‘We’ll ask you to lift it for us presently, won’t we, Super? In the meantime, do you think I’m right in assuming that the striking of that railing and this heap of clay would account for all the damage?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ Dexter said slowly. ‘It would set back the radiator and that would damage the fan and so on. It would crush up the wings, too, of course.’
‘The carburettor?’
Dexter hesitated. ‘I suppose it would have done that too,’ he said slowly. ‘I don’t see exactly how, but it’s not easy to account exactly for everything.’
French grinned. ‘I’m afraid, Mr Dexter, you’ll have to bear with us. In the police we have an absolute obsession for detail. If we don’t find out how that carburettor has got broken, we’ll feel our day has been lost.’ He bent down and examined the damaged brasswork. ‘Speaking subject to your correction,’ he went on, ‘it seems to me that the carburettor has been hit by something pretty heavy. Are those scratches on it the nature of the beast, or have they come since birth?’
‘You’re quite right, Chief-Inspector,’ Dexter agreed. ‘Those marks are not natural. Clearly the carburettor has been broken by a heavy knock, and those marks show where it was hit.’
‘Then what hit it?’
Dexter shook his head. ‘That’s what I can’t tell you,’ he declared. ‘But there’s no doubt that something has.’
‘Well,’ French said lightly, ‘if we can’t get it, we can’t. It was an unfortunate part of the accident, at all events, because I presume that’s where the petrol came from that caused the fire?’
‘It looks like it.’
‘But is there any doubt of it?’ French persisted.
‘No, I don’t think there is,’ Dexter returned, but his manner seemed dissatisfied.
‘What is it?’ French asked. ‘I can see you’re not quite happy about that.’
Dexter shook his head. ‘No, that’s not right,’ he declared. ‘I’m happy enough, as you call it. Simply it seemed rather a big fire for all the petrol that would have come out.’
‘Oh?’
‘You see, that’s the old form of tank, above the dash. With that pipe broken the petrol would run out all right, but it’s a small pipe and it wouldn’t run out very quickly. I should have thought myself that the fire would have been confined to the front of the car. But I see I’m wrong.’
‘Impossible to be right in everything. By the way, how do you think the petrol got alight?’
‘That I’m not very clear of either. When you get a fire it’s generally due to a short circuit somewhere, or else, if the engine is badly smashed up, to the petrol getting on to too hot metal. Here I don’t think it could have got on to anything too hot, and I don’t for the moment see what could have sparked. But there again some connection may have been broken which is now covered with clay.’
‘That you’ll be able to tell us later. Now, Mr Dexter, you mustn’t jump to conclusions by my asking you this question. It’s a routine question which we put in all cases of this kind. Can you see anything which might suggest that the accident was a fake? You remember the somewhat similar Rouse case? It was there held that the fire was not an accident, but was caused deliberately. Can you see evidence for or against that idea here?’
Dexter seemed a good deal interested by the suggestion. ‘Some of these questions that you’ve been putting showed me that something of the sort was in your mind, and I agree that the smashing of the carburettor and the lighting of the petrol might at first sight look like it. But my experience is that you simply can’t account for everything that will happen in a smash. Because we can’t explain these two things, it doesn’t follow they were done deliberately. You follow what I mean?’
‘Of course. But you can’t see direct evidence, one way or another.’
‘I think I can,’ Dexter returned, somewhat to French’s surprise. ‘You see those controls? The car’s in top gear. Now suppose there was some hanky-panky about it, I don’t believe it could have been got into top gear. You suggest, I suppose, that the driver was dead before the accident, and that the accident was no accident at all, but was deliberately brought about?’
‘I suggest nothing,’ French returned; ‘all I ask is whether you see any evidence for or against some theory of the kind.’
‘Well, I see evidence against it. If the driver was dead, the smash could only have been caused by starting the car from outside, and running along beside it while it was gaining speed, and trusting it to run straight for the last few yards without a hand on the wheel. Now it wouldn’t be possible, in my opinion, to get the lever into top gear under such circumstances. The speed would be too high.’
