The Bat(81)

Birgitta said nothing.

‘A man rang earlier today and I happened to pick up the phone. He did try to distort his voice by slurring, but I recognised the accent. It was Mr Holy again, and he asked to speak to you, Birgitta.’

Birgitta’s head shot up. ‘Harry? Today?’

Alex took off his glasses. ‘You know I have a soft spot for you, Birgitta, and I admit I’ve taken this . . . er, leak a bit personally. I had hoped that in time we might become good friends. So, don’t be stupid and destroy everything.’

‘Did he ring from Norway?’

‘I wish I could confirm that he had, but sad to say it sounded like an extremely local line. You know very well that I have nothing to hide, Birgitta, nothing with any relevance for this case at any rate. And that’s what they’re after, isn’t it? It won’t help Inger if you blab about all the other stuff. So, can I rely on you, my dear Birgitta?’

‘What is all the other stuff, Alex?’

He appeared surprised. ‘I thought Inger might have told you. About the drive.’

‘What drive?’

‘After work. I thought Inger was giving me quite a lot of encouragement and things got somewhat out of hand. All I was going to do was drive her home and I didn’t mean to frighten her, but she took my little joke a bit too literally, I’m afraid.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Alex, and I’m not sure I want to, either. Did Harry say where he was? Was he going to ring back?’

‘Hey, hey, wait a moment. You’re on first-name terms with the man and your cheeks colour up whenever I mention him. What’s actually going on here? Is there something between you two, or what?’

Birgitta rubbed her hands in anguish.

He leaned across the desk and put out a hand to pat her on the head, but she slapped it away with an irritated gesture.

‘Cut that out, Alex. You’re an idiot, and I’ve told you that before. Be less of an idiot the next time he calls, please. And ask where I can get hold of him, right?’ She got up and stomped out.

Speedy could scarcely believe his eyes when he entered the Cricket. Borroughs, behind the bar, shrugged his shoulders.

‘He’s been sitting there for two hours,’ he said. ‘He’s seriously tanked.’

Right in the corner at their regular table sat the man who was the indirect cause of two of his pals ending up in hospital. Speedy felt the new HK .45 ACP pistol in his calf holster and walked over to the table. The man’s chin had fallen onto his chest and he seemed to be asleep. A half-empty whiskey bottle was on the table in front of him.

‘Hi,’ Speedy shouted.

The man slowly raised his head and sent him an imbecilic smile.

‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ he slurred.

‘You’re sitting at the wrong table,’ said Speedy, and stood his ground. He had a busy evening ahead of him and couldn’t risk being delayed by this idiot. Customers could come in at any moment.

‘I want you to tell me something first,’ said the man.

‘Why should I?’ Speedy felt the pistol pressing against his trouser leg.

‘Because this is where you keep shop, because you just came in the door and therefore this is the time of the day when you’re at your most vulnerable because you have the goods on you and because you don’t want me to search you in front of all these witnesses. Stay where you are.’

It was only now that Speedy saw the muzzle of the Hi-Power which the man was holding in his lap and nonchalantly pointing straight at him.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘I want to know how often Andrew Kensington bought off you and when he made his last purchase.’

‘Have you got a tape recorder on you, cop?’

The cop smiled. ‘Relax. Testimonies made under threat of a gun don’t count. The worst that can happen is that I shoot you.’

‘OK, OK.’

Speedy could feel himself beginning to sweat. He weighed up the distance to his calf holster.

‘Unless what I’ve heard is lies, he’s dead. So it can’t hurt, can it. He was cautious, he didn’t want too much. He bought twice a week, one bag each time. Fixed routine.’

‘When was the last time he bought before playing cricket here?’

‘Three days before. He was going to buy the next day.’

‘Did he ever buy from others?’

‘Never. That I do know. This kind of thing is personal – a confidential matter, so to speak. Besides, he was a policeman and could hardly risk exposure.’

‘So when he was here he was almost out of junk? Yet several days later he had enough for an overdose that would probably have killed him if a cable hadn’t done it for him. How do you get that to tally?’