Detection Unlimited (35 page)

'Railway cloakroom?'

Hemingway shook his head. 'Too hackneyed for him. Besides, he might expect it to be one of the first places I'd check up on, if ever I got on to- the real weapon. If this were London, I should want to know if he rented a safe deposit, but I don't suppose you've got any here, have you?'

'I'm afraid not.'

'Ah, well! I daresay it would have been a bit too obvious anyway,' said Hemingway philosophically. 'He's probably put it somewhere I should never think of looking for it, which means that I shall have to 245 rely more than I like on circumstantial evidence, or read all the books he's written, on the chance that he's used the idea before.'

The Sergeant, who had been thinking profoundly, said abruptly: 'You know what, sir? Mr Plenmeller ought to have handed in his brother's guns as soon as he was dead. It's illegal for him to keep them. I don't mean it's a thing we should make a fuss about, in the circumstances, because very likely he isn't well-up in the regulations, and he may think that if the licence for them hasn't run out, which it hasn't, it's all right for him to hang on to them. How would it be if I was to send one of our chaps out to call on him, like it was a routine-job? Just a uniformed constable, sent to explain that all this business has brought it to the attention of the police that the late Mr Plenmeller's guns were never handed in, and that they must be. He can have a list of them, and check it over with Mr Gavin Plenmeller. What's Mr Plenmeller going to do then?'

'Hand over the guns in the cabinet, and deny all knowledge of the Colt,' answered Hemingway promptly.

'If he did that, it would look pretty suspicious, wouldn't it, sir?'

'It would, but you'd never prove he was lying. From what I've seen of Mr Gavin Plenmeller, I wouldn't envy your uniformed constable his job, either. He'd find Gavin all readiness to oblige, and he could think himself lucky if he got away without having had to help turn out every chest and cupboard trunk in the house in an attempt to find the gun. And all he'd have achieved at the end would be to have put Plenmeller wise to what I'm up to. No, thanks! I'd as soon that gentleman went on thinking he's fooled me until I'm ready to put handcuffs on him. You never know: he might take it into his head I'd look well on a mortuary-slab.'

'He wouldn't dare do that!' said the Sergeant, grinning broadly.

'Oh, wouldn't he? Seems to me that if he thinks I'm the original Sherlock Holmes it's about the best thing he could do! It's a pity I'm not, because if I were I daresay I should have deduced by this time where I ought to look for that Colt. As it is, I shall have to work on the evidence I've got.'

'Look here!' said the Colonel, a little uneasily. 'What you've been saying is extraordinarily plausible, but aren't we going too fast? We're all three of us talking as though there were no doubt Gavin murdered Warrenby!'

'There isn't, sir,' said Hemingway calmly.

THIS pronouncement made the Colonel look searchingly at him. 'What makes you so confident?' he asked.

'Flair,' replied Hemingway, without a moment's hesitation.

'Eh?' said the Sergeant.

'The Chief Inspector means -- er -- intuition,' explained the Colonel. 'Well, Hemingway, you know your own business best. What's the next' move?'

'I want Sergeant Carsethorn to do a bit of investigation for me, if you don't mind, sir.'

'Very happy to, I'm sure!' said the gratified Sergeant.

'It'll be better if you do it,' exclaimed Hemingway. 'You know the party concerned, and you've already questioned him once. You can say you forgot to make a note of what he said, or any other lie you fancy: we don't want him to spread it all over the village that you've been asking searching questions about Gavin Plenmeller.'

'You can trust me, sir!' the Sergeant assured him. 'But who is it?'

'I don't think you ever told me his name. But I seem to remember that when you were describing the dramatis personae to me, in this very room, when I first came down here, you spoke of some old boy who's got a cottage opposite the entrance to Wood Lane.'

'That's right, sir: George Rugby.'

'Rugby! Then you did mention the name, because that's brought it back to me. My memory's not as good as it used to be,' said Hemingway, shaking his head over this lapse.

'Too bad, sir!' said the Sergeant, once more on the broad grin. 'Still, it's good enough to be going on with! What do you want me to find out from Rugby?'

