don’t think I’m kidded,’ Gently said.
‘A square self-kidded,’ said Deeming. ‘Man, we’ll put this bottle out of its misery, then I’ll make with something really cool.’
‘Not for me,’ Gently said.
‘Come off it, screw,’ said Deeming, grinning.
CHAPTER FIVE
S ETTERS WAS BACK at the hotel at breakfast-time carrying a worn, empty-gutted briefcase, and he was shown into the dining-room where Gently was still eating breakfast.
‘We traced the serviette,’ he said, unbuckling the briefcase on his knee. ‘I had Ralphs type his report so you could have it first thing. He ran the serviette down in the Kummin Kafe, in the neighbourhood centre in Dane’s Green. That’s half a mile from Ford Road but only a step from Spalding and Skinner’s. The Turner girl worked there. We think he met her in the Kummin Kafe.’
Gently grunted, not overpleased to be disturbed so early. But Setters was ferreting in the briefcase and eventually handed across the report.
‘The man at the café, name of Greenstone, remembered Lister from the published photograph. Said he was regular there at the tea-break and used to meet a girl there.’
‘Did he remember the girl?’ Gently asked.
‘Not to be positive,’ Setters said. ‘They get a lot ofthem in there from the offices, there’s more girls than men work there. But Ralphs got some other stuff from him, as you’ll see in the report. It looks as though the sticks were passed to the girl and then she passed them on to Lister.’
Gently hung the sheet over his teapot, went on lading some toast with marmalade. He hadn’t slept any too well, he’d caught a headache from Deeming’s Sauternes. Then, arriving downstairs, he’d seen with surprise that his interview with Deeming had ‘made’ a morning paper. More, it was Deeming himself who had reported it and whose name was given in the byline.
SUPT. GENTLY’S NIGHT OUT WITH THE JEEBIES
For a little review contributor, Deeming had a nice journalistic touch. The story that followed was slightly mocking, showed Gently as a bumbling father-figure: not explicitly, of course, but by a number of subtle, overt touches. The piece had also been made a vehicle to give some of Deeming’s ideas an airing. He must have wasted no time on the effort, but gone at his typewriter the moment Gently left.
‘I saw the write-up,’ Setters said, his glance moving to Gently’s paper. ‘I should have warned you about Dicky Deeming; he’s never slow to place a story.’
‘I’m used to it,’ Gently grunted.
‘But I should have warned you,’ Setters said. ‘The way he writes it he was stringing you along, he asked you up to clinch his story.’
‘What else did Ralphs get?’ Gently asked.
‘That was most of it,’ Setters said. ‘The rest is down there in the report. I’d say that the girl didn’t want to pass the sticks.’
Gently ate and read. The report was lengthy and detailed. Ralphs had started near the Ford Road site and worked conscientiously back into the town. He came to the Kummin Kafe, where the serviette was matched: there’d been a
‘Like that,’ Deeming said, ‘that was Grieg touching the real. You wanted it back, but he wouldn’t give it to you. He kept it timeless, along the borders.’
‘And Lister,’ said Gently, ‘was along the borders when he rode over the verge?’
‘Crazy,’ said Deeming. ‘You’re getting it, man. Like I didn’t think I could put it over.’
Gently put down his glass, watched it, let the Grieg clamour its finale. The gear clicked, raised the pick-up, dropped it on its stud and killed the motor.
‘And Betty Turner,’ he said. ‘Lister would ignore her, of course.’
‘He’d forget her,’ Deeming said. ‘He wouldn’t remember she was with him.’
‘Too bad,’ Gently said.
‘Sure, too bad,’ said Deeming. ‘But that’s the way of it, screw. You’re kidding yourself if you think it wasn’t.’
‘I don’t think I’m kidded,’ Gently said.
‘A square self-kidded,’ said Deeming. ‘Man, we’ll put this bottle out of its misery, then I’ll make with something really cool.’
‘Not for me,’ Gently said.
‘Come off it, screw,’ said Deeming, grinning.
CHAPTER FIVE
S ETTERS WAS BACK at the hotel at breakfast-time carrying a worn, empty-gutted briefcase, and he was shown into the dining-room where Gently was still eating breakfast.
‘We traced the serviette,’ he said, unbuckling the briefcase on his knee. ‘I had Ralphs type his report so you could have it first thing. He ran the serviette down in the Kummin Kafe, in the neighbourhood centre in Dane’s Green. That’s half a mile from Ford Road but only a step from Spalding and Skinner’s. The Turner girl worked there. We think he met her in the Kummin Kafe.’
Gently grunted, not overpleased to be disturbed so early. But Setters was ferreting in the briefcase and eventually handed across the report.
‘The man at the café, name of Greenstone, remembered Lister from the published photograph. Said he was regular there at the tea-break and used to meet a girl there.’
‘Did he remember the girl?’ Gently asked.
‘Not to be positive,’ Setters said. ‘They get a lot ofthem in there from the offices, there’s more girls than men work there. But Ralphs got some other stuff from him, as you’ll see in the report. It looks as though the sticks were passed to the girl and then she passed them on to Lister.’
Gently hung the sheet over his teapot, went on lading some toast with marmalade. He hadn’t slept any too well, he’d caught a headache from Deeming’s Sauternes. Then, arriving downstairs, he’d seen with surprise that his interview with Deeming had ‘made’ a morning paper. More, it was Deeming himself who had reported it and whose name was given in the byline.
SUPT. GENTLY’S NIGHT OUT WITH THE JEEBIES
For a little review contributor, Deeming had a nice journalistic touch. The story that followed was slightly mocking, showed Gently as a bumbling father-figure: not explicitly, of course, but by a number of subtle, overt touches. The piece had also been made a vehicle to give some of Deeming’s ideas an airing. He must have wasted no time on the effort, but gone at his typewriter the moment Gently left.
‘I saw the write-up,’ Setters said, his glance moving to Gently’s paper. ‘I should have warned you about Dicky Deeming; he’s never slow to place a story.’
‘I’m used to it,’ Gently grunted.
‘But I should have warned you,’ Setters said. ‘The way he writes it he was stringing you along, he asked you up to clinch his story.’
‘What else did Ralphs get?’ Gently asked.
‘That was most of it,’ Setters said. ‘The rest is down there in the report. I’d say that the girl didn’t want to pass the sticks.’
Gently ate and read. The report was lengthy and detailed. Ralphs had started near the Ford Road site and worked conscientiously back into the town. He came to the Kummin Kafe, where the serviette was matched: there’d been a
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