Dear Diary
Why can't people live and let live?
I went dancing with Charlie Freeman, I knew his brother, Vic, long ago, during the war. Vic didn't come home. Charlie had a plane to sell, he seemed in a hurry to do so so I imagined that he needed the money, nevertheless I fancied owning a plane, keep my flying skills up.
While we were at the Green Mill Charlie, who seemed oblivious to my charms, was dragged off by a young chap in glasses, I danced with the band leader, Tintagel Stone; I wasn't sure what to make of Stone, he was a lazy dancer but he had a good band. While we were dancing a man was killed. Not a nice man apparently, Leonard Stevens, and the world will not miss him.
You see, diary, this is what I mean about letting people live their own lives, as long as they are not hurting anyone else. Stevens was a serial blackmailer: he was blackmailing Charlie – hence his need for money – he had taken photos of Charlie and his bespectacled friend Bobby in bed together, he was blackmailing Charlie's mother Adele to keep the whereabouts of Vic secret – he had come home from the war, shell-shocked and living in the wilds alone – and the band's singer, Nerine, because she hadn't obtained a divorce from her first husband before marrying the band's trumpet player. Add to that Stevens had called off his wedding to a flower seller days after the banns were posted – he was the architect of his own misfortune.
Of course Inspector Robinson investigated, he had poor sweet Hugh search all the women at the club the dear boy was blushing to the tips of his ears. Nerine's husband, was the one who killed Stevens, he thought Nerine was having an affair with him so he fashioned his own instrument of death, a hole in the mute of his horn through which he blew a dart. Ingenious – but sad.
In amongst this Dot was waiting for Hugh to ask her to the Fire and Policeman's Ball but the poor boy is always so tongue-tied. In the end, she had to ask him, and he even stuttered through that because being the traditional soul he is he felt he should ask her – though I believe he faltered because he is Protestant and Dot is Catholic – though what blasted difference that makes I don't know.
She looked lovely when he came to pick her up, she had made her own dress and with a touch of red lipstick she was perfect – Hugh was speechless; I however had a call to attend City South Station – Jack passed me the plates for the photos of Charlie and Bobby and told me that though his hands were tied, mine weren't and I could have them destroyed – he's deep, is Inspector Robinson, and he sees more than the law as written.
I had the opportunity to meet up with Vic; Charlie and I flew in the plane he was trying to sell (I bought it) to where he was living. Vic has burns scarring but it doesn't take away the man, and it isn't as bad as he thinks. He was always a good looking man, and still is, strong but what he and many others went through will bring even the strongest to his knees. He wasn't angry with Charlie for being homosexual, he loves his brother and even though Charlie could have stayed with him in the outback, he wouldn't leave Bobby to face the charges on his own, we stayed overnight and flew back the next morning.
Stevens was a low, grasping excuse for a human being. Jack Robinson, even with his hands tied by law, rises above it, shows more humanity – this case made me feel lucky to know him and call him friend and colleague.