The Gigantic Shadow by Julian Symons Read Free Book Online

him?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well, Brannigan told this girl he was working for Mekles, see. I told the police that.’
    ‘What did they think of it?’
    Charlie’s mouth turned down in mock self-deprecation. ‘Not much.’
    ‘Have the police been in touch with him?’
    ‘How would I know? The sergeant didn’t tell me. There’s another thing, Bill.’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘I don’t want you to think I’m sticking my nose in. Though you may say it’s long enough.’ Charlie grinned.
    ‘I didn’t say it.’ He didn’t grin back.
    ‘You’re not treating that girl right, Bill, running out on her the way you have. A lovely girl like that. It’s none of my business, really.’
    ‘You’re right there.’
    ‘But I’ve got to say it. You’re not treating her right, a girl like that. I call it a damned shame.’
    He said nothing. Charlie drained his glass and ordered another. ‘PMYOB, is it? All right, you don’t have to say it out loud. But I wanted to talk to you about Bond.’
    ‘What about him?’
    ‘There doesn’t seem any doubt it was suicide, but still there was something rotten in the state of Denmark. Suppose you and I took a looksee to try and find out something.’
    ‘Can it do any good? I don’t see the point.’
    ‘Hard to tell whether there’s any point,’ Charlie said carefully. ‘May be a waste of time. Half the things we do are a waste of time if you ask me. Won’t get you your job back, that’s for sure. But if we turned up something that put you in the clear with the police, it wouldn’t do any harm. Wouldn’t do me any harm either, to tell you the truth.’
    Suddenly he felt warmly affectionate towards Charlie, aware of the utterly unassuming nature of his friendship. ‘Let’s look around,’ he said. ‘And thanks.’
    ‘Hoped you’d say that. I fixed an appointment for us to see the caretaker of Bond’s block of flats. In half an hour. Just got time for another pint.’

Chapter Eight
    Bond had lived in a large block of anonymous flats, a greyish slab at the back of Marble Arch. The caretaker, to Hunter’s surprise, was a woman, a dark square-faced motherly woman in her forties named Mrs Williams, who watched with apparent fascination the toothpick that shuttled from side to side of Charlie’s mouth. But although fascinated she was cautious. ‘I’ve told the police everything, of course. And newspapermen too. What would you gentlemen be wanting information for, now?’
    Charlie rolled the toothpick frantically. His explanation was voluble but confused. Hunter caught words and phrases. ‘…journalists…my editor said…something more behind it, Cash, than simple…heart of the mystery…get right down there and find out…’ He took out his wallet, but the woman’s eyes showed no gleam at sight of the notes with which it was stuffed.
    She seemed merely puzzled. ‘I’ve got my work to do, you know, but I don’t mind answering questions if they don’t take too much time. But there’s no mystery that I know of. Mr Bond jumped out of the window, poor man, and that’s all there is to it.’
    ‘Ah, but why did he jump?’ Charlie put his head on one side as he asked the question, to which he immediately added another. ‘Did you know that he took drugs?’
    ‘I did not. But how would I have done? I used to clean up there for an hour every day, but I never saw anything suspicious. For the matter of that, I probably wouldn’t have recognised it anyway.’
    ‘You cleaned up the flat,’ Charlie said in an astonished voice, rather as if she had told him she performed a daily miracle. In what was almost a whisper he said, ‘Would it be possible for us – my friend here and I – to have a look over it?’
    She looked doubtful, and he again produced the wallet. This time she spoke decisively. ‘You can put that thing away, and stop flashing your money at me. I’m an honest widow, Mr Cash, quite satisfied with what I get from my job here. If I show you the flat it’s because I