Sgt Beef - Case Without A Corpse Part 37

On the next day, the Wednesday, however, the Subcomisario with relentless determination returned to his duties, and saw the man Rogers emerge from the shop at which he lived. The time was approximately 10.30. The man was on a motor-bicycle. Again at 2.20 the Subcomisario, at his observation point near the most important drinking-house of the town, saw Rogers enter with a middle-aged man, and followed them into the bar. Such was their air of guilt, and so rapid was their exit when they saw him, that the Subcomisario is convinced that the elder man was involved in the traffic in noxious drugs. He followed the two of them, saw the older go towards the railway station, and Rogers take his motor-bicycle from the grounds of a private hotel nearby.

He did not again see the subject Alan Rogers until some time after eight o'clock that evening when he saw him making once again for the Mitre Hotel. The Subcomisario remained outside for some minutes and saw the blonde girl, whom he describes with a lyric ardour, approaching the hotel alone. He is surprised at this as his experiences have hitherto been limited to his own country where it would be highly unusual for a young lady to enter a bar, least of all unaccompanied. However, she had scarcely entered when a number of people began to emerge chattering excitedly. The Subcomisario had not a great enough command of your delightful if complex language to gather what was the cause of their emotion, however.

Soon the young lady herself emerged, a.s.sisted by an older and heavier woman, and evidently suffering from some considerable strain. The Subcomisario raised his hat and asked courteously the cause of the excitement, but was met by an angry retort. He had therefore no alternative but to remain in the vicinity of the hotel until the man he was watching should appear. In spite of the arrival and departure of a number of persons, all seeming under some stress, he saw no sign of Rogers until very late in the night, when to his astonishment he saw the man borne out by the publican and another elderly person of rather unintelligent aspect whom he reluctantly identified as the local Sergeant of Police. A further person was with them, but the Subcomisario was unable to decide on his ident.i.ty or connection with the matter.

He was able, however, to follow this cortege into the yard at the back of the hotel, and to see Rogers placed on a settee in a bare room. He concealed himself in the urinal while the bearers entered the house. He was under the impression that Rogers was inebriated but considered it his duty to confirm this belief. He waited therefore until the household was asleep, then entered by the window of the room in which Rogers lay, finding the catch of the window of a type which he describes as constructed for the benefit of intending burglars. He had just made the discovery that the subject Alan Rogers was dead when he was disturbed by 'the approach of someone from the room above, whose clumsy attempt to cross the floor unheard had been only too clear to him. He left the premises, slept for an hour or two in the bandstand afore-mentioned, and returned to London by an early train. He was then confined to his room with a severe attack of influenza due to exposure and under-nourishment. He congratulated himself that he did not contract pneumonia.

All these details, dear friend, I give you in the hope that they may a.s.sist your investigation, though I feel that by the time you receive this your researches will have terminated successfully.

Allow me to salute you,

Your friend and colleague,

JULIO MORENO MENDEZ..

Well, I remarked, not very intelligently perhaps, that about settles it. Everything complete except a murder. It all fits in like a jig saw. Fairfax, Smythe, Sawyer, the foreigner all accounted for. What now?

Stute slammed on his hat rather viciously. Only one thing for it, he said. I must go to the Yard and report.

PART III.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

WITH DETECTIVE-INSPECTOR Stute out of his territory, for the moment, anyway, Beef became suddenly conspiratorial.

Now's the time, he croaked to me, unconsciously a.s.suming the manner of the villain in a melodrama.

The time for what? I asked sceptically.

Whyfor seeing if I'm right, he said. I told you I was on to somethink.

I sighed. Well, why don't you go ahead, if you think you can succeed where Stute failed.

I don't say that, said Sergeant Beef, I don't say that at all. 'E was 'ot stuff, Stute was. I daresay in a really complicated case 'is methods would be wonderful. But this 'ere's not so complicated, if wot I think turns out right. It's as simple as ABC. The big mistake I made was ever to've thought it was tricky, and ]ad 'im down here at all. I could 'ave settled it on me own weeks ago. Still, there you are. I must get to work.

What are you going to do?

I'm going over to Claydon.

To Claydon? That's where Sawyer's brother lives, isn't it?

That's right.

But surely ...

Now look 'ere, Mr. Townsend. Up to now there 'asn't been nothink I've knowed wot I 'aven't told you. And I've got it all worked out. All I'm going for now is confirmation, see?

Oh, very well. Do you want me to come?

I don't 'ardly see 'ow you can, seeing as I'm going on the back of Galsworthy's motor bike.

Oh.

Still, continued Beef, as though he hated to disappoint me, if it all turns out like I think it will, you shall be in on it. Are you going to be in the Mitre this afternoon?

I rather thought of returning to town, I said.

Now don't do that, Mr. Townsend. Don't go and do that just when I'm going to move decisive. You 'ang on in the hotel, and I'll ring you up soon as ever I know where I am. 'Ow's that?

Rather unwillingly I agreed, and saw Beef seated awkwardly on the pillion of his constable's motor-cycle. I watched Galsworthy kick the starter, and they banged off down the High Street.

On my way back to the hotel it occurred to me that I should like to call in and see the old Rogers couple. Now that they had had some weeks in which to get over the first strain there was not the embarra.s.sment one had felt at first. And I liked them, and found the warmth of their regard for the wastrel who was dead a moving thing.

The old man came forward from his workroom.

Good morning. I've really come more or less to say good-bye, I told him.

Are you going back to town then? I'll call my wife. And he disappeared for a moment, and returned with Mrs. Rogers.

So you're leaving us? she said with a smile almost as radiant as the one I had seen on her face on that first day when she had leaned out of the carriage window to greet her husband.

Yes I said. Detective-Inspector Stute went back to London yesterday. He seems quite baffled.

Mrs. Rogers looked serious. So I suppose we shall never know what Alan did? And he'll be branded as a murderer without it ever being found out whether he struck in self-defence, or what it was. It seems a wicked thing.

Oh, I don't think Stute has given up, I said. He's not the man to do that. And Sergeant Beef is still on the case.

Yes . . . but ... of course, he's a good policeman and all that. But I don't see how it's to be expected that he'll get to the bottom of this when the London detective has failed.

I smiled, and a little tardy loyalty to my old friend prompted me to say, I don't know. He's not a fool. He has a way of plodding on and coming out with something quite unexpected. As a matter of fact he thinks he understands this case now. He's gone over to Claydon

to-day for what he calls confirmation of his theory.

Oh well. We can only hope for the best. I should like our boy's name to be cleared as much as possible.

I don't think you should set your hopes on that, Mrs. Rogers. The Sergeant admits that there doesn't seem to be much doubt of that part of the case. And now I must say goodbye. I'm off to-morrow.

They shook hands with me, and, feeling warmed by my visit, I returned to the Mitre for lunch.

Frankly I did not expect much of a phone call from Beef. I comforted myself with the reflection that whether it came through or not I should be acting according to the best precedents. Even if he rang through to say that he had unearthed the weeks-old corpse of young Rogers's victim, I should only be in the convention if I had long given up hope of his solving the riddle.

At about three-thirty, however, I was called to the phone.

'Ere, Mr. Townsend, came his voice, so loud that it hurt my ear-drum and I had to hold the instrument an inch from my head, I'm on to it all right. Got everythink mapped out. Just wot I thought.

Well, who did he murder? I asked, rather irritably.

You wait till I tell you the 'ole story. It'll raise the 'air off your 'ead. I'll be with you as soon as I can. We're just starting off now. I'll pick you up at the Mitre.