‘Only because someone blew one for them,’ said Hodge.
‘Meaning?’ said Flint whose blood pressure had soared. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning they were tipped off we were on to them and they took cover in the American airbase and dumped the stuff.’
‘I hope you’re not suggesting I had anything to do–’
‘Not you, Flint. Just take a dekko at the evidence. Wilt has this job teaching Yanks at Lakenheath and this guy Immelmann’s been stationed there. So Wilt’s got contacts with Yanks even before he starts. That’s one. Two is PCP is an American drug. Designer drug and the Lord Lieutenant’s daughter dies of an overdose at the Tech where Wilt teaches her. ODs on PCP. There’s more evidence, a whole heap of it and it all points one way. To the Wilts. You can’t deny it, Flint. And another thing. Where else was Wilt teaching? In the hoosegow here in Ipford.’
‘Hodge, we don’t have hoosegows in Britain. You’ve got America on the brain.’
‘All right. Wilt was teaching in the prison and mixing with some of the nastiest villains in the drug business. That’s three strikes against the bastard. Number four is–’
‘Hodge, don’t let me interrupt you but you can’t have four strikes in baseball. Miss three and you’re out. If you really want to go transatlantic, you’ve got to get these things right. You’ll never make the Yankee Stadium if you go on like this.’
‘Very funny, I’m sure. You always were known for your wit. Well, this time just stick to the evidence. Mrs Wilt’s aunt is married to a known drug importer in the States. OK, they’re legit those drugs. On the surface. Then again he’s got a place in the Caribbean and a motor boat that does over sixty knots and on top of that he has planes. Learjets and Beechcraft. All the apparatus for a highly lucrative drug pusher. And Mrs Wilt just happens to visit him with her quads. Very good diversionary tactics those quads. And to top it all Wilt isn’t home and no one knows where he’s hidden himself. It adds up, it all adds up. You’ve got to admit that.’
Flint hitched his chair forward. ‘Wilt’s hidden himself? No one knows where he’s got to? Are you certain about that?’ he asked.
Hodge nodded triumphantly. ‘Add this to the catalogue,’ he said. ‘The day Mrs Wilt flies into Atlanta her husband goes to the building society and draws out a large sum in cash. In cash. And where does he leave his credit cards and passport? At home. On the kitchen table. That’s right, on the kitchen table,’ he said as Flint’s face registered astonishment. ‘Bed not made. Washing-up not done. Dirty plates still on the table. Drawers in the chest of drawers in the bedroom open. Car still in the garage. Nothing missing except Mr Henry Wilt. Not a bloody thing. Even his shoes are there. We got the cleaning lady to check them out. So what does that tell you?’
‘It makes a change,’ said Flint sourly. He disliked being wrong-footed, especially by clowns like Hodge.
‘Makes a change? What’s that supposed to mean?’ Hodge demanded.
‘It means just this. The first time I ran into Wilty, it was his wife was missing. Supposed to be down a damned great pile hole at the Tech. Only it just so happens Wilt has stuffed an inflatable plastic doll dressed in Mrs Eva bloody Wilt’s clothes down there and they put twenty tons of pre-mix on top of her. In fact she is living it up with a couple of daffy Americans on a stolen boat on the Broads. So where is Mrs Wilt now? Sitting pretty…well, as near pretty as she’ll ever get at any rate, in the United States and it’s our Henry who is missing. Yes, that makes a change. It does indeed.’
‘You don’t think he’s done a runner?’ Hodge asked.
‘With Wilt I’ve given up thinking. I have not the faintest idea what goes on in that mad blighter’s mind. All I do know is it won’t be what you think it is. It’s going to be something you wouldn’t even dream of thinking about. So don’t ask me what he’s done. I wouldn’t have a clue.’
‘Well, my guess is he’s getting himself an alibi,’ said Hodge.
‘With his credit cards and all on the kitchen table?’ said Flint. ‘And none of his clothes missing? Doesn’t sound much like a voluntary disappearance to me. Sounds more like something has happened to the little bastard. Have you checked the hospital?’
‘Of course I have. The first thing I did. Checked every goddam hospital in the area. No one answering his description has been booked in. I’ve checked the morgues, the lot, and he is not around. Makes you think, doesn’t it?’
‘No,’ said Flint firmly. ‘It does not. I’ve told you. Where Henry Wilt is concerned I don’t even try to think. It hurts too much.’
All the same when Superintendent Hodge left Flint sat on considering the situation.
‘There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of Wilty being involved in drugs,’ he told Sergeant Yates. ‘And can you see Eva Wilt in what that madman Hodge would call that ‘ball game’? I’m damned if I can. They may be crazy, the Wilts, but they’re the least likely people to start committing real crimes.’
‘I know, sir,’ said Yates. ‘But Hodge is presenting a pretty nasty profile to the American authorities. I mean, it doesn’t look good all that stuff about Lakenheath and so on.’
‘It’s all purely circumstantial. He hasn’t got even the tiniest shred of real evidence,’ said Flint. ‘Let’s just hope the police over there see that. I wouldn’t want the Wilt family up before an American court. Not after the OJ trial. Television in the courtroom and everyone becomes a bloody actor. And we know what twerps they are.’ He paused in thought. ‘I wonder where the hell our Henry’s got to, though. That’s the real mystery.’
Chapter 17
‘I’m so worried about Henry,’ Eva told Auntie Joan. ‘I’ve tried calling him time and again–seven times today–and he’s never in.’
‘Maybe he’s teaching this course you told me about. The one about Tradition and Culture for Canadians.’
‘But that only takes up an hour or two and he wouldn’t be teaching it at six in the morning,’ said Eva. ‘I mean, the time difference is five hours, isn’t it?’
‘It’s five hours later in the UK. The time there now must be around midnight,’ said Auntie Joan. In his chair in front of the TV Uncle Wally groaned. He’d had a hard day trying to keep the thought of Dr Cohen and the scandal of being known as a sodomiser out of his mind. It was impossible. Life in Wilma could become impossible. The scandal had come at the worst possible time just when he was thinking of diversifying Immelmann Enterprises into pharmaceuticals. And here he was saddled with a woman who didn’t know that English time was five hours ahead of Eastern US time. Like she didn’t understand the sun rose in the east.
‘But then he must be at home,’ said Eva, her anxiety reaching a new pitch. ‘I’ve been phoning him every day around this time because he finishes his course by midday and he never stays out late at night. Do you think I should try again?’
‘Yes,’ said Wally. ‘I definitely think you should. He could have had an accident. Guy down in Alabama fell off a stepladder last fall and his wife kept calling and he couldn’t reach the phone. Couldn’t make the fridge either. Died of starvation. That and thirst. They didn’t find him until some kids broke in and there he was nothing but skin and bone.’
He didn’t have to say any more. Eva was already in the bedroom trying to get through again.
‘You didn’t have to tell her that,’ said Auntie Joan. ‘That was a real mean thing to say.’