Sgt Beef - Case Without A Corpse Part 38

Why? Where are we going?

You'll see. There's one or two jobs to be done in Braxham. Then we'll pop up to the Yard, see?

And before I could enquire any further, he had put down his receiver. He had evidently been in a state of tremendous excitement for I had heard his breath wheezing as though he were exhausted from running to the telephone. I decided to keep an open mind on the subject, and sat down to an early cup of tea to pa.s.s the time until he arrived.

When the motor-bike pulled up outside, I found myself quite unthrilled. I can see now that this was the surest proof that I had never really believed in Beef. Here he was, arriving at the Mitre with what he claimed was a proven explanation of the whole thing, and I didn't even feel inclined to go out and meet him.

He burst into the room where I still sat over the tea-things. He had, it seemed, been a bit shaken and chilled by his ride on Galsworthy's pillion, for his nose and gills were positively purple, and the fringes of his moustache were damp.

Come on! he almost shouted. But I was calm.

Have a cup of tea? I suggested.

No time for tea. I tell you I'm right on to it. I've only got to get a bit more evidence. . . . Are you coming?

I rose slowly. I suppose so, I said, and followed him out.

He dismissed Galsworthy with a hurried gesture, and strode off down the High Street.

Where are we going? I asked wearily.

To Rogers's shop.

Look here, Sergeant, if you're going to start all that going round questioning people again, you can count me out. I've had enough of it with Stute.

You can please yourself, said Beef as he hurried on.

Somehow I found myself following. I didn't believe he had solved the riddle, I was thoroughly fed up with the whole thing. But I kept with him.

As soon as I entered the bootmaker's shop for the second time that day, I knew that at least something unusual was happening, for Mrs. Rogers, looking worried, came forward excitedly.

Oh, Sergeant, she said, I'm so glad you've come. I was wondering whether I ought to send for you. It's my husband.

Wot about 'im?

He's gone. I've never known him to act so strangely before. It must have been half an hour ago. He suddenly came downstairs dressed in his best suit, with his bag packed. I'd heard him moving about overhead, but I'd never thought anything of it. I asked him whatever he was about and he said he had to go away for a few days. I couldn't make it out. Of course he's been acting a bit strange ever since we knew about Alan. Well, it was a big blow to both of us. But to pack up and leave ...

Ever know 'im to clear off like this before?'

No. Never. Not since we've been married. I can't understand it. Of course I've sometimes had a fancy that Alan may have told him that evening who it was he murdered. And perhaps my husband can't bear the thought of it. It may have played on his nerves like. I don't know. It's frightened me. Suppose he loses his memory or something? What ought I to do?

But didn't 'e tell you where 'e was off to?

Not a word. I must have asked him a dozen times. He wouldn't say a word. That's what makes it so strange. And there's another thing . . . only I don't know whether I ought to tell you this. . . .

Come on, Mrs. Rogers ... was all Beef needed to say.

Well, it's this. There's a drawer in his writing-desk that he always kept locked. I used to pull his leg about it. And he'd laugh, but he'd never say what was in it. Then one day, some time before Alan came home, he was alone at his desk when the postman called, and he went out to get the letters, and left the drawer open. He had some business letters he was reading and somehow or other forgot to lock the drawer. And when he went out that evening I couldn't help having a peep. And what do you think? There was a bundle of notes there that thickpound notes they wereand a bit of paper under the elastic band with 100 written on it. I was surprised. Then I guessed what it washe'd been saving up for something for me that I wasn't to know about. I remember he once talked of our having a baby motor car one day, and perhaps that was it. Anyway, I knew it would disappoint him if he thought I'd seen, so I said nothing about it.

Well? asked Beef.

Oh yes. I was going to tell you. Just before you came I went to the drawer. I don't know what made me. But anyway I did, and the bundle was gone. I don't know what to make of it, though I daresay you do. Perhaps someone's stolen them and he's gone after him. Perhaps . . . perhaps it's something to do with Alan. Anyway, they've gone.

All 1 notes you say? asked Beef.

Yes.

New ones?

No. Not extra. Just ordinary, as though they'd been put there from time to time.

Well now, Mrs. Rogers, don't you worry your 'ead off, said Beef. I daresay every-think'll turn out for the best. Wot's the time? Quarter to six? We shall 'ave to 'urry. I wonder if you'd do me a favour now?

Certainly I will. What is it?

You 'op round to my 'ouse and tell my missus I more than likely shan't be back to-night. And if you don't like staying on your own, you get 'er to make you up a bed there, see? Now then, Mr. Townsend, we must go.

CHAPTER XXIX.

AT THIS POINT I began to be infected with some of Beef's excitement. It did seem so very odd that little Mr. Rogers should have suddenly deserted his wife and his business just when the Sergeant wanted to question him again. It would have been odd at any time, but just this evening, with Beef making straight for his shop, it was uncanny.

And the Sergeant's own movements now became eccentric, to say the least of it. He almost ran down the few yards of the High Street that separated us from the chief garage of the town, and dived into its office. In a few moments the proprietor's son had driven out the old Morris Oxford that he used for taxi work, and we climbed into it.

Drive down to the station, said Beef, and right up close to the goods entrance. Quick as you can.

The old car moved off, and Beef sat puffing impatiently and staring out of the window, till we approached the station yard.

Now then, Mr. Townsend, he said, duck down. Right out of sight, please.

I obeyed, not without feeling somewhat ridiculous to find myself crouching down in the taxi with Beef on all fours beside me.

'Arry! he called to our driver, when the car was at a standstill. Anyone about?

Not at the minute, said Harry.

No one looking out of the waiting-room?

No. And they couldn't see here if they was.

All right. We'll make a dash for it. And suddenly, with quite unbelievable agility, old Beef had leapt from the taxi, and into the luggage office. As swiftly as possible I followed him.

Once inside he turned to the clerk there. Sorry, he said, only it's important, see.

The clerk grinned. Whatever are you up to, Sarge? he asked, jumping in 'ere like that?

No larfing matter, said Beef, and seeing Charlie Meadows, the porter who had already given evidence, he called across to him. Meadows approached.

'Ere, Charlie, Beef said, in an exaggerated undertone, I'm on to somethink.