Gently Floating by Alan Hunter

searched the yard for him. What made you do that?’
    ‘Oh,’ Archer said. His eyes met Gently’s again. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I got a feeling something was wrong. The way the office door wasn’t locked. That wasn’t like Harry. And he was human, he’d been fretting, ever since his missus died. Sometimes I was even sorry for him. I got a feeling, that’s all.’
    ‘How hard did those contracts hit him?’
    ‘He wasn’t ruined,’ Archer said. ‘Nothing like that. The trouble was inside. A bottle or a woman might have fixed him.’
    His eyes went past Gently to the window, the window where the blind wasn’t drawn. Gently turned his head. A man stood squinting at the window. The man was humpty and wore dungarees. Archer half rose.
    ‘That’s Sid,’ he said. ‘He’s got a new job. He’ll be wanting instructions.’
    ‘Sid Lidney?’ Gently said.
    ‘Yes, the one with the wife,’ Archer said. ‘I’ve made him in charge of boat’s furniture.’
    Gently looked at Lidney. Lidney turned away. Archer frowned.
    ‘I’d better talk to young French,’ Gently said. ‘Is he at the yard today?’
    ‘I’ll have him fetched,’ Archer said.
    Gently said: ‘Don’t bother. I’ll find him.’
    Thus: Gently searched for John French in the dry boathouses and the wet boathouses; in the building shops, in the engineering shops, in the smith’s shop, in the joiner’s shop; in the rigger’s shop, in the varnishing shop, in the boat’s furniture and a number of other shops; in the timber store, in the paint store, in the fittings store and in the sail loft; in all which he took great interest, but in none of which he found John French. As he was leaving the reception office, where John French also was not, a Wolseley drove on to the cindered parking area and Parfitt got out.
    ‘Morning sir,’ Parfitt said.
    ‘Morning,’ Gently said. ‘Drop the sir.’
    ‘I’ve been talking to the River Police,’ Parfitt said. ‘I got on to them last night like you told me. They’ve turned up some witnesses at Harning, the people on
Vestella 7.
Name Clifford, come from Coventry, two couples and a kid.’
    ‘What did they see?’ Gently said.
    ‘They saw Harry French,’ Parfitt said. ‘Anyway, they saw the launch leave and head upstream. They couldn’t see who was in it, of course. They were moored opposite, further down, on a bit of soft rond round the corner. They’d been to the fair. They were just walking back. They’d let the kid stop at the fair till ten p.m. They’d been up Hickstead way all the weekend and had just come down on the Tuesday. Hard evidence. It all clicks.’
    ‘Coming to the evidence,’ Gently said.
    ‘Yes,’ Parfitt said, ‘all five of them saw it. The old boy Clifford is a regular Broadsgoer and hot about the rules of navigation. So he sees this launch without any lights creeping away from French’s quay, and he has a bind about it to the others, and they all take notice. A varnished or dark-painted launch around eighteen feet long. No lights. Just the driver. Going up very quietly through the bridge. The River Police have taken the statements. The Cliffords are handing over tomorrow. They’re making their way back to Hofton; we can pick them up with a launch if you like.’
    ‘Have you brought the statements?’ Gently said.
    ‘They’re coming,’ Parfitt said. ‘I had the info on the phone. The patrol rang us from Harning.’
    ‘I’ll see the statements,’ Gently said. ‘Doesn’t sound as though much can be added to them. But they’re a break all right. We’re beginning to know where we are.’
    ‘Me, I was out of my depth,’ Parfitt said. ‘That’s about where I was. And the body found up there too, as though the facts weren’t clear enough.’
    ‘In Speltons’ slipway,’ Gently said. ‘When the bank up that way is fretted with cuttings.’
    Parfitt looked at him. ‘Christ, yes,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what I’ve been using for brains. All those