by John Rhode
‘You paid a five-pound note into the bank last Saturday morning, I believe?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I did,’ the landlord replied. And then, in some concern, he added, ‘there wasn’t anything wrong with it, was there?’
‘No, the note was right enough,’ Jimmy said. ‘We’ve been wondering where you got it from, that’s all.’
‘It won’t take long to tell you that. There aren’t many of my customers that carry five-pound notes about them. It was Mr Slater. You know him, I expect, Superintendent, by his limp. He often comes in here of an evening for a drink.’
‘You know him quite well by sight then?’ Jimmy asked.
The landlord smiled. ‘Well enough to be able to swear to him, sir,’ he replied. ‘I dare say it would be no secret to the Superintendent that Mr Slater’s apt to be a nuisance. There’s been times when he’s come here that I’ve had to refuse to serve him. But he was all right when he gave me that note, and I thought he seemed quieter than usual.’
‘When did he give you the note?’ Jimmy asked.
‘Last Friday evening. I know that, for it was the evening before I went to the bank. If it hadn’t have been I mightn’t have had the change in the house. Mr Slater came in by himself at about half-past six and ordered his drink. A double-whisky and splash as usual. And when he put his hand in his trousers pocket he found he hadn’t enough to pay for it. So he took out a note case, and there was a five-pound note in that. “Sorry, but this is all I’ve got,” he said. I said I could change it for him and that’s how it happened.’
Jimmy and the superintendent left the Rose and Crown. The latter looked at his watch. ‘Half-past nine,’ he said. ‘The Slater family will have finished their dinner. What about it?’
‘Yes, I think we’d better pay Gavin Slater a visit, sir,’ Jimmy replied. ‘We needn’t say anything of our suspicions. I should just like to ask him casually where he got that note.’
They drove to the house and were admitted by Lizzie. Mr Slater senior had gone to bed and Gavin and his wife were in the studio. ‘You needn’t trouble to announce us, Lizzie,’ said the superintendent. ‘We know our way, and we’ll go through.’
They opened the door of the studio to find Gavin at work on a canvas and his wife sitting on the sofa reading a magazine. Gavin turned round, stared at them angrily for a moment and then flung his brush and palette upon the floor.
‘Damnation!’ he exclaimed. ‘I thought I made it clear yesterday that I’m sick of the sight of you infernal policemen. What is it now?’
‘Only a question which can be answered very briefly, Mr Slater,’ Jimmy replied.
‘Well, out with it,’ Gavin growled. ‘And then perhaps you’ll clear out for good and leave us in peace.’
‘Did you change a five-pound note at the Rose and Crown last Friday evening, Mr Slater?’
‘I changed one there one day last week, but I won’t swear that it was Friday. It’s not an offence to change a five-pound note, is it?’
Jimmy disregarded this question. ‘Can you tell us how you acquired that five-pound note?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I can. On the evening that Knott was here he and I sat together for a bit after dinner, as I’ve already told you. He told me that he would have to go back to London by seven-twenty in the morning. Then he took out his wallet and looked inside it. He found that the smallest change he had was a five-pound note, and said that might be a nuisance on the train. He asked me if I could change one for him, and I told him that I could. So he took an envelope from his pocket and drew a lot of notes from it. I don’t know how many there were, for I didn’t take the trouble to count them. From this lot he took a five-pound note and gave it to me. I gave him four pound notes and two ten-shilling notes in return. And that’s how I came by the note, if it’s any satisfaction to you.’
‘Thank you, Mr Slater,’ said Jimmy gravely. And without further ceremony, he and the superintendent left the house.
‘So Master Gavin knew that Knott had that money on him,’ the superintendent remarked significantly as they re-entered the car.
‘Yes, and he was shrewd enough not to attempt to lie about it a second time,’ Jimmy replied. ‘But I don’t suppose his story of Knott having asked him to change the note is true. He invented it to account for his possession of the note. It hadn’t occurred to him that the numbers might be traced. He won’t attempt to change any more of them, that’s pretty certain.’
