He was aware of only one thing in that final frozen second of life when time seemed to stand still – the muzzle of the gun that was thrust out towards him. Flame exploded in the night and he staggered backwards against the wooden railing of the wharf. He half-turned, clutching at it for support, and as the railing splintered and broke the second bullet caught him in the back and sent him over the edge into an eternal darkness.

21

When Harry Faulkner went into the main C.I.D. office at Police Headquarters it was exactly four-fifteen. The first person he saw was Chuck Lazer, who sat at a vacant desk playing Patience, a mug of tea beside him.

‘What in the hell are you doing here?’ Faulkner demanded in bewilderment.

‘I’m what they call an aide to the C.I.D.,’ Lazer said. ‘Fascinating work, but the pay stinks.’

The door to Grant’s office opened and a young constable came out. ‘In here, Mr Faulkner. Superintendent Grant would like a few words with you.’

Grant was sitting at his desk in his overcoat. Sweat glistened on his forehead and he wiped it away with his sleeve, took a strip of Aspro from his pocket and popped two into his mouth. He swallowed some tea from the pint pot at his elbow and made a face.

‘Fill it up with something drinkable, there’s a good lad.’

The constable took the pot and retired and Faulkner sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk, a frown on his face.

‘And what’s all this about then?’

‘We’ve arrested Fred Manton,’ Grant said, applying a match to his pipe. ‘I thought you’d like to know, you being his employer and so on.’

Faulkner was too old a bird to be drawn. He took a cigarette from his case and lit it with a brass lighter. ‘What’s the charge?’

‘At the moment I’d say attempted murder of a police officer.’

Faulkner’s face went grey. ‘You know what you’re doing?’

‘Too bloody right I do,’ Grant said. ‘If you’re interested, he was going to do a bunk with all the ready cash he could lay his hands on. Your money, of course.’

‘The bastard,’ Faulkner said. ‘After all I’ve done for him.’

‘I’m sending a couple of officers to the Flamingo now,’ Grant said. ‘They’ll have a warrant empowering them to make a thorough search of Manton’s office and apartment. I think you should be there as owner, just to confirm that everything’s in order. I’d particularly like to see an inventory of the contents of the safe.’

‘Anything to help,’ Faulkner said calmly. ‘You know me.’

‘Somehow that’s what I thought you’d say. You’ll find Detective Constable Carter and a uniformed officer waiting for you downstairs.’