'Didn't you tell me he'd seen Mrs Cliburn and Plenmeller coming away from The Cedars on Saturday evening? You were trying to find out if either of them did anything suspicious, but neither of them did, and neither of them was carrying anything that might have contained a rifle, which were the two points we happened to be concentrating at the time. The really important point escaped you. Now, don't take on about it! It escaped me too -- which was probably because you were talking so much I never got time to think,' he added, as the Sergeant's face brightened again. 'What I want to know now is, which came down the lane first? Mrs Cliburn, or Mr Plenmeller?'

'My Gawd!' exclaimed the Sergeant involuntarily. He cast a deprecating look at the Chief Constable, and said: 'Beg your pardon, sir! But he's quite right: I did miss that, and I oughtn't to have. By the time I got round to making enquiries in the village, I'd interviewed so many people -- still, it's no excuse! I didn't suspect anyone in particular, and what with old Rugby being one of those who take half an hour to tell you a simple story, and me taking it for granted he'd seen Mr Plenmeller before he saw Mrs Cliburn, I properly slipped up.' He glanced at his watch. 'I'd like to go out to Thornden right now, sir, if you've no objection. The police-station is only two doors off Rugby's cottage, so I can pretend I've got business with Hobkirk; and if Rugby's sitting outside, which he probably will be on an evening like this, it'll be natural enough for me to stop and pass the time of day with him -- supposing anyone should happen to be watching what I'm up to.'

'All right,' said the Colonel. 'But you'll have to be careful not to let Rugby smell a rat, Carsethorn!'

'Yes, sir,' said the Sergeant. 'I shall tell him the Chief Inspector properly tore me off the strip for not giving him a written report of what he said.'

'Of course, I would' remarked Hemingway, as the door shut behind the triumphant Sergeant.

'You're having a thoroughly demoralizing effect upon my officers,' said the Colonel severely. 'By the way, have you done anything more about that other affair? Ainstable's business?'

'I asked my Chief to make discreet enquiries, sir. Which reminds me that I may as well tell him to forget it,' said Hemingway, getting up, and gathering his various papers together.

'I won't pretend I'm not glad you're dropping that,' said the Colonel frankly.

'Nothing to do with me, sir,' said Hemingway, tucking the papers under his arm. 'Unless there's anything more you want to discuss with me, I'll be getting along. Precious little more I can do till Harbottle gets back, except get Warrenby's clerk to go through the documents I took away from Fox House, and that can wait till I've had my supper.'

'Do you know where he lives?'

'I'll find out, sir.'

The Colonel got up, and held out his hand, saying, with a faint smile: 'You do find things out, don't you? Goodnight, then -- and good luck!'

Upon the following morning, the Chief Inspector consumed a leisurely and a somewhat belated breakfast. He liked to be left in peace at this meal, and since he did not expect Harbottle to arrive in Bellingham until twenty-seven minutes past ten, when the fast train from London made Bellingham its first stop, and knew very well that his identity had been disclosed by the landlord to the three Commercials who had arrived at the Sun on the previous day, it seemed desirable to him not to emerge from his bedroom until these fellow-guests had departed on their several errands. He timed his appearance in the coffee-room well, but he had reckoned without his host, Mr Wick, proprietor of the Sun, and also its chef, not only fried for him four rashers of bacon, two eggs, two sausages, and a tomato, with his own far from fair hands, but elected to carry this slight repast in to the coffee-room as well, and to stand over the Chief Inspector while he ate it. Simply clad in a stained pair of gray slacks and a dirty vest, he leaned his hairy arms on the back of a chair, and entertained Hemingway with an account of his own career, inviting, at the same time, any interesting confidences Hemingway might feel encouraged to repose in him. But as the Chief Inspector's only contribution to the conversation took the form of an earnestly worded piece of advice, to the effect that he should never show himself to his clients for fear of putting them off their food, he took himself off at last, leaving Hemingway to drink a third cup of well-sweetened tea, and to peruse the columns of his chosen newspaper.

He left the inn a little while before the London train was due, and walked through the town towards the station. He found South Street extremely congested, with various persons trying to park their cars against the kerb, and holding up all the traffic while they performed their complicated evolutions; and when he reached the market-place he discovered the reason for all this activity. Wednesday was Bellingham's market-day, and the wide square was crowded with omnibuses, stalls, vociferous merchants, and keen shoppers. Every branch of trade seemed to be represented, from a stall displaying bric-a-brac to one presided over by a stout individual who invitingly slapped a large and bright yellow object, stentoriously proclaiming: 'HaddOCKS, haddOCKS, haddOCKS!'

