The Deadly Affair Page #4

snivelling about my own personal life

instead of attending to my professional.

Well, I want to settle this squalid little mess

with the department once and for all

to my own satisfaction,

and not to the satisfaction

of a bunch of selfish,

sanctimonious, bureaucratic nits!

There's been an injustice done

and I hate that!

And it'll give me something different

to think about.

- Different?

- Yes!

- Until you and Dieter...

- Haven't I done you an injustice?

Why don't you settle

our own squalid little mess

by telling me I'm a nymphomaniac slut!

Kick me out,

and let me do what I'm going to do,

but without the feeling

that I'm crucifying a saint!

How can you be so bloody aggressive

about your job

and so gentle about me?

I've always thought that

being aggressive

was the way to keep my job

and being gentle was the way to keep you.

Well, I've lost my job, haven't I?

Mendel?

Mendel.

Trouble.

No, it's these ants.

I was awake half the night

trying to find out when they go to sleep.

Here, I'll let you in.

- Come on in.

- I hope I'm not being a nuisance.

No, I was flattered you phoned.

Let's have your coat and hat.

I made up a bed for you.

It's not exactly what you're used to,

but it's quiet.

Come on in.

Oh, God.

- A bit niffy, is it?

- Rather.

Well, it is a bit of a menagerie, isn't it?

Oh, I like these.

Yeah, I prefer the odd ones.

Exotics, they're called.

- Did you say trouble?

- Yes.

I was followed, second time today.

Big fair-haired chap

in a ramshackle MG saloon.

I threw him off near Putney Hill.

I got the number of the car though. XEL 390.

He's been booked twice for tax evasion,

once for receiving

and selling a car known to be stolen,

four times drunk and disorderly,

and once for blackmailing a queer.

He's my type, so leave him to me.

Have you got 10 quid?

Scarr!

Scarr!

Well, he's got to be here.

Here we are.

Scarr!

- Hello, dear. Who are you?

- Eunice.

- Eunice? Eunice who?

- Eunice Scarr.

- Is your dad in?

- No.

- Your mum then?

- Which one?

- How many have you then, dear?

- Two.

- Where are they?

- In the pub with me dad.

I see. Thank you, dear.

That's funny. I smell copper.

- Adam Scarr?

- That's correct, friend.

Would you care to join me and my colleague

for a drink at the other end of the bar?

It won't take a minute.

- What'll you have?

- A large whisky, Wilf.

I see the ladies' glasses is empty, you know.

- Gin and hot.

- A lager and lime.

- Okay, guv'nor.

- Right.

We've got the constabulary

on the premises, Wilf.

I always did say

you were good for business, Mr Scarr.

They come bloody miles to see you.

Well, I think you're better out of this.

Wait for me in the car, will you?

Sit down.

Your health, friend.

If you are a friend.

XEL 390. That your car?

Well?

Well, in a manner of speaking, squire,

in a manner of speaking.

What the hell do you mean,

"In a manner of speaking"?

- It's on hire.

- To whom?

Times is hard, squire.

- The cost of living, rising stock.

- Five.

- Fifteen.

- Ten.

Done.

Well, three weeks ago,

gent comes into the garage.

A small Scotsman he was. Good shoes.

Posh umbrella

with a little brass band around it.

He paid the deposit, took the car,

I've never seen him nor the car again.

Daylight robbery, isn't it?

When you hired the car to this Scotsman,

he filled in forms, didn't he?

Insurance, name and address, so on?

False, all false, skipper.

He gave an address in Ealing,

which didn't exist,

and a name,

with which I doubt he was baptized,

McTavish, Andrew McTavish.

Now, you've a record

as long as the Old Kent Road is, Scarr,

and I know where to find you.

So if you've told me a pack of lies

I'll break your bloody neck.

Who the hell are you?

Hey, you! Come back here!

Name's Dobbs, Charles Dobbs.

Broken right hand

and contusions on the neck.

- Look after him, he's important.

- Right.

I'll be in with the details.

Just now, I got business.

Don't you just stand there.

Scarr! Come outside!

Now look, guv'nor...

Come on, move along. Pick it up.

Nothing to see. Come on.

Recognise anything? Stolen, was it?

By a small Scotsman with good shoes

and a posh umbrella?

Decent of him to bring it back, wasn't it?

Friendly gesture after all this time.

You've mistaken your bloody market, Scarr.

So, the Scotsman called himself Blondie,

did he?

- What's your problem, skipper?

- Not my problem, Scarr. It's yours.

The biggest bloody problem

you've ever had.

Contravention of the Road Traffic Act.

Conspiracy to defraud the Inland Revenue.

Offences under the Official Secrets Act.

Conspiracy to murder, accessory to murder!

Don't go over the bloody moon.

Who the hell's talking about murder?

I am, Scarr, I am.

You heard that ambulance just now.

There's a man dying in it,

murdered by your Blondie.

There's another one dead in Surrey,

and for all I know,

there's one in every bloody Home County

and you're the poor bastard

that knows what this Blondie looks like.

He might want to put that right, mightn't he?

Not so bloody loud.

Look, I'm in a nice way of business

round here.

The pickings is small, but regular.

- At least it were till this bloke come along.

- What bloke?

Oh, bit by bit, copper! Don't rush me.

Six months ago he come into the garage.

Dutch, he said he was, and in business.

If he was Dutch, I'm a bloody Dutchman.

Look, I'm not pretending

I thought his business was straight,

'cause you're not barmy, nor am I.

He was cool, cool as charity.

"Scarr," he says, "I don't like publicity.

"I want a car, not to buy, but to borrow."

Those weren't his exact words,

'cause he was foreign.

- I'm giving you the gist of it, you know.

- Go on giving me the gist of it.

Look, I owed the bookies 40 quid.

The coppers were a bit sensitive

about a car I bought on the never-and-never,

and flogged over in Clapham.

And there was Blondie standing over me

like me own conscious,

rifling a wad of notes

as thick as a pack of cards in me ear hole.

"Well, what's your proposition?" I says.

"I'm shy," he says.

"I wanna car that nobody'll notice,

with something fast under the bonnet.

"Keep it teed up for me

every first and third Tuesday of the month."

He give me 500 quid to buy the car,

for the first month's garaging,

and he says, "There'll be a bonus

for every extra day I take it out."

How was he to let you know

about the extra day?

Well, there wasn't none, till today.

Then he didn't let me know.

- He just didn't bring it back last night.

- Last night?

- Tuesday?

- I told you! The first Tuesday of the month.

Didn't bring it back till today.

What was to happen

if anything went wrong?

If you got pinched for bigamy,

or something?

I had a phone number.

Primrose 0042.

- Did you ever phone?

- Nothing ever went wrong, did it?

Has now, though, hasn't it? Eh?

I think that's my money, isn't it?

You stay put, Scarr.

I'll be back sooner than you think.

Why, you can count on me, skipper.

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