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Authors: George Bellairs

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BOOK: Death Before Breakfast
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‘What is it?'

‘We'd like to speak to you.'

‘Won't it do to-morrow?'

‘I'm afraid not, Mr. Peeples.'

‘Who are these men, anyhow?'

His father-in-law thought Mr. Peeples needed support and he was ready to give it. The door at the end of the lobby opened again to reveal two women, one young and thin; the other ageing and fat. Peeples' wife and his ma-in-law. The elder of the two gave tongue.

‘Wot is it, Lionel?'

Peeples by now looked ready to collapse.'

We'd like a private word with you, Mr. Peeples. Is there anywhere. …?'

‘Is that all right by you, Lionel?'

His father-in-law was only a little man, but he'd obviously plenty of guts. He looked ready to mop the floor with the intruders if called upon.

‘Yes, dad. Mind if we use the parlour? It's all right. I know them both.'

Eventually they got Peeples to himself, looking a bit better, sitting on the antiquated couch of the parlour, as they called it, ready for the worst.

The room was a family portrait-gallery. Soldiers, sailors, policeman, Wrafs, Wrens, nurses. The Moffats looked to have a private army of their own. They had nine children and Mrs. Peeples was the youngest. Peeples' picture was among the rest. On his wedding-day with his pot-hat. There was an old piano in the room, too. Mr. Peeples had been playing it earlier that evening. In his younger days, he'd been a pianist at a picture-palace. Those days were long gone. Now, he looked like a corpse.

‘What do you want to come here for? I haven't done anything wrong. It's not fair to show me up in front of my wife's family. They'll take it bad.'

He looked round at all the photographs, like a guilty man counting the firing-squad.

‘You're a bit of wretch, aren't you, Mr. Peeples? You deceived Sergeant Cromwell into thinking your children had whooping-cough, when all the time they were here, as healthy as a couple of kittens. Why did you do that?'

Peeples didn't know what to say. In his misery, his memory and speech seemed to have deserted him.

‘Shall I tell you? Someone wanted to use your house for a particular purpose and wanted your wife and family out of the way, didn't he? He'd a very sick man on his hands and didn't know where to put him. So, he chose your place.'

‘I was only doin' him a favour. No harm in that, is there?'

‘No. And I guess he paid you well.'

‘He made it worth my while. I'd to get my wife and kids away at nearly a minute's notice.'

‘What did your wife say?'

‘She didn't mind much. We'd promised my mother-in-law we'd come in the summer, but money was scarce. It was just the chance we wanted. The missus didn't need much persuadin'. Specially as the money came in useful.'

‘But why all the paraphernalia about whooping-cough?'

‘They're such a nosey crowd in July Street. They'd have wanted to know why the wife and kids had gone so suddenlike and the women around would have started, as they usually do, wantin' to do the house for me and bring in food.'

‘Decent of them. Very neighbourly. And you couldn't afford to have anybody with the run of the house, when you'd got a wanted criminal, wounded, in the bed upstairs. …'

Mr. Peeples looked miserable.

‘It was an act of charity. You can't deny that. I didn't know he was a wanted man. Until I saw it in the papers,
I thought I was just givin' hospitality to a friend of the doctor's who'd been injured in a street fight. That's what they told me.'

‘Doctor Macready?'

‘Yes. He called after dark on Monday night. He said he'd got a wounded man who'd been picked up and carried into Barnes's garage and would I take him in, until he was well enough to be moved elsewhere. I said, what about a hospital? He went away, then, and came back with Sammy Barnes. Sammy's my landlord and I work for him. He said I'd better do as I was told and not ask questions. What could I do?'

‘And you were forced to do as they told you and bundle out your wife and family at a moment's notice?'

‘As I said, my wife didn't mind on account of the money we were to get for it. Sammy Barnes sent them all off in a car to Chatham.'

‘They went in the dark; and then this whooping-cough idea was invented to explain their absence?'

‘The youngsters play with kids in the street, who call for them. We didn't want that. So, we said we'd put it about they'd got whooping-cough. I couldn't say my wife was away. If I did, well, as I said, we've neighbours who'd have started coming in to help with the housework and give me meals. They always do when the wife's away. So, I had to pretend we were all at home, and that the kids were in bed and the wife nursing them.'

