colour.
‘In the tent – that’s one thing! This … and him such a ponce! The next time I swear – when I get my hands on him! And she let him do it … she let him do it!’
It ended almost in a sob. Mixer shuddered with a great violence. He sagged forward in the sergeant’s grip and seemed as though he might have fallen.
‘So you weren’t jealous of her!’
Gently reversed the terrible painting.
‘She was just your secretary – the one you liked to have around! And was that why you kept an eye on her? Was that why you assaulted Simmonds? Or is it usual for you to behave that way when it comes to a secretary?’
‘You know why I didn’t tell you!’
Mixer writhed in the suppressing arms.
‘You’d have been on to me like a ton of bricks – I wouldn’t never have stood a chance! I got a record, haven’t I? I’m the bloke you’d try to pin it on. Put yourself in my place and ask yourself the question!’
‘So you admit that she was your mistress?’
‘My girl – that’s what she was!’
‘And you knew that she was unfaithful?’
‘Can’t you understand what it was like?’
Gently nodded. ‘I know something about her – she could turn the head of any male. It wasn’t just Simmonds, was it? He was simply the unlucky one. There were others from time to time, men you guessed about but never caught. That’s the truth of the matter, isn’t it – she had a lot of lovers?’
‘Not the way you put it!’
‘What difference does it make?’
‘She was a good girl, that’s what – a good girl. Can’t you see it? If a bloke made a pass …’
‘She wouldn’t turn it up.’
‘On account of that was her way – she couldn’t bring herself to say no!’
Gently made an impatient gesture but Mixer wouldn’t be put off. He struggled closer to the detective, thrusting his ugly face towards him.
‘I’m not lying to you – it’s the way she was made! It didn’t mean nothing, see? She just couldn’t help herself. And I’m honest with you – I was gone on her! Rachel was all the world to me. And she played the game … she did, I tell you! I’m not no bleeding catch, but because I was gone on her …’
‘Was entertaining Simmonds playing the game?’
‘She couldn’t help it – it was just her nature.’
‘And your nature to be jealous?’
‘I ain’t made of marble!’
‘Yet you left her alone all Tuesday evening.’
Mixer drew back a little, his eyes searching Gently’s. Twice his tongue went round his lips before he ventured on a reply.
‘So I told Maurice to keep a watch on her.’
‘Maurice? You mean the bartender?’
‘He’d got the evening off – I gave him some money to stop around.’
‘Wasn’t he the one who gave you an alibi?’
‘He didn’t mean no harm by that.’
‘In fact, what time did you get back to the Bel-Air?’
‘It was half past two and that’s the God’s honest truth!’
Gently nodded again, this time more slowly. The super, at his desk, was pencilling notes on a pad.
CHAPTER SEVEN
T HERE WAS NO sign of the weather breaking on the Friday morning, and Gently, fresh from his shower, selected another of his amazing shirts. This time it was the film-stars’ turn to have an outing. He spent a minute or two studying the effect in his wardrobe mirror. In front it was Miss Bardot in company with Miss Loren. Behind it was Miss Mansfield with Miss Dawn Addams. They had been portrayed, most probably, during just such another heatwave: they were sensibly dressed for it in light summer clothing. A garnish of palm trees assisted the composition, and the whole was carried out with a commendable vivacity.
When one was at Hiverton shouldn’t one make a gesture?
Dyson had rung him early with compliments about the Starmouth business, but his lab report, touching the beach pyjamas, was next door to negative. Gently had himself rung Pagram at the Central Office. His colleague had sounded unhopeful and apologetic.
‘We’ve worked back
‘In the tent – that’s one thing! This … and him such a ponce! The next time I swear – when I get my hands on him! And she let him do it … she let him do it!’
It ended almost in a sob. Mixer shuddered with a great violence. He sagged forward in the sergeant’s grip and seemed as though he might have fallen.
‘So you weren’t jealous of her!’
Gently reversed the terrible painting.
‘She was just your secretary – the one you liked to have around! And was that why you kept an eye on her? Was that why you assaulted Simmonds? Or is it usual for you to behave that way when it comes to a secretary?’
‘You know why I didn’t tell you!’
Mixer writhed in the suppressing arms.
‘You’d have been on to me like a ton of bricks – I wouldn’t never have stood a chance! I got a record, haven’t I? I’m the bloke you’d try to pin it on. Put yourself in my place and ask yourself the question!’
‘So you admit that she was your mistress?’
‘My girl – that’s what she was!’
‘And you knew that she was unfaithful?’
‘Can’t you understand what it was like?’
Gently nodded. ‘I know something about her – she could turn the head of any male. It wasn’t just Simmonds, was it? He was simply the unlucky one. There were others from time to time, men you guessed about but never caught. That’s the truth of the matter, isn’t it – she had a lot of lovers?’
‘Not the way you put it!’
‘What difference does it make?’
‘She was a good girl, that’s what – a good girl. Can’t you see it? If a bloke made a pass …’
‘She wouldn’t turn it up.’
‘On account of that was her way – she couldn’t bring herself to say no!’
Gently made an impatient gesture but Mixer wouldn’t be put off. He struggled closer to the detective, thrusting his ugly face towards him.
‘I’m not lying to you – it’s the way she was made! It didn’t mean nothing, see? She just couldn’t help herself. And I’m honest with you – I was gone on her! Rachel was all the world to me. And she played the game … she did, I tell you! I’m not no bleeding catch, but because I was gone on her …’
‘Was entertaining Simmonds playing the game?’
‘She couldn’t help it – it was just her nature.’
‘And your nature to be jealous?’
‘I ain’t made of marble!’
‘Yet you left her alone all Tuesday evening.’
Mixer drew back a little, his eyes searching Gently’s. Twice his tongue went round his lips before he ventured on a reply.
‘So I told Maurice to keep a watch on her.’
‘Maurice? You mean the bartender?’
‘He’d got the evening off – I gave him some money to stop around.’
‘Wasn’t he the one who gave you an alibi?’
‘He didn’t mean no harm by that.’
‘In fact, what time did you get back to the Bel-Air?’
‘It was half past two and that’s the God’s honest truth!’
Gently nodded again, this time more slowly. The super, at his desk, was pencilling notes on a pad.
CHAPTER SEVEN
T HERE WAS NO sign of the weather breaking on the Friday morning, and Gently, fresh from his shower, selected another of his amazing shirts. This time it was the film-stars’ turn to have an outing. He spent a minute or two studying the effect in his wardrobe mirror. In front it was Miss Bardot in company with Miss Loren. Behind it was Miss Mansfield with Miss Dawn Addams. They had been portrayed, most probably, during just such another heatwave: they were sensibly dressed for it in light summer clothing. A garnish of palm trees assisted the composition, and the whole was carried out with a commendable vivacity.
When one was at Hiverton shouldn’t one make a gesture?
Dyson had rung him early with compliments about the Starmouth business, but his lab report, touching the beach pyjamas, was next door to negative. Gently had himself rung Pagram at the Central Office. His colleague had sounded unhopeful and apologetic.
‘We’ve worked back
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