Gently in the Sun by Alan Hunter Read Free Book Online

on Rachel. You intended to catch her in the act. You had made up your mind to murder her if you found her with her lover.
    ‘You did catch her and you strangled her. You were going to put the body in the sea. But then, when you got it to the beach, you found the fishermen there with their boats, and later on, when you returned, the tide was flooding and you couldn’t put her in. So you left her on the beach. It was the only thing you could do. And you crept back to your bedroom, ready to be surprised at nine.
    ‘Only – and this is the curious point – your Starmouth alibi doesn’t cover you. She may have been dead when you say you got back, but on the other hand you still had time in which to do the job. Either way it’s a fair case, and we might make it stick.
    ‘Do you still think we’re being unreasonable in viewing you as a suspect?’
    Gently had rarely seen a human being reduced tosuch a mess. Mixer’s streaming face was grey, his eyes staring like a sick dog’s. His whole aspect, in fact, suggested that of a distempered animal. He breathed quickly and fiercely through dilated nostrils.
    ‘On the other hand there’s this in your favour.’
    It was a toss-up whether Mixer was listening or not.
    ‘You’ve given this alibi in apparent good faith, which suggests that you didn’t know when Rachel Campion was killed. That doesn’t let you out – it might simply mean that you’re being clever! But on the whole, it would have been easier for you to have squared it than not. Only another things hangs to it. For what, then, was the alibi? There’s an odd smell about that, and I should like to know what it is.’
    Mixer tried to wet his lips but they and his tongue seemed equally parched. His eyes had an unhinged expression as though he were losing touch with his surroundings.
    ‘When did you say?’
    He had to swallow several times.
    ‘When did you say it happened?’
    ‘I didn’t, but it was some time between eleven and one.’
    ‘Then!’
    Colour rushed back. The eyes appeared to switch on.
    ‘What were you going to say?’
    ‘Nothing – only it wasn’t me!’
    A bell rang somewhere, perhaps the tea bell in the lounge. It was followed by a voice calling from one of the upper windows. Two youngsters ran up the pathand disappeared into the hall: one heard the double clang of feet as they bounded over the door grille.
    ‘I think you’d better listen to this.’
    Gently was stung by the mistake he’d made. Mixer was dabbing his face again and flapping his shirt-front to cool himself. A moment ago he’d been putty, but now, inexplicably …
    ‘You did two years for embezzlement – that’s on the official record. But just in case you think we’re asleep, here’s the other part of the story.
    ‘We know what your business is – you’re a promoter of fake companies. Up till now you’ve been lucky with it, but don’t let it kid you. And there’s something else that interests us. A little matter of warehouse robberies! There’ve been six of them in the last two years from which connections have been traced to a certain Alfie Mixer.
    ‘To be blunt, your career is just about to catch up with you, and this time it won’t stop at a paltry couple of years. So if you know anything about this business you’d better spit it out – it might be worth a few summers spent in Pentonville or Wands-worth .’
    He had struck the right note. Mixer’s craven look returned. Twice he had tried to get a word in and now, when he did, his voice came in a sorry croak:
    ‘You can’t prove nothing about that!’
    But the words lacked conviction – you could read his mind at a glance; as though his thoughts were being written across that sloping, sweating forehead.
    ‘Have you nothing else to say?’
    ‘I’m going to ring up my solicitor.’
    ‘You’d do better to come clean.’
    ‘I ain’t done nothing. I’m going to ring him!’
    People were coming in to tea and one could hear their muffled voices. A