‘He won’t get the chance if we have any luck with the body,’ said the superintendent. ‘I’m sorry for his poor old father, though. It’ll be a terrible blow to him.’
They reached the police station to find an excited sergeant awaiting them. ‘I’ve got a chap here that says he saw Mr Gavin Slater early on Friday morning, sir,’ he said, addressing the superintendent.
‘Good!’ exclaimed the latter. ‘Who is the man?’
‘He’s a chap from the gas-works, sir. I knew that some of their men had to be at work by six, so I went along there and made inquiries. And I found this man, who always passes along the end of the road where Mr Slater lives about a quarter to six. You’ll like to hear him for yourself, sir. He’s waiting here now.’
The superintendent nodded approvingly. ‘Yes, I’d like to hear him,’ he replied. ‘Send him along to my room.’
A few minutes later the man appeared, escorted by the sergeant. He gave his name and address and then told his story. He remembered starting from home as usual at twenty minutes to six on Friday morning. He could distinguish Friday from the other days of the week since it was pay day. He reached the end of the road in question about a quarter to six. It was then dark, but not absolutely so, as the morning was clear and there was a moon. As he approached the end of the road, a man crossed in front of him. The distance between them was not more than a few yards. The man was thick-set and walked with a decided limp. He was carrying some large object in his right hand. He could not swear that the object was a suitcase, but it was a bag of some kind. From the manner in which the man was carrying it, it appeared to be very heavy. The man increased his pace when he saw that he was observed, and disappeared along the path leading towards the sea. It was too dark for him to see the man’s face, but the limp was very noticeable.
The superintendent put a few questions, then dismissed the man. He turned to Jimmy. ‘If the man with the suitcase was Gavin, as in all probability it was, the time he was seen becomes of importance. He was, no doubt, carrying the remains of Mr Knott with the intention of throwing them into the sea. He could have done so two or three minutes after he was seen. That means he disposed of them before six o’clock. The tide then would carry them out to sea. The chances of their being picked up are infinitesimal, I’m afraid. And we can’t very well drag the whole English Channel on the chance of coming across them. Well, we’ve done enough for tonight, I think. If you like to come round in the morning I’ll take you along that path and show you the rocks.’
Jimmy went to bed that night feeling that the case against Gavin Slater was conclusive. It would be for his superiors to decide upon the next step. Probably they would decide to wait for a little, in the faint hope that some part of the body would be discovered. Even if it were not, there was surely sufficient evidence to justify Gavin Slater’s arrest?
Next morning Jimmy and the superintendent walked along the path which led to the rocks. At this time of the year it was unfrequented, and they had the place to themselves. The path ran for two or three hundred yards between fences and was not overlooked. It descended by an easy slope to the rocky shore. There was no beach here, but only a series of more or less flat rocks mostly covered with seaweed. The tide, the superintendent pointed out, came up nearly to the foot of the path.
‘You see how it is,’ he said. ‘Anybody who didn’t mind getting their feet wet could walk over the rocks until they came to the edge of them, and then throw anything into comparatively deep water. And that I’ll be bound is what Gavin Slater did.’
It wa
s obviously useless to look for traces so long after the event. The tide would have washed everything away long ago. They returned to the police station, where they found a further piece of information awaiting them.
This time it was a young constable who had a story to tell. He had been sent to interview a pawnbroker in the town with regard to some goods which were believed to have been stolen. He had inspected the pawnbroker’s stock and had noticed an exceptionally large expanding suitcase. He had made inquiries about this, and had been told that it had been pledged on the previous Monday morning with some other goods. Thinking it better not to pursue the matter further, he had left the shop and reported to the sergeant on duty.
‘Excellent,’ said the superintendent. ‘I should like to see that suitcase for myself. I know the shop well enough. Shall we go along there now, Inspector?’
It seemed to Jimmy a forlorn hope. How Mr Knott’s suitcase could have found its way to a pawnbroker’s seemed difficult to imagine. However, he agreed to the superintendent’s suggestion and they set off.
