Sgt Beef - Case Without A Corpse Part 10

Mrs. Murdoch answered with dignity. Mrs. Fairfax did not fish, she said.

Sergeant Beef looked up from his notebook. And there isn't nothink else as you could tell me?

Mrs. Murdoch coughed. I have Mr. Fairfax's London address, she said.

That might come in useful, said Beef. I'll note it down. And with great care he did so.

That appeared to be all the information that Beef wanted or could get from Mrs. Murdoch.

I tell you wot though, he said, I should like a word wiv the girl wot giv' 'em their dinner yesterday. She might 'ave 'eard somethink.

The waiter who served Mr. Fairfax at lunch yesterday can come and speak to you, said Mrs. Murdoch. But the servants are not encouraged to listen to private conversation among the guests. And now I will ask you to excuse me. I trust that the name of the Riverside Private Hotel will be used as little as possible in connection with this unpleasant case.

The way in which she enunciated the word unpleasant suggested that Beef himself was involved in the general nausea of the business.

That's not for me to say, Ma'am. You better get on to the newspapers about that. They'd say any think.

Mrs. Murdoch rose. It's all very unsavoury, she said. I'll send the waiter to you. Good evening. She marched from the room resolutely.

Beef blew violently through his lips, so that, his moustache wavered outwards. 'Ow 'ud you like to work for 'er? he whispered. An' she never suggested us 'aving a drop of nothink, either. Still that's interesting wot she said about young Rogers being 'ere with that Fairfax, isn't it?

The waiter, an elderly man correctly dressed, came in.

Did you give Mr. Fairfax 'is ... lunch yesterday? asked Beef.

Yes. I served the gentlemen.

Didn't 'ear nothink did you?

I don't quite understand, said the waiter haughtily.

All right, my lad, said Beef. The old girl's not 'ere now. You needn't be up in the air. Wot was they talking about?

I never listen. ...

Come off of it. Come off of it. Wot did they say?

I did happen to gather that the gist of their talk referred to the younger gentleman's occupation Mr. Fairfax was emphatic in his advice to him to leave the sea, and settle down ash.o.r.e.

Is that all?

That is all I heard.

Was they talking secret at all?

Oh no. Quite openly.

Didn't say nothink about that afternoon?

I heard nothing beyond what I've told you.

All right. That'll do.

Out in the damp evening, Beef pondered. Funny, 'is not 'aving told 'is uncle and aunt 'e was going to 'ave dinner wiv Fairfax.

Unless it was because old Rogers didn't like Fairfax, you remember what Mrs. Rogers said.

Yes. So she did, said Beef.

CHAPTER VIII.

I WAS determined not to be left out of the case now, even if Detective-Inspector Stute was going to take it up. So that next morning I went round to the police station, asked for the Sergeant, and was shewn in to the office in which he and Stute were already in conference.

There was, of course, no reason why I should be admitted, but my reading of detective novels, which had been considerable, had taught me that an outsider, with no particular excuse, was often welcomed on these occasions, especially if he had the gift of native fatuity, and could ask ludicrous questions at the right moment, so I hoped for the best. Beef introduced me without explanation, Stute nodded amicably and indicated a chair, and I was at home. That, I thought, is one good thing that writers of detective novels have donetaught Scotland Yard to admit miscellaneous, strangers to their, most secret conclaves.

Stute was a well-dressed man in his fifties, with thick grey hair, a young man's complexion, and a neat military moustache. He might have been, and probably was, an ex-officer. He might have been, but probably wasn't, a graduate of Oxford or Cambridge. He was listening to Beef with close attention, and the Sergeant was evidently finishing his recital.

So that's as far's I've got, sir, he said. I'm very glad you've come. Course, you'll soon clear it all up, but I could see from the beginning it was too much for me.

It didn't sound too much, Sergeant, said Stute. We thought the body would turn up at once. But there you are. We must get down to it.

He leant back in his chair, offered us cigarettes, drew slowly at one himself, then said, It seems pretty certain that the murder was committed between 2.15 when Fairfax and Young Rogers left the Mitre and 8.0 when he reached his home.

Beef said nothing. He evidently thought his best policy was to leave all speculation and summary to Stute.

Then again, so far as the information you have brought to light goes, there are three possibilities in the matter of who has been murderedFairfax, the girl Smythe, and the foreigner who came into the Mitre, unless, of course, this foreigner is to be identified with the one Mr. Townsend saw later. Probably as soon as we start making enquiries, we shall find two of them alive and well, and have a pretty good idea that it was the third. Get me the Yard on the 'phone, and I'll have the Fairfaxes traced right away. We shall have to get a little more information about the other two first.

Beef went to the door. Galsworthy ... he began.

What did you say? asked Stute.

I was speaking to the constable, sir.

You don't mean to say you have a constable called Galsworthy, Sergeant?

Yes, sir.

My'G.o.d! All right. Goon.

Galsworthy, said the Sergeant again, as though there had been no interruption, get Scotland Yard on the 'phone.

What we want here, said Stute, when Beef was sitting before him again, is system. First the dead man. Had the bloodstains examined?

No, sir.

Contents of the bottle a.n.a.lysed?

No, sir.