Come Clean (1989) by Bill James Page B

this bit of coast has a kind of beauty, you know. I’ve always thought so.’ Nimbly, he climbed on to the top of the
pill box and gazed out towards the horizon, one hand shading his eyes. ‘Remember that poem from school, Col, about stout Cortez, happening on the Pacific and gazing at it eagle-like from a
peak in Darien?’
    ‘Yes, you are getting a bit of a gut. Eagle? The mittens are not right.’
    ‘All his men in a wild surmise, a really wild surmise. Understandable. You don’t find a Pacific every day.’ He climbed down. ‘This information begins, I gather, with an
old lady, sleepless, who looked out of her window late the other night and saw some sort of very serious chase in the street, a young man in what she called “a good serge suit” running
from three or maybe four older men, one wearing a leather jacket, one with thinning grey hair. A car was trying to hold the young bloke in its headlights. She doesn’t know cars but she said a
big old black thing. A couple of the men on foot caught him and started giving real treatment, she thought maybe even a knife, but he broke away and ran again, over towards Shield Terrace, where
the Monty is. He looked hurt at this stage, maybe limping and bleeding, the suit stained. They went out of sight then, and that’s as much as she knows. Col, it’s possible nobody’s
going to find this lad in time for him to say anything. But worth a try.’
    ‘So what tells you this is your boy?’
    ‘Not all that much, I’ve got to admit it. Just, he’s not about and it’s the right age and build, and the smart suit. On top, one of Benny’s other lads, a part-timer
called Steve Stevens, uses a black Humber Hawk, it’s his trademark.’
    ‘A woman sees a knifing and does nothing, asks for no help?’
    ‘I don’t think she’s sure, Col. And, besides, they hate getting into anything, don’t they? So scared of being called as witnesses, and having threatening visits in their
prized, door-chained little nests from God knows who, to shut them up.’
    ‘Christ, we can look after people, people who give us information.’
    They began walking towards their car. Lamb said: ‘I’d be the first to confirm it, you know that. Could I be better looked after? But these people, especially if they’re old,
Col, they don’t seem so sure. What they want is to stay untroubled, and they get very tenacious of life. Although most admire the police, they aren’t convinced you can really protect
them. Well, they read the papers, I suppose. Their bones are delicate and they have nasty foot problems, so if things did get perilous they can’t make a dash. Their answer is to stay under
cover. The old really love life but they can’t risk seeing much of it, one of those touching paradoxes. I’ve only heard this myself because she told a neighbour and the neighbour spoke
to an acquaintance of mine. Well, you know how information comes. Roundabout, not by the Post Office.’
    ‘Any pictures of this lad, Justin?’
    ‘I’m trying.’ He paused. ‘Tell me, Col, do you and yours keep an eye at the Monty?’
    ‘Off and on.’
    Lamb went silent again. Harpur said: ‘You’re bothered about Sarah Iles? Yes, I know she shows up there sometimes, poor lost kid.’
    ‘Is that what she is?’
    ‘Along those lines.’
    ‘I can see it makes things sensitive.’
    ‘I know about her and so do some others. But not Iles himself. At least, I don’t think so. Who’s sure what that bugger knows? Was she in the club when this happened?’
    ‘I don’t know. And I told you, I can’t say whether the chase actually got into the Monty. I believe lover boy, Ian Aston, was there. Believe. That wouldn’t signify,
anyway. He’s in the club most nights. As far as I can make out, she just rolls up there to see him when she can.’
    ‘Yes, I think that’s the arrangement.’
    ‘Is she –?’
    ‘It’s sad, but things aren’t right at home. Haven’t been for a long while. You know the sort