French nodded.
‘That may not be quite convincing,’ Dexter went on, ‘but I think this is: In such a fake the only way you could get your acceleration—necessary acceleration, mind you—would be from the hand lever. Obviously you couldn’t get it from the foot pedal; you’d have to be inside the car to do so. But, if you used the hand lever, it would stay put. The hand lever doesn’t snap back to normal when freed, as does the pedal. Now this lever is in the normal position, giving minimum acceleration. Therefore the pedal must have been down at the time of the crash. Therefore a living person must have been in the car, and therefore it looks to me like a genuine accident.’
‘That’s very valuable, Mr Dexter, and just what I wanted. You understand that all we’ve discussed is confidential, don’t you?’ He turned to Crawford. ‘Well, Super, if you agree I think we’ll ask Mr Dexter if he’ll get his breakdown plant and have the car taken to his garage, where it can be better examined. Will you do that for us, Mr Dexter?’
‘Yes, if I may borrow your car, Superintendent?’
‘Of course,’ said Crawford. ‘Take it with pleasure.’
When the engineer had disappeared French turned to the Super.
‘What do you think of our friend’s argument, Super?’ he asked. ‘It seems to me he’s overlooked something pretty obvious.’
‘You mean?’ Crawford returned.
‘Well, he’s looking at only one possibility of fake. He’s considering only how the car could have been driven down to where it is. He’s forgotten that the fake might have come after that.’
‘You mean that he’s assuming it went on fire as a result of the fall?’
‘Just that. If it didn’t and if the fire was produced deliberately after the crash, his argument simply washes out.’
Crawford seemed a good deal impressed. ‘It’s a fact, Chief-Inspector,’ he admitted. ‘If that were so the controls could have been altered between the crash and the fire.’
‘Exactly, Super. You’re a thought reader.’
‘Then you’re still doubtful that it was an accident?’
French looked grave. ‘Tell me, Super,’ he asked, ‘did your people lift that bonnet cover?’
‘Certainly not,’ Crawford answered decisively. ‘We touched nothing except to remove the body.’
‘And do you think that the crash would have opened it just enough to enable the carburettor to be got at? You see, it’s prised up just high enough for that and no more.’
‘I see what you mean. You think the crash wouldn’t have broken the carburettor?’
‘Well, do you? Seems to me it was protected by the radiator. Admittedly, the radiator was pushed back, but it was just as good a protection as in its normal position.’
Crawford made a sudden gesture. ‘Absolutely correct, I should say! And if so, the smashing was done deliberately and we’re on to something very like murder.’
‘It’s beginning to look that way to me. I don’t believe that carburettor was broken by the crash, and I don’t believe that petrol was set on fire by the crash, and I don’t believe the dribble of petrol that could come out of that pipe could make a fire of the size there’s been here. But can we prove it?’
‘Ah, that’s the rub.’
‘It usually is. However, let’s try. If that carburettor wasn’t broken by
the crash, it was deliberately struck by something. Can we guess what that might have been. We have the marks on it to guide us.’
Both men bent down once more and examined the scratches and dints on the brasswork.
‘You see,’ said French, ‘they’re quite irregular. If it had been hit with a hammer there would be little plane surfaces, bounded by tiny arcs of circles. But these blows are so irregular that they might be called jagged.’
‘A stone?’ the Super suggested.
‘That is what I had in mind,’ French admitted. ‘If so, that should give us a clue. There are plenty of stones about here, though none of them are loose.’
Crawford nodded. All over the ground were stones of various sizes, bedded in the grass-covered soil.
‘Let’s look around,’ Crawford suggested with something almost of eagerness in his heavy manner.
They began searching, but it was Carter who had the luck. He had been poking about while the others were talking, and now he gave a cry. French and Crawford hurried over.