The pawnbroker greeted the superintendent with some suspicion. The matter of the stolen articles was causing him some annoyance. He had had a constable poking about that morning, and now here was the superintendent himself. He seemed distinctly relieved when the superintendent began to question him about a suitcase.
‘You had a suitcase brought in here last Monday, I understand,’ he said. ‘I’m rather interested in suitcases just now, and I’d like to have a look at it, if you don’t mind.’
The pawnbroker reached up to one of his shelves and lifted down the object in question. He put it on the counter. It was made of compressed fibre and looked rather the worse for wear. But it was undoubtedly an expanding suitcase, and upon the lid of it were stamped the initials ‘E. K.’
Jimmy produced a steel measuring tape and measured the lid of the case. He found it to be twenty-seven inches by seventeen. And this corresponded pretty closely with Lizzie’s guess.
The suitcase was empty and was lined with some white material. Traces of mould were visible on this and Jimmy found that it was distinctly damp to the touch. But what struck him most was that there were several dark stains upon the interior. It was impossible to tell in the present state of the case what had caused these stains.
‘Was this case empty when it was brought to you?’ the superintendent asked.
‘No, sir,’ the pawnbroker replied. ‘There were some clothes and things in it. The lady who brought it said—’
‘Never mind what the lady said. Bring along the other things and let’s have a look at them.’
The pawnbroker disappeared into the back of his shop, to return a few moments later with a miscellaneous collection, which he laid out for the superintendent’s inspection.
Jimmy passed them rapidly in review. A dinner jacket, waistcoat and a pair of black evening trousers. A white shirt, very limp indeed, and a collar, also very limp. A small leather box containing a black evening tie, some studs and links. A pair of patent leather shoes from which the shine had almost entirely disappeared. A safety razor in case which Jimmy recognised as a Novoshave. A sponge bag containing a shaving brush, a stick of shaving soap, a tooth brush, a tube of tooth paste and a nail brush. A pair of silver-backed hair brushes, bearing the initials ‘E. K.’ A small clothes brush. A silver cigarette case. A bunch of keys. A pair of black silk socks.
As the pawnbroker laid these things out, he fingered them suspiciously.
‘I can’t make it out, sir,’ he said. ‘These things were perfectly dry when I put them away, and now they seem all damp.’
‘Yes, they’re damp enough,’ the superintendent replied, exchanging a significant glance with Jimmy. ‘Now, then, what was the name of the lady who brought them to you?’
‘It was Mrs Puddlecombe, of three Hunter’s Rents. I’ve done business with her before, and I’ve always found her a most respectable woman. I asked her where she got the things, and she said that a gentleman who knew her husband …’
‘That’ll do,’ the superintendent interrupted curtly. ‘We’ll hear for ourselves what Mrs Puddlecombe has got to say about it.’ He bundled the various articles into the suitcase, which he shut and fastened. Then he carried it out to the car, Jimmy following him.
A short drive took them to Hunter’s Rents, a row of dilapidated cottages in a mean street. The superintendent hammered on the door of number three, and after an interval a blowzy-looking woman appeared, and stared at her visitors with a hostile expression. ‘Well, and what might you be wanting?’ she asked.
‘We are the police, and we want a word with you, Mrs Puddlecombe,’ the superintendent replied.
‘I’m sure I don’t know what you can want with me,’ she exclaimed defiantly. ‘I ain’t done nuffing wrong that I knows of.’
‘Nobody’s suggesting that you have,’ replied the superintendent sternly. He opened the door of the car and produced the suitcase. ‘Have you ever seen this before?’ he asked.
The woman appeared suddenly confused. ‘Why, it’s just like one my husband brought home on Friday evening,’ she exclaimed ingenuously.
The superintendent nodded. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Now let’s go into the house. I don’t want the neighbours to hear all we’ve got to talk about.’
Rather reluctantly she led them indoors. The house was untidy and not particularly clean. She ran her apron over a couple of chairs in the front room as an indication to her visitors to sit down.
‘Now then, Mrs Puddlecombe,’ said the superintendent briskly. ‘On Monday morning you pawned a suitcase containing some clothes and other things. Where did you get it from?’
