really quite a kindly old thing.”
Corridan lost his smile, fixed me with a cold stare.
“You take your idea of a joke a little too far, Harmas,” he said
with asperity.
“Don’t get annoyed, pal,” I said. “I’m not in a fit state to be
bullied.”
Crystal sat in a corner away from us, folded her hands in her lap,
tried to look demure.
Corridan leaned forward. “Let’s cut out this fooling,” he said.
“Who’s been knocking you about?”
I sighed, hung my head. “I was teasing a midget, and he lost his
temper,” I said, closed my eyes.
Crystal sniggered, coughed, cleared her throat. Corridan looked
annoyed.
“Now look, Harmas, that sort of thing won’t do. You’ve caused a
lot of trouble, and we want to know what’s behind it.”
“I’ve told you,” I said, patiently. “At least, that’s my story, and I’m
sticking to it. I have no complaints to make. I shall pay the hospital
fees. I real y don’t see why a flock of flatfeet should come barging in
here to know why and what.”
Corridan breathed heavily, shifted in his chair.
“You’ve been assaulted,” he explained. “That is a police matter. It
is your duty to file a complaint.”
“I’m most certainly not going to provide police with work,” I said
crossly. “I stuck my neck out, and I got what was coming to me. This is
a personal matter, and I don’t want you or your pals horning in. So
forget it.”
Corridan studied me for a moment, shrugged. “All right,” he said,
“if you’re still suffering from I’ll-steer-my-own-boat complex, there’s
nothing more to be said. If you’re not going to file a complaint that
let’s me out.” He pushed back his chair, stood up. “I think I warned
you to keep out of this business, didn’t I? It would seem someone else
is also trying to persuade you. If this has anything to do with the
Kennitt murder, you must tell me who did it or take the
consequences.”
“I’ll take the consequences,” I said flippantly.
Corridan snorted. “Has this or has this not anything to do with the
Kennitt murder?”
“I wouldn’t know. The thugs who beat me up didn’t leave their
names and addresses.”
“So it’s thugs now?”
“That’s right. I was kidding about a midget. You know me: I’m
tough. Takes more than a midget to beat me up. Those guys were
twice as big as Joe Louis. Twelve of them set on me and I fought them
for two or three hours. And what a tight I gave them! I laid eight of
them out-crying for mercy they were. The other four kept coming and
I kept hitting them. The siege of Stalingrad was nothing to it. Finally
paused as Corridan, giving me an awful look, stamped out of the
room.
Crystal ran over to me.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have annoyed him like that,” she said,
shocked. “He might get you into trouble.”
I reached out, pulled her down beside me.
“That wouldn’t worry me, honey,” I said. “The guy’s harmless
enough, but dumb.”
“I don’t like him,” Crystal said, putting her head on my shoulder.
She hurt me, but it was worth it. “I don’t like the way he looks at me.”
“And just how does he look at you?”
“That’s something a girl could only tell her mother,” she replied
primly.
A few minutes later a nurse came in. Crystal had heard her coming
and was standing by the window, trying to look unruffled and not
succeeding very well. The nurse shooed her away, then took my pulse,
dabbed something on my bruises and told me to go to sleep.
Oddly enough, I didn’t seem to need much encouragement, and I
didn’t awaken until dusk was falling. I felt better, got out of bed,
walked stiffly across to the mirror on the wall, examined my features
with mixed feelings.
I certainly looked a great deal worse than I felt. I had two black
eyes, the end of my nose was red and swol en, two livid bruises
showed on my cheek-bones, my right ear was puffy. My chest and
arms were black with bruises. The three thugs had certainly done a
good job on me.
I returned to my bed, stretched out, decided I wasn’t quite fit
enough to start any trouble for the time being. In a day or so I should
be ready for Bradley. I was going to surprise that rat.
I heard footsteps, followed by a knock on the door. I cal ed;
“Come in,” hopefully, half sat up.
The door opened and a sad looking little man wandered in. I
gaped at him, scarcely believing my eyes. It was Henry Littlejohns.
“For the love of. mike!” I exclaimed, struggling upright. “What
brings you here.”
“Good evening, Mr. Harmas,” he said, in his sad voice. He looked
around for somewhere to park his bowler hat, laid it down on the
chest of drawers, came farther into the room. “I’m indeed sorry to
find you in this unhappy state, sir,” he went on, visibly shocked at my
appearance. “I trust you are making a good recovery?”
“Never mind all that stuff,” I said, impatiently. “I’m fine. Sit down.
Make yourself at home. I thought you were in Lakeham.”
“So I was, sir,” he said, drawing up a chair and sitting down. He
pulled up his trousers so they shouldn’t bag at the knees, fidgeted
with his feet. “At least, I was until this afternoon.”
I saw he wasn’t at ease, offered my carton of cigarettes.
“No, thank you, sir,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t smoke.” He
regarded me with his sad eyes, chewed the end of his moustache.
“Something to report?” I asked, wondering what was coming.
“Not exactly, sir,” he said, drumming on his knees. “I don’t
suppose you’ve heard from Mr. Merryweather yet?”
“I’ve heard nothing from Merryweather,” I said, puzzled.
“Anything wrong?”
Littlejohns stroked his greying hair, looked self-conscious. “The
fact of the matter is, sir, Mr. Merryweather has withdrawn from your
case.”
“The hel he has,” I said, sitting bolt-upright, and wishing I hadn’t.
“What’s the idea?”
“You see, sir, Mr. Merryweather at no time thought the
investigation within our usual terms of reference,” Littlejohns
explained. “The-er-pecuniary aspect of the case interested him—
tempted him, you might say, but he now has been threatened-well,
he thinks there’ll be no useful purpose served in continuing the
investigation.”
I pricked up my ears. “Threatened?”
Littlejohns nodded gravely. “Apparently two men visited him
yesterday morning. They were rough characters, and they made it
clear that if he did not immediately stop working for you, they would
settle his hash, I believe was the phrase used.”
I lit a cigarette, scowled. It seemed Bradley was working overtime.
“You mean Merryweather allowed these two guys to throw a
scare into him?”
“They were exceptional y rough characters,” Littlejohns said
hurriedly, as if anxious to excuse Merryweather’s lack of courage.
“They smashed his desk, said they had beaten you up and would beat
Merryweather up too. He isn’t exactly young, and he has a wife to
consider. I can’t say I blame him for withdrawing, and I hope, sir,
you’ll take the same view.”