Sgt Beef - Case Without A Corpse Part 15

The rest of the drive was pa.s.sed with little conversation, and I sat at the back of the car wondering what conclusions were being reached in the minds of the two investigators.

At the police station Stute was told that a man was waiting to see him, and when we had sat down once again in Beef's little office, he was ushered in. His name, it appears, was Charles Meadows, and he was a porter employed at the railway station.

Evening, Sarge, he said with somewhat too much familiarity.

Beef cleared his throat. Good evening, Meadows, he returned in his most solemn voice. Wot can I do for you?

Mr. Meadows, who was a pale and rather peaked little man in his forties, leaned forward with an air of having a secret to confide. I've got something to tell you, he said.

Stute broke in. We're very busy, he said. What is it you want to say?

Mr. Meadows looked hurt. I was trying to help, he said.

Well, well. What can you tell us?

I saw young Rogers that evening when I was coming off duty, he said.

What time was that?

About ten to six, it would have been.

Where?

Well, I live out on the Chopley Road. I was walking along, not thinking of anything in particular, till I got past the last house in the avenue, and was going along that bit where the road goes across to our cottages. ...

That's not very explicit, Stute cut in. Do you mean that there is a stretch of road without any houses on it between the last outskirts of this town and the place where you live?

That's right, sir. Poor Mr. Meadows was quite subdued by the brisk manner of Stute.

Yes?

And there in front of me, by the side of the road, I saw a motor-bike pulled up. As I got nearer the man who was sitting in the saddle said, Hullo, Charlie, and I knew it was young Rogers.

You couldn't see him though?

Enough to recognize him with his voice and all, said Meadows guardedly. There was a young lady on the pillion seat.

What sort of young lady?

I couldn't say. She was wearing a white mackintosh, that's all I know. The lights of the bike were in my eyes, so nothing was very clear.

Did Rogers say anything else?

Yes, I'm coming to that. He asked what time the fast train left for London. 'This young lady,' he said, 'has to catch it.' So I told him at six o'clock. And he said, 'Thank you, Charlie. See you to-night.' And I went on.

Oh. You did. What about him?

I didn't really notice. I was just getting near my cottage and was soon inside. It was too cold to hang about.

And the girl never spoke?

Not while I was there.

I see. Thank you, Meadows. Much obliged to you.

That's all right, said Meadows, almost as disappointed as Mr. Sawyer had been at the laconic reception given to his tale. Sorry I can't tell you any more.

When he had left us Stute drew paper and pen to him, and said, Now then, in a peremptory way.

We waited. He seemed to be thinking deeply for a moment, then he began speaking, and, almost at the same time, writing.

We can draw up some sort of a programme of what young Rogers did that day. There are some gaps in it, and it is dependent on the words of witnesses who may be mistaken or who may be lying. But it's some sort of plan to go on. And it's not bad for one day's work.

I noticed that he ignored altogether the day that Beef had put in before he arrived. This was, as far as I can remember, what he wrote:

10.30. Left old Rogers's shop in Braxham.

11.0. Arrived at Rose Cottage, Chopley, and asked for Smythe.

11.5. Left Chopley.

1.0. Arrived at Riverside Private Hotel for lunch with Fairfax.

2.0. Left Riverside Private Hotel with Fairfax.

2.10. Reached the Mitre with Fairfax.

2.20. On entrance of foreigner, left Mitre with Fairfax.

2.45. Was starting up his motor-bike in the drive of Riverside Hotel.

4.0. Arrived again at Rose Cottage.

4.0-5.0. With Smythe at Rose Cottage.

5.10. Bought rope in general store at Chopley.

5.50. On readjust outside Braxham speaking to Meadows.

6.10. Entered Dragon public house near the station.

6.30. Left the Dragon.

8.0. Returned to Old Rogers's shop.

8.20. Reached Mitre where he confessed to murder, and took poison.

Do you see any flaws in that, Sergeant? asked Stute.