Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [91]
Hours later, Hutch and the reporter were still sitting on an uncomfortable bench in a corridor at Stambleton police station. Hutch was worrying about Johnny. What if he got back to discover the door bashed down and the shop ransacked? He wanted to tell a policeman about Johnny, but he didn’t want the reporter to hear, even though they had long since patched up their quarrel. In any case, the desk sergeant was busy with something else. The phone was ringing well after midnight. A couple of drunks were taken out of the cells and allowed to go home. Plain-clothes detectives arrived, including Inspector Griffin. Hutch recognized him from Winnie’s court hearing. He knew Griffin was a very important policeman. He hoped he hadn’t been called in to deal with the fight in the shop. A criminal conviction could mean the end of Hutch’s Post Office career.
At one a.m. there was a shout of ‘They’re here!’ and all the staff who were on duty gathered by the door.
‘They made good time,’ said a constable.
‘Well, they had a fast car,’ said another. ‘Kindly supplied by one of the prisoners.’ Everybody laughed.
The reporter sensed that he might be missing a story, and tried to join the crowd of policemen. He was manhandled back to his place. A few minutes later, a strange procession of tired, deflated people passed by the bench he shared with Hutch. First came Mrs Langford, handcuffed to a stocky policeman wearing an unfamiliar uniform. She was stooping, and looked ten years older than she had before her husband was killed. Behind her was a young man in a white lab coat with his hands chained together. Even so, he managed to raise them to his mouth to nibble his nails. He was followed by another officer, manacled to a well-dressed man who was trying to shield his face with his hat. The reporter had to be forced back to his seat again when he saw that it was Frederick Bennett. At the end of the line – the only one who was smiling – was Johnny Swanson. The grumpy desk officer had shown no reservations about letting him into the building this time.
Johnny ran over to Hutch, babbling on about Mrs Langford being the murderer, and how his mother would have to be freed.
‘Thank you so much for coming, Hutch. I’m sorry they’ve kept you up so late. It was a long drive.’ Johnny couldn’t disguise how much he had enjoyed his trip in Mr Bennett’s grand car, even if the policeman who’d driven it had sometimes shown a dizzying unfamiliarity with the controls.
Hutch was embarrassed. He came clean. ‘The fact is, Johnny old chap, I didn’t know you were on your way. I got here under my own steam, you might say.’
Johnny didn’t understand. But he did notice that Hutch and the reporter were both covered in a dusting of flour, with patches of unidentified foodstuffs sprayed across their dishevelled clothes.
Hutch began an explanation. ‘This gentleman and I had a bit of a …’
‘A bit of an altercation, you might say,’ said the reporter.
‘About what?’ asked Johnny.
Neither of them wanted to admit that it had been, at least in part, about Johnny and his mother.
‘Good question,’ said the reporter. ‘I really can’t remember.’
Inspector Griffin approached them. ‘Mr Hutchinson, I believe,’ he said, holding out his hand.
‘I must apologize for my behaviour,’ said Hutch, assuming that Griffin had come to question him about the fight at the shop.
‘Never mind that,’ said Griffin. ‘It was your own property you damaged, and if this gentleman is prepared to let the matter drop, I think we can forget the whole episode. The person I’m most eager to talk to is this young chap.’ He tousled Johnny’s bouncy curls. ‘Mr Hutchinson, would you care to sit in? I understand that you’ve been looking after Johnny while his mother’s been … away.’
‘Of course,’ said Hutch, and he accompanied Johnny into the interview room, where the three of them sat down at a small bare table. Inspector Griffin took notes as Johnny explained what had happened in Wales, summed up the vaccine plot, and described how Dr Langford had died.
Inspector Griffin scratched his head. ‘Thank you, Johnny,