THREE

‘Patsy?’

‘That’s me.’

‘Frank Crane. I’d like your help. Do you know a bloke called Cliff who was a mate of Bobby Mahon’s, by any chance?’

‘Known him all my life. Cliff Greenwood. He lives nearby.’

‘Wasn’t he Bobby’s best friend?’

‘Never go near each other now.’

‘Why’s that, do you think?’

‘Because Cliff thinks Bobby did for Donna, like everyone else.’

‘But … wouldn’t Cliff have been one of the three friends of Bobby’s who were supposed to have been at home with him that night?’

‘Yes, I’d say that that must mean he knows Bobby wasn’t where he said he was.’

‘What kind of a bloke is he?’

‘Cliff? He’s been bad news in the past, like the others. And then he got a really decent probation bloke on his case. Talked him into starting over, got him to go back to his joinery classes. He’s in the double glazing now and going straight.’

‘Would that be why he split with Bobby?’

‘No, they were still best mates even when Cliff started going straight. Bobby didn’t hold it against him. I think he was more than a bit envious, you ask me. I sometimes think if only Bobby hadn’t had Dougie and Myrtle as parents … what chance did he have, poor sod?’

‘I need to talk to Cliff, Patsy. Where does he spend his evenings?’

‘He never goes near the Goose now. They say he’s been seen in the Toll Gate now and then.’

‘Would you do me a big favour? I daresay he’ll still be at home. Could you ring him and ask him if you could see him at the Toll Gate? Tell him your mum and dad are thinking of buying that bungalow and would like an idea on cost for putting in double glazing. Then we could go together, if you wouldn’t mind and you’re free. I could pick you up.’

‘Oh, I’ll be free,’ she said ’in a resigned tone. ‘I usually am.’

The Toll Gate was old, small and cosy. It had chintzy curtains, planters and wall lamps with rose-coloured shades. It wasn’t the sort of place that did pool tables. Cliff Greenwood sat gloomily over a pint of lager, as if nostalgic for pop music and the clicking of snooker balls. He was a near-clone of Mahon and his friends, except that his reddish hair was normal length and neatly combed, and he wore a newish sports jacket and twill trousers. He had a plump, slightly spotty face and grey-green eyes that watched Crane warily as he and Patsy joined him at a circular table with an ornate metal base.

‘Hi, Cliff. This is a friend of mine, Frank Crane.’

He looked startled. It couldn’t have done much for Patsy’s morale, Crane thought, Donna’s plain sister, not known for pulling the guys. Any guys.

‘How do,’ he said grudgingly, not offering a hand. Crane put down their drinks and they sat.

‘I’ve got some leaflets, Patsy. They’ll give Connie and Malc an idea what we do. I can give you a ballpark on price if you can tell me how many windows the bungalow’s got, but I’d need to see it to give you a proper estimate.’

‘Cliff,’ Crane said. ‘Forget the double glazing. I’m a private investigator who used to be a cop and I’m working for the Jacksons to see if I can clear up Donna’s killing.’

‘What’s this bugger’s game, Patsy?’ he said tersely. ‘I’m here about windows and if we’re not talking windows we’re talking nothing.’

‘Look, Cliff,’ Crane said, ‘I needed to see you and I needed Patsy to vouch for me. You do want Donna’s killing clearing up, don’t you, if that’s humanly possible?’

‘Look, mister, I did all my talking to the real police. I’m not doing any more.’ He began to swallow the rest of his pint. ‘I’m out of here.’

‘Cliff …’ Patsy put a hand on his arm. ‘You know Mam and Dad. You know how gutted they are about Donna. They’ll not rest till someone gets banged up for it. You don’t need me to tell you who.’

‘I know that, I know that …’ He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I’m gutted as well. We all are. She was very special. But I’m not going to talk about it any more.’

‘The police believe you’re protecting your best mate, Cliff,’ Crane said evenly.

‘Best mate!’ He gave his head a single, disgusted, upward shake.

‘Everyone knows you had a bust up, Cliff,’ Patsy said. ‘And no one really holds it against you for not grassing him, not on the Willows. They think he should have done the decent thing and owned up to where he was. No one believes you were all staying in, playing cards. You know that as well as I do.’

‘Yes, well … see you around.’ He slammed down his empty glass and got up.

Crane said, ‘Cliff, do you understand what perverting the course of justice means? Well, that’s what they’ll think you’ve done if Bobby really wasn’t at home that night. And if it ever comes out that he wasn’t they’re going to lean very hard on you and the others for wasting police time. And if it comes out that Bobby really is in the frame …’

Half turned away, he glanced back at them. ‘I’ll just have to take my chances then, won’t I?’

‘And lose the first decent job you’ve had in your life? And your self-respect? What do you make: four, five hundred sovs a week? Are you ready to walk away from all that?’

His round face took on a troubled look in the gathering dusk. Crane guessed he’d never allowed himself to think as far as that. Agitated, he turned away again.

‘Cliff,’ Crane said quietly, ‘I have police contacts. They trust me. If you helped me I’d put in a good word for you. We could say you’d alibied Bobby under duress. That means you were afraid what the Mahons would do if you grassed him.’

‘Christ, what do you think they’d do if I grassed him anyway?’ he said, so jumpy now he wasn’t guarding his words.

‘They’d never know. I’d keep your name out of everything to do with them. We’re not even having this little chat.’

‘Cliff …’ Patsy said.

Finally, with intense reluctance, he sat down again, staring miserably into space, forehead deeply furrowed.

‘Patsy, would you mind getting Cliff another lager. And another for yourself, if you like.’ He gave her a ten pound note.

As she moved off, from where they sat in a corner of the small bar parlour, Crane said, ‘Look … Cliff, all I really need to know for certain is that Bobby wasn’t home that night. I can take it from there. It’s not worth my breaking sweat if I can’t get that confirmed.’

‘None of us was there,’ he said at last, in a low nervous voice. ‘Except Myrtle maybe. You can give her one at her place or yours, only she charges extra at her place, for the free drinks.’

‘None of you?’ Crane found it hard to stay calm.

Patsy put down the drinks, placing the change at Crane’s elbow in a neat little pile. ‘Sure you don’t want one yourself, Frank?’

‘Not just now.’

‘If any of this got out …’ Greenwood’s lips trembled.

‘Cliff, you know you can trust me,’ Patsy said. ‘God, with a brother like Marvin never out of bother …’

Eyes flicking from her to Crane, he finally went on.

‘Dougie Mahon … he was working on a big one that night, wasn’t he? He said we didn’t need to be in their house, but if we did go out it hadn’t to be nowhere local, and we had to swear we had been at their place, just chance he ever got his collar felt.’

Crane sank back on the plush banquette. ‘So that’s it. You were really covering Dougie’s backside?’

The other nodded, a look of near-panic in his eyes for what he was forcing himself to admit. ‘Christ, why did she have to go and get herself topped the same night?’

‘So. Bobby couldn’t say he was anywhere else? Even if he hadn’t been with Donna?’

‘It was big, big,’ the other man said, almost in a whisper. ‘Dougie had to have a cast-iron alibi for if anything went wrong. It just meant Bobby had it too. If the two things hadn’t happened together there’d not have been all this bother, would there? Bobby’d be on his own and he’d have to prove where he was.’