Beneath a low growing shrub was the bed of a large irregularly shaped stone. It was fresh, showing the stone had recently been lifted.
‘That about settles it,’ French said slowly as he stood looking down. ‘If we could find that stone, and if by any impossible chance a fingerprint should show on the clay, it might fix the thing for us.’
Again they searched, and this time it was French who gave the cry.
In a clump of bushes lay a rough stone some eight or nine inches long, which had obviously come from the bed Carter had found. French lifted it carefully. The grass beneath it was fresh. He turned it round and at once gave a little grunt of satisfaction. On the sharpest of the points were tiny flakes and scrapings of brass.
‘That about settles our hash,’ he said grimly. ‘Your Chief Constable was right and we’re on to a murder.’
Crawford, greatly impressed, agreed. ‘They nearly got off with it, too. If we had paid attention to the expert, they would have. And he’s a good man, is Dexter.’
‘He was right, as far as he went. He just didn’t go far enough.’
As French spoke he was examining the stone more minutely. ‘You see,’ he went on, ‘it’s covered with dulled fingerprints. The man has worn gloves. We’ll get nothing more from the stone. Bring it along, Carter, all the same.’
For a moment there was silence, then French went on: ‘Let’s see now how we stand. We’re assuming that the victim was murdered and put in the car and the car run down the bank. Owing to the difficulty of getting up a high enough speed, the smash was not complete and fire did not result. But fire was necessary to remove traces of the murder, so petrol had to be spilled. Breaking off the carburettor seemed the obvious way, and it was broken off. But advantage was taken of the chance to set the controls in a more natural position. Personally, I imagine that more petrol was used, but I don’t see that we can prove it. That right so far?’
‘It’s my reading of the facts.’
‘Now will the state of the body throw any light on this theory? What about that fracture at the back of the skull?’
Crawford made a sudden gesture. ‘By Jove, Chief-Inspector, you’re right there! I noted the difficulty of accounting for a heavy wound at the back of the head when the man must have been pitched forward, but I supposed it just must have happened. I bet now it never happened. I bet that wound on the back of the head was inflicted before the car ever ran down the bank. What do you think?’
‘Yes, I’m inclined to think so too. Let’s go, Super, and have a look at the remains and a word with the doctor.’
‘We’ll have to wait till Dexter comes back with my car.’
‘He’ll not be long.’
As if to justify French’s opinion, the Super’s car at that moment swung round the corner and rapidly approached. It drew up beside them and Dexter alighted.
‘The breakdown truck will be here in a few minutes,’ he explained. ‘It won’t take long to lift so light a car, and we’ll have it into the shop within the hour. Give me another hour for an examination, and I’ll let you have my report.’
‘Splendid!’ French approved. ‘Then I think we’ll leave you to it. What about getting along, Super?’
An examination of the remains gave French nothing more than he had already known, and they drove on to the doctor’s house. Luckily the doctor was at home.
He had not, however, much to tell. The fracture of the skull postulated a very heavy blow. It certainly could have been due to accident, as for instance, if the deceased had fallen heavily on his back and had struck his head against some solid object. Or it could have been due to murder: someone coming up behind his victim and striking him with a heavy blunt instrument. No, it could not possibly have been self inflicted. As to whether it could have been caused by the car accident, French and the Super could form just as good an opinion as he could. If the deceased had been thrown violently against the car, so that the back of his head struck some hard and rigid object, then the injury might have resulted. Whether the deceased was or was not thrown in such a way, it was not his province to say. That, it seemed to him, was a matter for the police.
French with a smile acknowledged the justice of these observations, and they bid the doctor good morning.
‘He believes it was murder,’ said French when they were back in the car.
‘You think so?’
‘I’m sure of it. He wasn’t going to say so, but he doesn’t think the injury was caused by the accident. I should say that from his manner.’
Crawford nodded. ‘Probably you’re right. I believe myself it’s a true bill, and I congratulate you, Chief-Inspector, on your morning’s work. It’s a big step to have taken in so short a time.’
