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Authors: Alan Hunter
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either Kincaid had a friend or Fleece had an enemy, because someone told Kincaid where to look for his wife. Then it was Everest all over again with, this time, Kincaid as the survivor. Man, it’s justice when you look at it. It’s almost a shame for us to step in.’
Gently said unkindly: ‘You’ve forgotten the cigarette-case .’
‘Oh, but I haven’t.’ Evans faced him in triumph. ‘You worried me about that, so I took special note of it. And I can tell you who dropped it. It was Fleece himself.’
Gently nodded twice, reluctantly. ‘Yes, man. That’s brilliant .’
‘Isn’t it obvious when you think of it? Who else was so likely to have had the case?’
‘It’s obviousness is a little contingent. It depends on the identity of Mrs Fleece.’
‘But either way, man, it’s the answer. It answers the objection about the case.’
Evans sat nursing his triumph as they passed through Chelsea, where the teatime traffic began to build up around them. Then he said:
‘I wouldn’t bank too much on any theory about Kincaid, but I’m telling you now that I have a certain small confidence. He’s going to recognize that photograph ; then we’ll confront her with him. And the rest can go hang. We’ll have our case sewn up.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know the identity of Mrs Fleece’s latest?’
Evans chuckled. ‘I would, too. I’m afraid he’s a dirty dog, that one.’
At Bow Street, which was smelling even sootier and damper, Kincaid was fetched from his cell and given a chair. He looked unhappy, but he brightened when his eye fell on Gently; then his expression changed again, to one of pettish irritation. He said:
‘I’ve been talking to my lawyer, and he won’t do what I tell him.’
Gently shrugged. ‘They won’t always. What did you want him to do?’
‘I told you that. I asked him to search for evidence to establish my identity, but he refused point-blank to do it until after my trial was over. I shall change him, of course. I don’t put up with that sort of thing.’
Evans murmured: ‘You may find lawyers a little difficult, man.’
Gently produced the critical photograph, but he held it with its back towards Kincaid. The latter immediately fixed his eyes on it, regarding it with a tremulous sort of fascination. Gently waited. Kincaid’s emotion grew with each added moment; till finally, unable to bear it longer, he gave a little sob and reached out his hand.
‘Is that my w-wife you’ve got there?’
‘How would you recognize her, Kincaid?’
‘I’d know – I would. Oh please let me see her!’
‘She had grey eyes, hadn’t she?’
Kincaid’s own eyes opened wider.
‘She used to dye her hair, didn’t she? Her complexion was pale and clear?’
Kincaid’s hand flew to his mouth. His breath camein a ragged gasp. He stared idiot-like at Gently, his teeth were cutting into his fingers.
‘Isn’t that how you’d know her?’
Kincaid gave a strangled cry. ‘Yes … yes!’ He went on repeating it in a hysterical gabble.
Gently reversed the photograph and thrust it into Kincaid’s hand. The man seized it, bent over it, twisting himself away from Gently. Then the tension seemed to snap in him and he began to laugh uncontrollably. He dropped the photograph on the floor, a smear of blood on it from his hand.
‘Is that your wife, Kincaid?’
He only laughed the more. Though they waited for half an hour, they could get nothing sensible out of him.
CHAPTER FIVE
A LAS FOR EVANS’S confidence! It was to have very little to bolster it, and by the time they called it a day all his original gloom had returned. No sudden solution was round the corner, no neat tying of the ends, rather the indications were that they were getting further away from the mark.
Dutt was waiting in Gently’s office when they returned to the Yard. They found him immersed in an evening paper in which Kincaid still rated the headlines. Gently took it from him. The headlines ran:
FRESH MOVES IN
Gently said unkindly: ‘You’ve forgotten the cigarette-case .’
‘Oh, but I haven’t.’ Evans faced him in triumph. ‘You worried me about that, so I took special note of it. And I can tell you who dropped it. It was Fleece himself.’
Gently nodded twice, reluctantly. ‘Yes, man. That’s brilliant .’
‘Isn’t it obvious when you think of it? Who else was so likely to have had the case?’
‘It’s obviousness is a little contingent. It depends on the identity of Mrs Fleece.’
‘But either way, man, it’s the answer. It answers the objection about the case.’
Evans sat nursing his triumph as they passed through Chelsea, where the teatime traffic began to build up around them. Then he said:
‘I wouldn’t bank too much on any theory about Kincaid, but I’m telling you now that I have a certain small confidence. He’s going to recognize that photograph ; then we’ll confront her with him. And the rest can go hang. We’ll have our case sewn up.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know the identity of Mrs Fleece’s latest?’
Evans chuckled. ‘I would, too. I’m afraid he’s a dirty dog, that one.’
At Bow Street, which was smelling even sootier and damper, Kincaid was fetched from his cell and given a chair. He looked unhappy, but he brightened when his eye fell on Gently; then his expression changed again, to one of pettish irritation. He said:
‘I’ve been talking to my lawyer, and he won’t do what I tell him.’
Gently shrugged. ‘They won’t always. What did you want him to do?’
‘I told you that. I asked him to search for evidence to establish my identity, but he refused point-blank to do it until after my trial was over. I shall change him, of course. I don’t put up with that sort of thing.’
Evans murmured: ‘You may find lawyers a little difficult, man.’
Gently produced the critical photograph, but he held it with its back towards Kincaid. The latter immediately fixed his eyes on it, regarding it with a tremulous sort of fascination. Gently waited. Kincaid’s emotion grew with each added moment; till finally, unable to bear it longer, he gave a little sob and reached out his hand.
‘Is that my w-wife you’ve got there?’
‘How would you recognize her, Kincaid?’
‘I’d know – I would. Oh please let me see her!’
‘She had grey eyes, hadn’t she?’
Kincaid’s own eyes opened wider.
‘She used to dye her hair, didn’t she? Her complexion was pale and clear?’
Kincaid’s hand flew to his mouth. His breath camein a ragged gasp. He stared idiot-like at Gently, his teeth were cutting into his fingers.
‘Isn’t that how you’d know her?’
Kincaid gave a strangled cry. ‘Yes … yes!’ He went on repeating it in a hysterical gabble.
Gently reversed the photograph and thrust it into Kincaid’s hand. The man seized it, bent over it, twisting himself away from Gently. Then the tension seemed to snap in him and he began to laugh uncontrollably. He dropped the photograph on the floor, a smear of blood on it from his hand.
‘Is that your wife, Kincaid?’
He only laughed the more. Though they waited for half an hour, they could get nothing sensible out of him.
CHAPTER FIVE
A LAS FOR EVANS’S confidence! It was to have very little to bolster it, and by the time they called it a day all his original gloom had returned. No sudden solution was round the corner, no neat tying of the ends, rather the indications were that they were getting further away from the mark.
Dutt was waiting in Gently’s office when they returned to the Yard. They found him immersed in an evening paper in which Kincaid still rated the headlines. Gently took it from him. The headlines ran:
FRESH MOVES IN
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