‘I came by it honest enough, if that’s what you mean,’ replied Mrs Puddlecombe indignantly. ‘My husband’s a casual labourer. Takes jobs here and there as he can get them. And the things was given him by a gentleman for whom ’e’d been doing a bit of gardening.’
The superintendent shook his head. ‘It’s no good talking to me like that,’ he said. ‘I know perfectly well where the suitcase and its contents came from. What I want to know is how they came into your hands, and I’ll trouble you to tell me the truth. If you don’t you may get yourself and your husband into serious trouble.’
This seemed to take the wind out of Mrs Puddlecombe’s sails. She had apparently never imagined that her statement might be doubted. But she made one more attempt at evasion.
‘My husband didn’t steal them, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ she said.
‘I’m not suggesting that he did,’ the superintendent replied patiently. ‘I want to know where he found them, that’s all.’
She shrugged her shoulders as though to disclaim responsibility. ‘I told Bert he’d better keep the things, in case there was a reward offered. You won’t do anything to him if I tell you, will you, sir?’
‘Not if you tell us the truth,’ the superintendent replied.
This reassured her. ‘Well then, sir, it was like this, you see,’ she said. ‘My ’usband’s got a job over at Paignton. ’E goes over there on ’is bike every morning and comes ’ome at night. The road runs along by the beach, and as he was coming ’ome on Friday he noticed something at the edge of the water. ’E got off ’is bike and went down to ’ave a look and found that blessed suitcase with a lot of things inside it. ’E emptied the water out of it, put it on ’is bike and brought it ’ome. As soon as I set eyes on it I saw it was no good until we had got it dry. So we put the suitcase and all the things in front of the kitchen fire. They weren’t properly dry till Monday morning and then Bert said that as they were no good to us, I’d better take them along to the pawnbroker’s and get what I could on them.’
‘You know very well that you ought to have taken them to the police,’ replied the superintendent sternly. ‘However, we’ll say no more about it this time.’
He and Jimmy drove back to the police station. There they examined the suitcase and its contents in detail. Jimmy’s attention was concentrat
ed upon the stains on the lining of the former. He pointed these out to the superintendent.
‘We shall have to get the experts to say whether that’s blood or not, sir,’ he said. ‘If it is, I think that we can account for the disposal of the body.’
‘I have hopes, since this lot has been found, that parts of the body may be washed ashore as well,’ the superintendent replied.
Jimmy hesitated. It was never good policy to disagree with one’s superiors. But Superintendent Latham was an essentially reasonable man and it was not likely that he would resent a suggestion.
‘I’m not so sure about that, sir,’ said Jimmy. ‘This is what I imagine must have happened. Gavin Slater cut up the body and carried it to that place we were at just now, using the suitcase for the purpose. He may have found it necessary to make two or even several journeys. When he had disposed of the body he packed Mr Knott’s clothes into the suitcase and made a final journey to throw suitcase and all into the sea. He was seen upon one of his journeys about a quarter to six. If that was his last journey with the remains of the body, all these would have been thrown into the sea before six o’clock. In that case, they would have been carried by the tide away from shore. But it must have been after six when he threw in the suitcase, and that accounts for it having been washed ashore.’
‘Very likely you’re right,’ said the superintendent. ‘But in any case I shan’t abandon hope. Now, I expect you want to get back to the Yard and show that suitcase to the experts. If anything else turns up, I’ll let you know at once.’
5
‘I shall be very glad to hear anything that Inspector Waghorn may care to tell me,’ said Dr Priestley genially.
Hanslet and Jimmy were sitting in Dr Priestley’s study on the evening of the day after the discovery of the suitcase. It had been Hanslet’s suggestion that they should call upon the Professor. ‘I’d like to hear his views upon an arrest for murder in the absence of the body,’ he said. ‘I’ll ring him up and tell him that you’ve got a queer case on hand. He’ll let us go round unless he’s busy with one of his scientific puzzles. Why he spends so much time on what nobody but himself can understand, is more than I’ve ever been able to make out. It keeps his mind occupied, I suppose.’