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Lenny gave a nod.
“What do you know about that?”
“The night before he was found, the Tuesday? It was just a regular night. Always a little quiet on Tuesdays, but I took him out to do his usual rounds at the clubs.”
“You’d drop him off afterward at his car?” James asked.
“Yeah. He usually parked in the back laneway, but a few times, Mr. Fischer needed to get out and Sam had parked him in, so Devenish told him to park in front of the gallery.” Lenny lifted a shoulder. “I dropped him off at about half three that Wednesday morning. That was early. Too early for Devenish to be there. But some nights, we’d only finish around six or seven the next morning, and Devenish would be waiting for Sam, to divvy up the proceeds, like. Didn’t trust Sam to have them on him any longer than he had to, the greedy bastard.”
And after he’d spent some time counting his money on those mornings, Sam Nealy would come out and have a bit of argy bargy with Gabriella Farnsworth, James guessed.
“And he didn’t seem worried that night? Nothing happened to make him nervous?” Hartridge asked.
“Not that night. It was business as usual. I hang around in the car near the club he’s working, so he can just come out and hop in. Better’n a taxi, in case anything dicey goes down, you know? Sometimes the bouncers don’t like us there, and he’d have to leave quick smart.”
“But you said he’d been warned off. When was that?”
“The Saturday before he was done in. He told Devenish on Sunday and Little Lord Fauntleroy asked if the bloke was in a gang or something, but Sam didn’t know. So Devenish told him to tell the next heavy who harassed him to tell his boss to talk direct to him.”
There was more than a little edge to Lenny and Devenish’s relationship, it seemed. Given James had also found Devenish to be condescending and too posh by half, he could see where Lenny’s resentment was coming from.
“And this was three days before he was found dead?” James tried to remember Devenish’s demeanor that first day he’d been questioned. He’d been jumpy, but otherwise calm.
“Yeah, but we didn’t really put it together. Not right away. There were too many rozzers about, poking your noses in our business, and so we took a break for a couple of days.”
“Then you started up again,” James guessed.
Lenny shrugged. “Saturday’s our busiest night. Patty saw Mr. Fischer driving to the gallery down the back alleyway, and she came out to give Devenish a piece of her mind. She thought Sam was killed because of the drugs, and here we were, still going about business as usual.”
“She knew what you were up to?” James wished she had said something the day he’d interviewed her.
Lenny fidgeted. “She’d seen Sam in the clubs way back when we started selling the stuff, when she was out dancing with her mates, yeah? She recognized him because he’d come down the back lane while she was tidying up after closing the shop. She worked out quick enough he was selling drugs, and that they were being supplied from the gallery. Devenish sent me over to make sure she wouldn’t blab, see?”
“When was this?” James asked.
“Months ago. Months and months.” Lenny’s head came forward, and he rubbed a hand over his forehead. “She was a ripper, Patty. Beautiful. Smart. Had a lot of go, that girl.”
“And now she’s dead.”
Lenny lifted his head, his eyes burning in rage. “No need to remind me, copper. I know.”
“I stood over her body,” James enunciated every word. “I looked at her hands, bitten by rats. I told her parents the bad news while her mother wept and her father paced the floor, not knowing what to do with himself.”
Lenny’s mouth gaped open.
“So don’t make out you’re the victim here. Patty is. And I want to know why, and who did it.”
For the first time, Lenny looked sick. “It was that same bastard what did for Sam. Like I said, Patty saw Fischer driving down the back lane, then saw me bringing in the supplies Fischer needs to make the stuff, and she worked out we were back to selling again. I’d already told her about Sam getting threats, and she worked out I was going to be going out—taking Sam’s place. I knew the clubs he went to. I knew the lay of the land. So she tried to get us to stop. Told us to go to you lot with what we knew. But Devenish . . .” He paused, took a deep breath. “Devenish and me, we persuaded her it would be fine.”
“So why was she killed, and not you?” Hartridge asked.
“I don’t know.” Lenny started crying, great sobs as he bowed his head. “I really don’t know.”
“She was last seen getting into a van outside Dance-A-Go-Go. Did you see her there?” James watched him carefully as he asked the question.
“Yeah, I was there. She told me off.” Lenny’s voice was hoarse with tears. “She told me I was playing with fire, selling in the same club where Sam was threatened.”
“Dance-A-Go-Go was where Sam was warned off?” Well, that was a valuable piece of information.