‘I’m not sure about that. If Fisher was the murderer I think he must have come back for it, after he’d got rid of Gretchen. He might have come back for it anyway, though I don’t think it’s likely. At all events there was too much of it to carry about his person. There is, incidentally, some indication that Fisher has come into money just recently.’
‘And that’s one of the seven deadly sins in criminal investigation.’ The super’s eyes glistened. ‘By God, Gently, you certainly get results. I’ll let this be a lesson to me.’
Gently shook his head. ‘It’s mostly one witness against another at the moment. We’ve got to have proof.’
‘We’ll get proof. I’ll get a warrant and take his flat apart, brick by brick, and if the money’s there we’ll find it. And I’ll make him talk, if I have to question him from now to Christmas.’
‘He won’t talk if he’s the murderer.’
‘Then if he doesn’t talk I’ll charge him with it.’
‘I shouldn’t be too hasty about that…’ began Gently, and broke off. Hansom came striding into the room, followed by Police Constable Letts. ‘Look at this!’ boomed Hansom, ‘look at this!’ And he waved a limp piece of paper under the super’s nose. The super stared at it. ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘What is it!’ ‘It’s another of the Huysmann notes — it’s just been turned in by the bank!’
The super grabbed it as though it were a rare visitant from another world. ‘Where did they get it?’ he exclaimed.
‘It was paid in this afternoon by “The Doll’s Hospital”.’
‘By the what?’
‘“The Doll’s Hospital”.’
The super goggled at Hansom. ‘And what the blazing blue hell is “The Doll’s Hospital”…?’
‘Excuse me, sir…’ Constable Letts slid round the mass that was Hansom. ‘“The Doll’s Hospital” is a toy-shop in St Benedict’s, sir.’
‘And what the devil has that got to do with the Huysmann case?’
Gently said: ‘What sort of toy-shop is it?’
‘It’s one of those that goes in for Meccano sets and that sort of thing, sir.’
‘Does it sell scale model aeroplanes?’
‘Yes, sir. It’s got a window full of them.’
‘Fisher!’ yipped Hansom, catching on with commendable suddenness. ‘He told us he built scale models in his spare time.’
The super shot a meaningful glance at Gently. ‘You wanted proof, by golly…!’ He turned to Hansom. ‘We’re pulling in Fisher right away. Wait here till I get warrants — I’m in on this party — and send a patrol car round to his flat.’
Ten minutes later the super’s Humber bumbled over the ruts of Paradise Alley and pulled up beside the patrol car. A police sergeant ran round and saluted. ‘There doesn’t seem to be anybody at home, sir,’ he said.
‘Is the door locked?’ snapped the super.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Smash it in, then.’
‘Very good, sir.’
The super, Gently and Hansom climbed out and watched the sergeant direct smashing operations. It was not the best of doors. It yielded easily to one constable-power. The super, eager to draw blood, went bounding up the narrow stairs, Hansom in close pursuit. Gently followed at a more sedate pace. ‘He’s not here!’ bawled Hansom, emerging from the bedroom. ‘Try the lounge,’ suggested Gently, ‘it’s a bit before his bedtime…’ He wandered into the kitchen after the super, who was making great play with a wall-cupboard full of junk. ‘Hell’s… bells!’ came from Hansom. ‘Chiefy — for God’s sake come and look at this lot!’ ‘What have you found, Hansom?’ barked the super. ‘Just come and look at it!’ The super bounced across the dingy landing, Gently following. Hansom stood back, tallow-faced.
Sprawled on the floor of the sitting-room, mouth open, eyes staring, was Fisher. His throat was cut down from the ear on the right side. A blood-stained razor, which Gently recognized, lay near his right hand and on the couch near him, neatly stacked, stood a fabulous pile of treasury notes.
Alan Hunter
Gently Does It
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
G ENTLY, HAVING SEEN enough, went out and sat in the Humber while the police medico made his examination. After him came the photographer, whose flash-bulbs could be seen popping through the unmasked window. Hansom and the super came out in conference with the medico. ‘… Naturally, it’s always possible,’ said the medico, ‘any self-inflicted wound may have been the result of an attack… we can only offer proof the other way round, viz., that a certain wound could not have been self-inflicted. But there is no suggestion of that here. I am perfectly satisfied that this is a bona fide case of suicide.’
‘I wasn’t querying the present case,’ grunted the super. ‘I could see that for myself with half an eye.’
Hansom said: ‘And Gently recognizes the razor… it’s the one he cut out the models with.’
They came up to the car and Gently got out. ‘You might well say that Fisher was getting worried,’ said the super to him, a trifle grimly.
‘He didn’t seem so terribly worried when I last saw him… just a bit on edge.’
The super shook his head. ‘You must put the fear of the Lord into people without realizing it. Well… I suppose it’s saved a deal of trouble and expense, though personally I should have got a lot of satisfaction out of putting him in dock. We can let young Huysmann go now.’
Hansom said: ‘I still can’t quite get this straight… I feel like a kid who’s got his sums wrong. But I hand it to you, Gently. You were right and I was wrong… I reckon they don’t put you in the Central Office at the Yard for nothing.’
‘You weren’t the only one who was wrong,’ growled the super. ‘It just goes to show… you need specialists when it comes to homicide.’ He glanced at Gently, half-admiring, half-jealous. ‘I suppose it gets to be an instinct when someone’s been on the job as long as you have.’
Gently shrugged. ‘I started with an advantage… I saw young Huysmann riding on the Wall. One doesn’t do that sort of thing straight after murdering one’s father.’
‘All the same… it was a top-grade job.’
Gently smiled wanly at them. ‘I’m glad you’re pleased with me, just this once,’ he said, ‘because you’re not going to be pleased with me for very long.’
‘What? How do you mean, Gently?’ The super glanced at him quickly.
‘I mean that unlike yourselves, I do not regard the death of Fisher as being suicide.’
‘What!’
‘On the contrary, I am as positive as my specialization and acquired instinct can make me that it’s murder.’
There was a pause, fraught and ominous. Three pairs of eyes stared at Gently as though he had suddenly touched their owners with three red-hot pokers.
‘You’re off your chump!’ bawled Hansom, finding his voice. ‘You — you’ve got murder on the brain!’
‘It’s utterly preposterous!’ snapped the police doctor.
‘Really, Gently, I completely fail to understand-!’
Gently bowed and let the storm pass over his head. ‘I don’t expect you to agree with me until you’ve heard my reasons… but that is my conviction.’
‘But there is nothing — nothing whatever to suggest an attack!’
‘It’s the stupidest thing I ever heard!’
Gently turned to the furious little police doctor. ‘Were you able to form an opinion as to the direction in which the cut was made?’ he enquired mildly.
‘Direction? What in the world has that got to do with it?’
‘I’d like to have your opinion.’
‘As far as I can say it was made upwards, from the base of the throat to the ear. But-!’
‘If the cut were self-inflicted, isn’t it more likely to have been made in the other direction… from the ear downwards?’
The little man fumed at him. ‘It could be made in either direction — it is only slightly more likely to have been made downwards.’
‘And wouldn’t you say it was still more likely to have been made on the left side of the throat… bearing in mind that the razor was ostensibly held in his right hand?’
‘I think this is all highly irrelevant, Gently!’ broke in the super. ‘It’s ridiculous to suppose that you can deduce murder from such trivial considerations.’