‘My dear man,’ French returned, ‘it was a joint achievement by all three of us. But we’re by no means out of the wood. It’ll only worry us to know it was murder, unless we get the murderer.’
‘And what’s the next step?’
‘Chayle, I suppose. I don’t think there’s much more to be learned at this end.’
But it turned out that there was one thing more. As they reached the police station a constable came forward. The Superintendent at Cowes had found the dentist who had attended to Clay’s teeth, and he had just arrived. Should he be taken to see the remains?
Crawford took the man across himself, and Carter accompanied them. French did not, sitting down instead at the Super’s desk to consider what he had learnt.
If this car accident were really faked—and by this time French had little doubt that it had been—it showed evidences of that highly developed intelligence which the Chief Constable had postulated. The ‘accident’ was of the same order as the obtaining of a key to open the safe: something which could only be done by an exceptionally gifted man. Here indeed was proof of the Chief Constable’s very shrewd deduction.
If, however, the unhappy watchman had been in his death the victim of a more able intelligence, had he not also been this other person’s dupe from the first? French thought so. There was nothing to suggest that Clay could have been a partner in the theft.
But if he were a dupe from the beginning, how had the real actor bent him to his purpose? What inducements had he used to force Clay to disappear from the works and to buy the car and do whatever else was necessary for the scheme?
Here was a difficult problem. Handicapped as he was by his lameness, which would at once have made him a marked man, Clay would never have put himself in such a position, unless some extraordinarily powerful pressure had been brought to bear on him. Probably it would be necessary to go into Clay’s life. That indeed was a promising line of research. It should give contacts suggesting the nature of the pressure used, which in its turn might point directly to the guilty party.
French had not time to proceed further with his analysis. He had just jotted down these general ideas when Crawford and Carter returned with the dentist.
‘It’s Clay, all right,’ Craw
ford said as they entered. ‘You’re quite sure, sir?’
‘I’m perfectly sure,’ the dentist returned. ‘As you gentlemen probably know, mouths vary enormously, and to persons like myself who have studied the subject, each mouth is distinctive. With my card index’—he tapped a box he was carrying—‘I can at once recall any mouth upon which I have ever worked, without possibility of error. It’s as certain as a fingerprint.’
No doubt that the dead man was really Clay had arisen in French’s mind. At the same time it was certainty that he wanted and not opinion. Well, here was certainty, and so far as it went it was all to the good. French was pleased with his progress.
His morning’s work however was not yet over. It was now nearly two hours since they had parted from Dexter, and the three police officers returned to the Austin depot to see if his report was ready.
It was. Dexter reported that he had made a detailed examination of the car and had found nothing to account for the disaster. The steering gear was in perfect order, except for a bend to the cross-rod which had obviously been caused by striking the earth. In fact all the damage—very slight under the circumstances—had almost certainly been the result, and not the cause, of the crash.
‘That’s about proof of the murder theory,’ said Crawford when they had left the garage. ‘I suppose it means an adjourned inquest?’
‘I should think so,’ French returned. ‘And I think we’d better keep what we’ve learned to ourselves.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I say, Super, it’s getting on to one o’clock. What about a spot of lunch with us? About this time my thoughts usually turn towards eating and drinking. And as for Carter’s, his never seem to leave the subject.’
Crawford agreed with alacrity and they went to the nearest hotel. A period of intensive action of another kind ensued, and then French and Carter left for Southampton with the object of catching the 2.20 p.m. boat for Cowes.
10
French Learns of the Process
The two men enjoyed every minute of their hour’s sail to the Island. The early promise of the day had been more than fulfilled. It was hot in the brilliant sun, but the Medina’s forceful stride made a pleasantly cool breeze. The colouring was intensely vivid. The blue sky produced an azure sea, and both were relieved by the green of the trees on the shores to right and left, and lower down, the reddish brown of the clay cliffs near Hill Head.
Mystery on Southampton Water Page 11