‘Who's was the idea of the tape-recorder?'

‘Sammy Barnes's. He lent it to me and the doctor got the tape. There's a lot of whooping-cough about just now and it was easy. Sammy said it would add a bit of colour to the tale we'd told.'

‘Quite a man, Sammy, isn't he?'

‘Yes. He owns most of the district round our place.'

Peeples told it all in a monotonous, whining voice, without
a smile or even a grimace. In certain aspects it was highly comic, but Peeples didn't see it that way.

‘Tell me another thing, Mr. Peeples. What happened on the morning the body appeared in the street?'

‘The bloke who was wounded suddenly woke up. You see, from the time he was brought to my place to the time he woke up and recognised the doctor, he was asleep, as if he'd been put under a drug of some kind. Well, early that morning, he woke up. I'd been watching by him part time and a chap called Liddell, who works for Barnes and had been a medical orderly like me, in the last war, did the rest. It was my turn on when the injured chap came-to. The doctor told me that if there was any change in his condition, I'd to go for him right away. So I went to fetch him; it's only a few doors away. When he came, the wounded man was conscious. When he saw Dr. Macready, he looked absolutely terrified. He tried to sit-up in bed. We pushed him back. The doctor went back to his place for some drugs and I went to the door to take a breather and a smoke. Before I knew where I was, the sick chap was out of bed and past me. He was on his last legs, but managed to stagger across the road. Then he fell flat. I rushed down for the doctor. Just as we were leaving his house, somebody passed. We stood inside for a minute. The doctor said perhaps they wouldn't notice the body, or else think he was a drunk. …'

At this point, Mr. Moffat decided to break-in with an anti-climax.

‘You all right, Lionel?'

He glared at Cromwell and Littlejohn and looked ready to chuck them out if they weren't treating his son-in-law with the respect due to him.

Peeples was sweating and haggard with the memories of the fatal night, but he managed to steady himself and told the old man that everything was under control.

‘Your supper's spoiled. Ma's as mad as a hatter. As much as I could do to stop her comin' in and raisin' Cain.'

Mr. Moffat withdrew after telling Lionel not to be long, and Peeples cast a bewildered look at the two policemen.

‘Where was I?'

‘The wounded man was in the street.'

‘When the street was empty again, we went to the man, but the doc. said he was dead. “You go in, Peeples, and leave this to me,” he sez. And I was glad to do it. I'd had enough. By heavens, I'd had enough! I was thinkin' of my missus and the kids. …'

He broke down and wept. He hadn't a handkerchief and Cromwell had to give him one. Finally, he settled down again, blew his nose with finality, and looked round to see what was coming next. He seemed to be counting the number of his in-laws in the photo-frames, wondering how many he could muster to his rescue.

At this point, the gas went out and they were left in the dark. A voice was heard crying to Lionel that they were putting another shilling in the meter and that he'd better re-light or else they'd all be gassed. Cromwell rose wearily, flicked his lighter, and illuminated them again. In the darkness, Peeples had been tearing his hair and now appeared dishevelled and wild.

‘What's goin' to 'appen to me? You aren't goin' to arrest me, are you? If you do, my in-laws'll murder me. They're a very proud lot.'

They looked it, too.

‘Nothing's going to happen to you, Mr. Peeples, if what you say is true.'

Mr. Peeples raised his hands above his head with the fingers outstretched.

‘As God's my judge. …'

‘No need for that, Mr. Peeples. When Sergeant Cromwell
called you gave him full details of how you'd seen the body and all about the milkmen and the rest. If you were involved in the matter of the dead body, you were very forthcoming. Why didn't you try to cover yourself and say you'd not seen it?'

Mr. Peeples looked outraged.

‘Are you suggestin' that I should 'ave told the police a lie? I
am
surprised. I'd have thought. …'

‘I'm suggesting nothing. I want to know what motive you had in co-operating in the circumstances.'

