A Spoonful of Luger (30 page)

He
gave
me
a
look
under
lifted
eyebrows.
It
was
just
what
I’d
have
asked.
I
grinned
at
him.
I
was
fairly
confident
how
Tony
would
reply.

“I
don’t
see
how,”
said
Tony,
and
I
cursed
him
silently.
He
was
locked
in
a
kind
of
stubborn
persistence.

“
You
had
the
duplicate
for
a
while.
Between
the
time
you
took
it
from
under
the
table,
and
the
time
you
gave
it
Norman.”

Tony
shook
his
head.
“There
wasn’t
any
time.
Norm’d
come
down
with
a
car
—
the
last
job
he
did.
He
always
got
there
before
Dennis.
But
I
hadn’t been
able
to
get
it
— kind
of
scared, you
know.
Anyway,
Norm
stood
in
the
office
doorway,
cussing
me,
and
keeping
watch
while
I
got
at
it.
I
grabbed
the
pouch,
shook
the
key
out,
and
gave
it
to
him.
Then
I
stuck
the
pouch
back.”

Bycroft
plucked
at
his
lip.
It
wasn’t
sounding
good.

“Which’d
be
difficult
to
prove,
now.”

“It’s
what
happened.”

“But
it
was
there
before
Norman
asked
you
for
it.
You
could’ve
had
it
out
— ”

“What
d’you
want
me
to
say?”
Tony
demanded.
“The
truth,
or
not?”

“You
could’ve
had
it
out,
made
an
impression ...
”

“I
don’t
reckon
it’d
ever
been
out,”
Tony
said.
“That
pouch,
it’d
got
a
kind
of
felt
lining,
and
it’d
been
shut
so
long
it’d
all
stuck
together.
I
had
a
job
opening
it
up.”

The
idiot,
he
was
ploughing
himself
right
into
it.
Didn’t
he
see
that?
He
couldn’t
prove
one
bit
of
this,
and they’d
nail
him.
But
Bycroft
was
turning
to
face
me
complacently.
It
satisfied
him
—
for
the
moment
because
he
wanted
it
to.

“I
asked,
George,
you
must
admit
I
asked.
Now
—
d’you
agree
there
couldn’t
have
been
a
third
key
made?
There
just
had
to
be
two
guns.”

“It’s
not
a
debating
society,”
I
said,
thoroughly
sick
of
his
self-induced
theories.
“All
you’ve
got
to
do
is
wait
for
the
lab
report.”

I
shrugged
as
though
it
didn’t
matter,
and
to
deprive
him
of
the
pleasure
of
seeing
how
much
it
did.

“So
go
away,
George,
go
and
do
something
useful.”

“I’ll
do
that,”
I
promised
him.
“I’ll
go
and
do
my
messenger-boy
act,
and
tell
the
Randalls
there’s
no
progress.”

He
growled,
and
Sprague
chewed
violently
as
I
walked
past
him
to
the
door.

“I
don’t
think
I’ll
tell
them
why,”
I
added.

And
after
all
that,
the
bloody
car wouldn’t
start,
and
when
it
finally
picked
up
it
sounded
as
though
it
was
flying
apart.

Something
else
to
tell
Randall.
Cheer
him
up
a
bit.

7

BUT
that
night
I
didn’t
tell
him
anything.
There
really
wasn’t
any
need
for
me
to
say
a
word,
as
he
could
read
the
news
from
my
face.

“The
wife’s
in
bed,”
he
said.
“Took
a
sleeping
pill.”

“Good.”

You
could
feel
it
in
the
house,
a
quiet
despair,
an
acceptance
of
distress.
The
desperate
hope
I’d
encountered
before
seemed
to
have
mellowed.
It
was
better
that
way,
perhaps.

He
said:
“She
can’t
carry
on
much
longer.”

I
nodded,
and
left.
Maybe
there
wasn’t
going
to
be
much
more
waiting,
because,
as
Anne
said
when
I
picked
her
up
the
next
day,
“you’ve
got
an
idea,
George.”

It
hadn’t
been
much
when
I’d mentioned
it
to
her
before.
I
eased
the
car
down
the
hill,
and
now
it
was
much
more.
I
told
her
what
I
wanted
from
her.
It
was
a
clear
morning,
the
roads
only
wet.

“They’ve
been
searching
in
the
Green
Belt
area,
Anne,
because
they
reckoned
she’d
been
picked
up
by
the
same
person
who
killed
Annabelle
Lester,
and
she
was
found
there.”

“I
remember.
Have
you
had
any
sleep?”

“But
I
don’t
think
he’d
do
that
— take
Dulcie
to
the
same
place.”

“I
wish
you
wouldn’t
talk
like
that.
You’re
too
hard,
George.”

“Have
to
be.
Now
tell
me
if
I’m
wrong.
This
ring
road
of
yours
—
it
goes
past
the
bus
stop
where
Dulcie
was
waiting,
but
does
it
also
go
past
the
spot
where
Annabelle
stood?”