Free 1951 - But a Short Time to Live by James Hadley Chase

chair.
    "Jeepers, kid," Mooney said, going to him. "How are you? What did they do to you?"
    Harry gave him a wan grin. There was a broad strip of sticking plaster across his forehead, and he looked shaky and white.
    "It's all right, Mr. Mooney. It's not half as bad as these chaps are trying to make out."
    One of the plain-clothes officers, a fat, good-natured looking man in a shapeless tweed suit came over.
    "He said he wanted you so we sent a constable round for you," he said to Mooney. "He's had a nasty crack on the head. By rights he should be in hospital." He looked at Harry and frowned at him.
    "You can thank your stars you have a head like a flint stone, my lad," he went on. "Otherwise there'd have been a lot more damage."
    Harry touched his forehead and winced.
    "There's been quite enough damage already, thank you," he said. "If it's all the same to you I'd like to go home now."
    "We'll run you home in a few minutes," the plain-clothes officer said. There's a cup of tea coming. You don't want to be in too much of a hurry." He turned to Mooney. "I'm Inspector Parkins. Sergeant Dawson, over there," he waved to the other officer. "Sit down, Mr. Mooney. You don't look over grand yourself."
    Mooney sat down, and because he suddenly found himself momentarily the centre of interest, he passed a hand wearily across his face and endeavoured to look on the point of collapse.
    "As a matter of fact, I feel pretty bad," he said. "It's been a great shock. I don't suppose you have a little brandy?"
    Parkins smiled.
    "I might find you some whisky, unless you'd rather have a cup of tea," and seeing Mooney's expression, he laughed and produced a bottle of Scotch from a cupboard. "Always handy in case of illness," he said and winked. He gave Mooney a good stiff drink. "There you are, Mr. Mooney. That'll set you up."
    Mooney took the drink gratefully. And to think he had always sneered at the police! He'd never do that again. "Damned good chaps," he thought, and drank half the whisky at a gulp.
    "That's a lot better," he said. "I wanted that badly."
    Just then a constable brought in three huge mugs of tea, and put them on the table.
    "Now you get outside this, my lad, and you'll be right as ninepence," Parkins said, putting a mug within Harry's reach. "Have a cigarette if you fancy it."
    Harry accepted the cigarette, and although his head ached, he enjoyed the novelty of being entertained by a police inspector.
    “Harry," Mooney said, "did you lose the camera?"
    "No, I've still got it, but I lost the roll of film."
    Mooney heaved a sigh of relief.
    "That doesn't matter. It was the camera I was worrying about."
    "All right, Mr. Mooney," Parkins said. "I just want a word with our young friend, then he can get off home. Mr. Ricks," he went on to Harry, "if you feel like it, perhaps you'll try to help us. This fella who hit you. You say he was short, thickset and had a mop of tow-coloured hair. You didn't see his face. Is that right?"
    "That's right," Harry said, sipping his tea.
    "Can you give us any more details. How was he dressed?"
    "Well, I couldn't see much. It was too dark. He seemed to be in a dark suit, and he wore a dark blue or black shirt. Oh, yes, I remember now, he had a sort of lisp when he spoke, and he talked through his nose."
    Parkins looked at Dawson who shook his head.
    "Well, he's a new one to us, but we're anxious to catch him," Parkins said, turning back to Harry.
    "He's been doing quite a lot of bashing lately. He uses a bicycle chain. When you get that plaster off you'll see the marks. We've had three or four people in here recently with the same marks on their faces. In their case it's been robbery, but somehow I don't think it was robbery in your case. I think you took his photograph, probably without knowing it, and he knocked you out to get the film."
    "Oh, no," Harry said. "I'm positive I didn't take his photograph. That mop of hair is unmistakable. I never saw him all the evening until he attacked me."
    Parkins