Blood Brothers by Patricia Hall Page B

about him. He’s trouble. Does Copeland know for sure me and Reg have had words?’
    ‘Not as far as I know,’ Barnard said. ‘That’s what he’ll be wanting to know.’
    ‘Right,’ Robertson said.
    ‘But what I want to know is whether you’ve heard any whispers about the digitless victim, who he is or why he might have been killed,’ Barnard asked.
    ‘None at all, Flash,’ Robertson said. ‘Not a dicky bird. You know I don’t go in for that sort of thing. Not my scene. The Maltese can be vicious and so can Smith, but I’ve not heard so much as a whisper and I’ll tell your mate Copeland that, don’t you worry. What’s your own take on it? You don’t sound as if you go along with his theory.’
    Barnard hesitated for a moment before he went on. He knew that his own suspicions as to the identity of the murder victim would concern Robertson far more than anything else and not for the reasons that Copeland might suspect. ‘I saw the body,’ he said. ‘He was difficult to identify even after he’d been cleaned up a bit at the morgue. But he had a look of the old tramp who’s a witness in Georgie’s case. A crucial witness, as it goes.’
    ‘You think someone’s got to him and topped him?’ Robertson asked, his face flushing a dangerous shade of pink.
    ‘I can’t get anyone to admit that any witness has gone AWOL, but if one has, there are people at the Yard who will put you top of the list of suspects. They’ve never really swallowed the idea that you were the main man when it came to wanting Georgie put away. They’re convinced blood must be thicker than water.’
    ‘So’s my old ma,’ Robertson said with feeling. ‘But they don’t realize what a psycho Georgie’s become the last few years. I couldn’t trust him an inch any more. You know he’s always been a nutcase ever since he was a boy.’
    ‘The cats,’ Barnard said, thoughtfully.
    ‘The cats,’ Robertson agreed.
    ‘You need to make all this pretty clear to Copeland when we come calling, as well as the fact that whoever the victim was he wasn’t one of your associates. We need to cover both possibilities. But if I’m right – and no one believes me so far – who would have a reason for interfering with Georgie’s trial? The only person I can think of is your ma.’
    Robertson snorted in disbelief. ‘She still thinks the sun shines out of Georgie’s bum, and I should be busting a gut to get him off,’ he said. ‘But she’s an old woman now, Flash. There’s no way she could be interfering with witnesses. Most of her and my dad’s old mates are dead now, long gone. Who would she get to help her?’
    ‘God knows,’ Barnard said. ‘I don’t like any of this, believe me. Just thought I’d fill you in. Just in case. You know as well as I do that if I’m right there’ll be more than one witness ready to drop out – even if no one comes calling to help them on their way. They’ll be scared witless.’
    ‘And I’m grateful, mate,’ Robertson said, getting to his feet. ‘But I think it’s your imagination running away with you. And there’s no reason I need to start cutting off fingers and toes for any other reason, though I can’t speak for the Maltese or Reg Smith. Copeland may be right to think about them. Let’s take it as it comes, shall we? But if you do find anything to prove someone’s trying to mess with my brother’s trial, let me know. That I can seriously do without.’
    When Kate O’Donnell got to the picture agency next morning she found to her surprise that Carter Price was already ensconced with Ken Fellows in his office, the air thick with cigarette smoke which caught her breath when she opened the door on hearing her name hailed in raucous tones.
    ‘You called?’ she said, although she knew both men were impervious to her sarcasm, although she heard a chuckle from one of her colleagues in the busy photographers’ room behind her.
    ‘Come in, Kate, and shut the door,’ Fellows said.