Sgt Beef - Case Without A Corpse Part 18

Indeed? You are sure it wasn't for you're Rogers?

Not so far as I can remember. I have an ideacan't be sure, mind youthat it was just addressed to 'Mr. Rogers' and nothing more. But that may be my fancy.

You remember delivering it?

Yes. Because I said to Mr. Rogers that you want to be careful of them thin envelopes in case they get lost among the others.

He took it himself.

That's right.

And where had it come from?

Ah. Now you're asking, said Fawcett. I don't know nothing about foreign postage. He implied that he was nothing less than an authority on the home variety. I can only say this came from abroad.

Well, I'm much obliged to you, Fawcett. That's all we shall require.

And Fawcett, though he couldn't afterwards have explained his reason for it, said, Thank you, sir, and left.

Stute was uncharacteristically silent and thoughtful for a moment, then he said, Might be worth following up. Send me that constable with the ridiculous name, Beef.

Galsworthy! Beef shouted without rising from his chair.

Stute winced but turned to the young man. Go round to Mr. Rogers, the bootmaker, and ask him if he remembers a letter arriving by air mail from abroad about a week before his adopted nephew came home. Find out who had written it, and to whom it was addressed, and anything else you can. And by the way, I would like a specimen of young Rogers's handwriting.

Very good, sir.

Once more we were alone.

My recollection of the whole of that day, in fact, is of spending hours in Beef's little office, with Stute receiving reports and sending out enquiries. It was a day for tr.i.m.m.i.n.g the edges of our evidence, and squeezing out the last detail from local informants. Before mid-day the man who had searched the warehouse returned to say that he had found nothing. It was Beef's second constable who had done this job, a rather lanky young man, with a large nose, called Curtis.

There was nothing there, sir, he said quite coolly to Stute, to whom he was making his report, and you can take it that unless anyone had a key and went in from the door that opens on to the street, no one has been there. There was dust and cobwebs round the windows and doors on the river side which hadn't been disturbed for months.

And nothing in the place?

Nothing at all, sir.

Thank you, Curtis.

Stute never showed any sign of disappointment when he drew blank. And he had another disappointment a few minutes later when Galsworthy returned from the bootmaker's.

Well? he snapped at the constable.

I saw Mr. Rogers, sir, began Galsworthy rather breathlessly, and he remembered the letter perfectly. It was to him, he says, and had been sent by young Rogers himself from Rio de Janeiro on the way home.

Did you ask him what it was about?

Yessir. Nothing special, he said. It appears that young Rogers had the habit of sending them an air mail letter now and again when he was out there. Mr. Rogers looked to see if he'd kept it, but he hadn't. He found an old envelope addressed in young Rogers's writing and gave it to me. Here you are, sir.

We examined a dirty envelope. The writing was firm and straight, not altogether the writing of an illiterate man, but not ornate or scholarly.

Very well, constable, said Stute. He still could not bring himself to enunciate the name.

The next person to be shown in brought us more satisfying information. He was the Vicar of Chopley, a boisterous and professedly busy individual, rubicund and noisy.

Ah, Inspector, he shoutedto Stute, and I silently wondered why parsons so frequently opened their sentences with that sound, young Smith, our village policeman at Chopley, suggested that I should give you a call.

His tones rang through the whole police station. I was thankful to see that Stute treated him with no more ceremony than he had shewn to other informants.

Sit down, Vicar, said Stute.

Fact is, I may be able to help you in this tragic business. Or then again my information may be useless. But I was talking to young Smithhe used to be one of my choirboys, you know; smart young fellow, and I hope he gets on. My personal championship of Galsworthy against Smith was instantly strengthened. I was telling him that I was returning from Braxham on Wednesday afternoon in my car. . . .

What time would that have been?

Time? Time? Ha! Ha! You ask me what time! You don't know my reputation, Inspector. Most unpunctual fellow in the world. I'm notorious for it. Time means nothing to me.

Still, about?

Well, it must have been between five and six in the afternoon. I was alone at the time. And I happened to see a motor-bike standing by the roadside.

Facing which way?

Towards me. Towards Braxham.

What make?

Ah! There I can help you. Used to be a great motor-cyclist. Had to give it up now, of course. It was a Rudge-Whitworth. The 500 c.c. Special type. I should say fairly new. Well, I thought, the usual thing. Young people, Inspector, young people! And he gave a laugh which I suppose might be described as hearty, but to me sounded almost macabre.

Did you see anyone?

Indeed I did. A young man and a girl. They were walking away from me across the Common. I couldn't see their faces. But the fellow wore one of those black oilskin outfits complete with leggings. And the girl had a white mackintosh. Of course I drove straight on.

Of course. Stute rose before his visitor. Very much obliged to you, Vicar.

Not at all. Delighted. Wish I could tell you more. Tricky job, yours. Ha! Ha! Got the murderer and can't find the murder! Well I never! Good day, Inspector! And he shouted himself out of the building.

It was then about three o'clock, and Stute elected that we should drive at once to the Common and see how the search party had progressed. The Vicar's statement seemed to be an additional indication that hopes of discovery lay in that area. However noisy and disturbing his personality, his information was very much to the point. There was no mistaking his description of the clothes worn by Rogers and Smythe, and the girl. He had even noticed the make of the motor-bike.

There seemed to me to be a good chance that we might be going straight to a solution. I was glad that Stute drove fast and that Constable Smith of Chopley was awaiting us.

I concentrated the search in the part the Vicar showed me, he said.

Found anything?

Quite a lot, answered Smith, with a self-satisfied smile, and began leading us towards a collection of objects laid out on the gra.s.s.

Stute frowned. What on earth's all this? he asked.