Hemingway, threading his way through the crowd, came upon Abby Dearham, who was carrying a basket already overflowing and who seemed to be in attendance on her aunt. She greeted him with her unaffected friendliness. 'Hallo! Whatever are you doing here? Are you marketing?'

'No, but I can see I ought to be,' he replied.

'Well, you really do pick up the most marvellous bargains sometimes. Everyone always comes in on market-day: it's one of the done things. If you happen to like goats' milk cheese, the Women's Institute, over there, beside the fruit-and-vegetables, have got some, which my aunt brought in and --'

Hemingway waited expectantly, but it was rapidly borne in upon him that Miss Dearham had suddenly lost interest in him. She appeared to have caught sight of a heavenly vision, and was staring beyond the Chief Inspector, an expression of fond idiocy upon her countenance. Turning his head, he perceived young Mr Haswell was bearing down upon them, looking quite as foolish as Miss Dearham, and even more oblivious of his surroundings. 'I thought you'd be here!' he said.

'Charles, you are dreadful!' said Miss Dearham, in a besotted voice. 'You ought to be working!'

The Chief Inspector, realizing that he was intruding into an idyll, and that two at least of Thornden's detectives had abandoned the search for truth, withdrew without excuse or leave-taking, and proceeded on his way to the station.

The train was just pulling out of it when he reached it, and he met Inspector Harbottle in the station-yard. The Inspector came striding briskly towards him. 'You win, Chief!' he said.

'Well, I hope I shall, but I'm not liking it much at the moment,' replied Hemingway, disappointingly unenthusiastic. 'Was it the date?'

'It was. The Superintendent had Acton stay on. He says you're a wonder, sir.'

'He's mistaken. However, I'm glad there's something I've managed to spot.'

'Anything gone wrong?' asked the Inspector anxiously.

'No, but I'm getting to be annoyed with myself. I don't deny that that letter strengthens my case a lot, but the one thing I want I'm damned if I know where to look for!'

The gun,' said Harbottle. 'I've been wondering about that all the way down from town. I don't see that we've a hope of finding it, but I think you've got enough on Plenmeller to justify you making an arrest. What did the doctor say about the stains on the carpet?'

'Oh, they're blood all right! Same group as Warrenby's, too. The doctor got hold of the collar he was wearing when he was shot: that was bloodstained, of course. And I took those papers round to Coupland last night, and he was quite sure two letters at least were missing. That's all right, as far as it goes, but neither the bloodstains nor the missing letters incriminates Plenmeller. I rather hoped I might be able to establish that he came down Wood Lane after the Vicar's wife did. Do you remember Carsethorn saying that one of the villagers had seen them both coming away from The Cedars on Saturday? Well, I sent Carsethorn out to Thornden after you left yesterday, to talk to this character.'

'No good?'

'I wouldn't go so far as to say that exactly. I should say, from what Carsethorn told me about a highly exasperating interview, that Plenmeller did come into the High Street later than Mrs Cliburn, but as the old man contradicted himself three times, not to mention remembering what happened, because of its having been at that exact moment that something else happened, only, when he came to think it over, that wasn't on Saturday, but on Thursday -- well, you know the sort of thing! -- he isn't the kind of witness anyone would want to call.'

'We'll do without him, then,' said the Inspector, in a heartening tone. 'Hallo! Market-day?'

'Yes. I ran into Miss Dearham and young Haswell on my way to the station -- very far gone, both of them! -- and I gather the better part of Thornden's in the town. We'll skirt round the side, or I may be made to buy a goats' milk cheese.'

The Inspector had no idea why his dud should he made to buy cheese of any kind, but he forbore to enquire into the matter, suspecting him of ill-timed levity. Together they circumvented the market-place, and began to make their way down South Street.

'What does the Colonel feel about it?' asked Harbottle.

'Oh, he thinks it's doubtful! That isn't worrying me. I know Plenmeller did it, but I don't like a case that rests only on circumstantial evidence.'

'A lot of murder-cases do,' Harbottle ventured to point out.

'Well, if this one does, I can see myself getting unpopular with the D.P.P. over this. I wouldn't mind so much with the ordinary run of criminals, but we're not dealing with that kind. Our interesting fiend is too clever to take any chances with.'