|
"So, now you know,
oinker, now you know!”
She looked up, startled and
frightened. “You been standin’ there long, Jimbo?”
“Not long, darl, -- but long
enough! Hard to take a nap, darl, with all that squealin’ goin’ on!”
“It’s a laugh on Lambert all
right. -- You hiding out in his own house all this time!” But I wasn’t
laughing.
“Not all the time, oinker. I
got other pals!”
“Give me your pistol, Jimbo.”
He stepped forward out of
the shadow. For the first time, I had a really good look at him. Yes,
definitely an inch or two shorter than me, but he had a good few pounds
– at least half a stone – advantage in weight. Not that he was running
to fat. He had a bit of a paunch, just enough to round out his stomach
so that it matched his fleshy cheeks and jowly chin. His hair was black,
but receding; his eyes dark brown, but narrow; his teeth white and
straight, but his nose flat. It was not an unhandsome face, though well
past the first summer of its youth. Deep worry lines had etched their
way unevenly across his forehead, black hollows had semi-circled the
undersides of his eyes. Outfitted in black shoes, black slacks and a
black, turtle-neck jumper, he looked like an ageing but experienced,
confidently sardonic thief – a man who lives on his wits and his
anti-social skills!
“You’ll have to take it from
me first, oinker!”
I ignored the cliché. “Just
come along. I’ll phone for a cab to take us all down to Echo Point and
you can give yourself up to Berwick. He’ll give you a fair hearing,
especially now that I can tell him—“
“Maybe I don’t want to go,
mate.”
“Don’t talk like a bloody
Little Caesar! Let’s ring for a cab.”
“Yeah, come on, Jimbo,”
urged Connie.
Punter spread his hands. “So
I get sent up! What’s a few years?”
“It’s better than being
bloody dead!” she exclaimed.
“Then what? We start our
little games all over? No, darl! All the pieces are on the bloody board
now. We’re just waitin’ for curtain up, the starter’s flag to fall.”
“It’s the starter’s gun
you’re waiting for, Jimbo – and it’s not loaded with blanks. I’m ringing
for the cab!”
Punter shook his head. He
was still smiling. “Never did trust an honest copper – they’re as full
of tricks as a bag of cats!”
I moved forward and laid my
hand on his shoulder. “James J. Punter, it’s my duty to place you under
arrest on a charge of trespass and entering. I warn you that anything—“
He turned to Connie. “Didn’t
I tell ya, darl? Full o’ tricks!”
“I’ve got no choice. You
said it yourself!”
He laughed. “So bloody
honest ya’d risk another crack on the skull? Maybe this time I won’t be
so gentle? Ahh! What’s the use? Why are we talkin’like this? In the
first place, copper, I got no pistol! Never carry a gun. I’m extra
careful, see!”
“What did you do with it,
Jimbo?”
“I never ruddy well had it.”
“Who shot Taylor then?”
“Aren’t you the flamin’
hot-shot cop? Bloody tell me!” |
