‘We heard they asked about Iestyn Probert,’ I said.
‘They did, and I told them the Proberts are not from round here, they used to live over at Ystumtuen, but they’ve moved. I didn’t say they hanged Iestyn because it didn’t seem nice if they were friends of his.’
‘Maybe they told you lots of interesting things but you can’t remember them,’ said Calamity hopefully.
‘Maybe they did, but if I can’t remember them, they’re not much use to me, are they?’
‘We were wondering, maybe you should be hypnotised to stop you getting nightmares.’
‘I’m not getting nightmares.’
‘But you will,’ lied Calamity. ‘They always do. We could arrange a hypnotism session to straighten you out. You know Mrs Bwlchgwallter from Ginger Nutters? She could do it. I mean, you must be curious to find out what happened.’
‘Not really, to tell you the truth.’
Chapter 8
Refugees from caravan sites shuffled through the town, glistening and torpid in the wet, not so much a drizzle as a tingling miasma of rain. The damp seeped up through my bones and made the climb up the stairs to the office feel more difficult, as if gravity had increased.
The window had been left ajar and rain formed a pool on the windowsill. Calamity had put newspaper down to soak up the puddle. The rooftops of the town looked like they had been varnished. The phone had been replaced and was ringing as I entered. I picked it up.
‘This is Mrs Lewis.’
‘Hello Mrs Lewis.’
‘You remember me? From Laura Place.’
‘The doctor’s housekeeper! How is he today?’
‘Never mind that. I have something that might interest you.’
‘Really?’
‘Information that might be useful to your case.’
‘What case is this?’
‘Don’t get fresh with me, Mr Knight. The whole town knows you are a private detective.’
‘I expect they do; it’s not a secret.’
‘I haven’t got much time; the doctor is taking his afternoon nap but he is easily roused. Listen very carefully. The price will be £25. Cash would be preferable, but I will accept a personal cheque drawn on an account bearing your name.’
‘What about a postal order?’
She hesitated. ‘That’s a bit troublesome, but I expect . . . oh I see. That was a wisecrack, wasn’t it? I was warned to expect this sort of flippancy.’
‘I’m not sure if it counts as a wisecrack.’
‘Mr Knight, do you want the information or not?’
‘Tell me what it is.’
‘You must think I’m daft. If I tell you what it is you won’t have to pay for it.’
‘But how can I pay for it if I don’t know what it is?’
I could sense a growing exasperation. ‘B . . . but you . . . you always pay for your information, don’t you?’
‘Not always. Sometimes people give it to me for free, although that happens less and less these days. Usually when I pay it’s for something I want and I know the party has but doesn’t want to give me.’
‘But that’s me.’
‘Yes, but I don’t know what you’ve got.’
‘It’s about the matter you were discussing with the doctor.’
‘And what was that?’
‘As if you didn’t know.’
‘Oh, I know all right; I was just wondering how you knew. You weren’t there.’
‘It’s possible I may have overheard some of your conversation with your girl while I was waiting for the kettle to boil.’
‘That can happen.’
‘Sometimes words carry –’
‘I’ve noticed that. Especially through keyholes. It’s something to do with the acoustics in old houses . . . Aberystwyth is famous for it.’
‘Such impertinence!’
‘Just tell me what you’ve got, and I can warn you now it won’t be worth £25. Maybe a tenner if it’s really good.’
‘Fifteen pounds is my final offer.’
‘OK, twelve if I really like it. That’s my final offer.’
‘It’s about someone called Iestyn Probert.’
‘What about him?’
‘He came to see the doctor the night the boys robbed the Coliseum cinema.’
I tightened my grip on the phone; it was almost as if she had sent an electric jolt along the line. Mrs Lewis cackled like a witch discussing holiday plans with her familiar. ‘Ha ha! You’re not so cocky now, are you, Mr Big Shot Wise-Cracking Snooper.’
I said nothing, waited for the moment of cheap triumphalism to pass. It took a while.
‘Oh yes, not so cocky now, are we?’
‘That’s very interesting.’
‘More than interesting, I’d say, wouldn’t you? I was surprised, you see, they never mentioned it in the papers.’
‘Yes, I can see why that would surprise you.’
‘Fifteen pound.’
‘It’s not that interesting,’ I lied.
‘Don’t play games with me, Mr Knight, I heard you gasp from here. And that was just the starter, that’s nothing compared to what else I know.’
‘Mrs Lewis –’
‘I’ve got to go, I can hear him stirring. Meet me at the community singing at Castle Point tonight at 9.00.’
There was a pause.
‘Well?’ she said.
‘I was just waiting for you to say, “No police and no funny stuff”.’
‘I won’t rise to your bait. Bring £15 and make sure you are not followed. Castle Point community singing, at the back.’ She hung up.
Calamity having divined that the call had taken me aback, stared at my face for clues.
‘Whose turn is it to make the tea?’ I asked.
Before she could answer there came the sound of singing from the stairwell, a strange mixture of giggling and wailing. A man appeared in the doorway, dressed – except for a white shirt – entirely in black. Black suit, black tie, black silk handkerchief peeping out of his jacket pocket, black pigskin gloves, black shoes. He carried a charcoal fedora with a black band and wore a black flower in his buttonhole. He also carried a folded newspaper. His face was old and wrinkled like a prune but surmounted by a perfectly smooth bald dome of a head which was entirely clear of wrinkles. It made him look ancient and alien like a goblin foetus. His eyes were piercing arctic blue and he smiled.
‘I’ve come about the car,’ he said.
Calamity and I glanced at each other.
He held out the newspaper. ‘Black 1947 Buick, one careful lady owner.’
‘Oh!’ said Calamity. ‘They put the advert in a week early. Oh no.’
The man looked up and around at the room. ‘Wow, a real private detective’s office. I wasn’t lucky enough to see one on my last visit to Earth. My sister was so disappointed.’ A tiny frown flitted across his face and a look of concentration formed. ‘But there is a feature, common to all such places, that is missing.’ He looked up and clicked his fingers. ‘The desk!’
I clicked my fingers too. ‘Why don’t you take a seat, Mr . . .’
‘Joe, my name’s Joe. With an H.’
‘Where does the H go?’
‘Where do they usually go?’
‘Usually they don’t go anywhere; most people spell Joe without an H.’
His face fell. ‘Really?’
‘It’s an old Earth custom.’
‘After the J is probably best,’ said Calamity.
‘After the J, yes, that sounds like a good place.’
‘Jhoe it is then,’ I said.
‘So you’ve come about the car,’ said Calamity.
‘Yes, can I see it now?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Calamity. ‘It’s still stuck at Customs.’
‘Oh, I see. Maybe in that case you can tell me the price; your newspaper advertisement failed to mention it.’
‘We were thinking of offers in the region of £25,000 weren’t we, Louie?’