‘Just idle curiosity, eh? Well, I'll tell you. First, Mr. Cromwell's arrival took me off my guard. This is the first time I've ever been on the wrong side of the police and I was only caught at it then through ignorance. Barnes and the doctor spun me a tale. How was I to know that the man was a crook, hidin' from justice? I grant you that all the arrangements, like gettin' rid of the wife and all that about the tape recorder and such, were a bit queer. They were alien to my nature, gentlemen. …'

A good phrase. Peeples thought so, and repeated it with emphasis.

‘H'alien to my nature, gentlemen. Besides Mr. Cromwell treated me decent. He told me about the mouse-ear. So I told
him
about the body.'

‘You know the doctor well?'

‘Yes. He was our doctor when he was in practice.'

‘Do you remember the time when he was suspected of knocking down a boy on a bicycle and killing him?'

Peeples turned paler; he looked ready to pass out.

‘Who told you about that? It's years since. He was proved innocent.'

‘I know. You worked for Barnes at the time?'

‘Yes, on and off.'

‘Doing good jobs on paintwork, I believe.'

‘Yes. What of it?'

‘Did you put the paintwork on the doctor's car right immediately after the accident I mentioned?'

‘What if I did? He didn't do it. The dent in the mudguard came from somethin' else. Must 'ave done.'

‘But the doctor didn't think so, did he? He thought he'd killed the boy. Now, Mr. Peeples, I want you to co-operate with us, and we'll see you don't bring disgrace on the Moffatt family if all you say is the truth.'

‘It is, so help me.'

‘Answer my question truthfully, then. The doctor still thought he'd killed the boy, even after the inquest. Why? Did somebody cook-up an alibi for him?'

Peeples hesitated.

‘Yes. Barnes did. We mended the car and Barnes found someone to swear the doctor was with him at the time.'

‘Who was it?'

‘Alfred Allen. He used to work for Barnes, but was laid-off sick for a long time. He was hard-up and in bed with lung trouble, I think. Barnes must have paid him to swear that affidavit. Allen died six months after.'

‘So Barnes had a hold over the doctor?'

‘Yes. I heard the men talking in the garage. The doctor wasn't the sort to stand for it normally. But he'd his sister to look after and if it had come out and he'd been gaoled, what would have happened to her?'

‘I see. So Barnes could put the screw on him if he wanted.'

‘I suppose so. But I never seen him do it.'

‘I don't suppose you have. It's not likely that Barnes would give a public exhibition of putting the screw on Macready, is it?'

‘I guess not.'

‘Have you any idea how the dead man happened to fetch up at Barnes's place?'

‘Not a one. All I knew was when Barnes came to me,
ordering me about, like. “Get the wife and kids off to her mother's”, Barnes says. “And be quick about it.” Jobs of my sort are hard to get and I'm in no position to tell him to take a runnin' jump. I'd lose my job and my house as well. It's let furnished to us, and he can chuck us out when he wants. Barnes pays well, but he's one hell of a boss. All his own way, or nothin'. Follow?'

‘I do. Now one last question, Mr. Peeples.'

‘Ask away. If Barnes gets to know what I've told you already, there'll be another murder. You won't forget, will you, that I co-operated with the law?'

‘I won't. What I want to ask is, what made Barnes suddenly rush you here to your wife and family? He's not the kind who'd do it for charity, is he?'

Peeples looked a bit sheepish now.

‘I'm a bit 'ighly-strung, as perhaps you'll have observed. …'

To emphasise this and give an example, Mr. Peeples thereupon made a grimace with his mouth and twitched his hands to show how nervous he was.

‘Well, bein' alone in that house, where the man had died on our hands and missin' the friendly company of the wife and kids, got on my nerves. I couldn't sleep. And then there was the police around. I was sure they'd call again. Added to the fact that I'd done a dirty trick on the sergeant, there, after he'd shown such interest in the kids bein' ill, which wasn't true…'

Cromwell suddenly straightened himself and gave Peeples a disgusted look.

‘Oh, scrub that part, Peeples. You were only saving your own miserable hide. Don't bring me in it. All I can say is you're a damned good actor. You took me in properly.'

‘I do assure you, sergeant, the children did have whooping-cough in the summer… ?'

‘I said scrub it.'

‘I had to have some company. So I went to the
Admiral
. I started drinking to keep up my courage.'

BOOK: Death Before Breakfast
11.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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