‘I suppose the only difficulty from your point of view is that it’s rather isolated. I haven’t noticed any buses passing since I’ve been here.’
‘Bless you, we don’t find it lonely, sir,’ the housekeeper said. ‘There’s plenty enough to do to keep the both of us busy.’
‘Isn’t shopping rather a problem?’
‘Everything gets delivered, sir. And if we want anything in a hurry like there’s always the telephone, or maybe Mr. Slade’ll get himself driven into Bridgton.’
Lying on top of a heap of garden rubbish that had been gathered together at the side of the path was a crumpled poster. Stooping, Tremaine read the announcement of a social and amateur dramatic performance advertised for three nights previously.
‘I see there’s a chance of an evening’s entertainment without going over the bridge into the city. That’s if you can get away, of course. Seabury village hall,’ he quoted from the poster. ‘Seabury isn’t far from here, is it?’
‘About five miles, sir. Mr. Slade’s a very easy gentleman to get on with. Never complains if we want to go out. Not that it’s often. We aren’t ones for the pictures. But the social was something special—Mr. Slade knew we’d been looking forward to it.’
‘I see it went on until quite late. Rather awkward for the buses, I expect, being a country service.’
‘Bless you, that was all arranged, sir. All of us had coaches back to where we lived. Had it all in style, we did.’
As he walked back into the house Tremaine studied his companion’s good-tempered features.
‘I must say Mr. Slade seems very lucky in his choice of housekeeper and gardener,’ he observed.
‘It’s a pleasure to work for a gentleman like him, sir. Never makes a fuss. And you might expect him to more than most, him being a cripple and suffering all the time.’
‘Yes, it must be a dreadful trial for him.’
When he re-entered the lounge Slade looked up at him with an expectant smile.
‘Well, what’s the verdict?’
‘I think you already know. I envy you both the house and Mr. and Mrs. Sheppard. They seem a really genuine and simple-hearted old couple.’
‘Yes, I’m well looked after,’ Slade agreed. ‘You must come and call on us again. Don’t forget I want to keep in touch with the way things are going.’
‘I won’t forget,’ Tremaine promised.
He went away from the house with the feeling that he had seen a new and kindlier Martin Slade and that despite his physical limitations the other had succeeded in making himself very comfortable.
He did not think his visit had been wasted. Although he had learned nothing unmistakably new that bore upon Hardene’s death, he had nevertheless garnered a certain amount of food for thought concerning it.
17
EXPLANATION FOR AN ALIBI
HE HAD RECROSSED the bridge and was walking briskly along the road bordering the downs not far from the turning that led to Hardene’s surgery when he saw Margaret Royman in front of him. He quickened his pace still further and then saw a man step out from the shelter of the gateway of one of the big houses fronting the road and walk to meet her.
It was Rex Linton. The reporter plainly had no eyes for anyone but the girl and did not even glance in his direction.
Automatically Tremaine slackened his stride. He came almost to a standstill and then, having made up his mind, moved forward again.
As he drew nearer both of them turned at the sound of his footsteps on the pavement and he saw sudden recognition and dismay in their faces.
He felt a sense of disappointment but he did not allow it to show in his expression.
‘Good afternoon.’
There was a sullen flare of antagonism in Linton’s eyes and he did not return the greeting.
‘So you haven’t caught the murderer yet.’
Tremaine ignored the sarcasm behind the words.
‘Not yet,’ he returned mildly. ‘But we have hopes.’
‘Indeed?’ Linton stared at him challengingly. ‘That’s interesting. News is getting short. Your friend the Chief Inspector hasn’t been very helpful up to now.’
‘I’m sure you’ll find him reasonable enough when there are developments to report.’
‘Maybe. It’s beginning to look as though I’ll have to find my own developments. I daresay, for instance, that the Courier’s readers will be glad to know about your being here. It’ll give them something to talk about.’
The girl instinctively put a hand on his arm.
‘Rex—please.’
Linton did not respond to her gesture. He stood facing Tremaine with more than a little of the pugnacious in his attitude.
‘It’ll make quite a story, won’t it? Well-known amateur arrives in Bridgton. Working with Scotland Yard because neither the Yard’s men nor the local police know what to do.’
‘Dear me,’ Tremaine observed mildly, ‘you do sound an aggressive young man.’
Margaret Royman made an attempt to retrieve the situation.
‘I’m sorry, Mr. Tremaine. Rex is upset. He doesn’t really mean it.’
‘I rather think he does, my dear. And as a matter of fact he’s made quite a point. I’m not anxious to have any newspaper publicity. There are good reasons why I should stay in the background.’ A much sharper note came into his voice and his eyes held the younger man’s. ‘If I were you, Mr. Linton, I’d think very hard before making use of my name in your newspaper. For Miss Royman’s sake if not for your own.’
A watchful expression came into Linton’s face.
‘What are you getting at?’
‘At the moment both Miss Royman and yourself can be included under the heading of suspected persons—for reasons I needn’t remind you of. I wouldn’t like matters to go any further—just because my name found its way into the columns of the Evening Courier through a misunderstanding.’
Rex Linton’s lips curled slightly.
‘In other words it’s blackmail. I keep quiet or else.’
‘It’s a precaution,’ Tremaine said. ‘Just to make sure you don’t do anything regrettable before I’ve had the opportunity of a really effective talk with you.’
‘Just what might an—effective—talk be?’
Tremaine did not make a direct reply.
‘Suppose the three of us make an arrangement to meet for coffee at a quarter to eleven tomorrow? I daresay you’ll know how to deal with your editor—especially if you tell him that you’ve the prospect of learning something interesting about Doctor Hardene.’
Linton had lost something of his guarded manner. He was looking puzzled. He glanced at the girl and she gave a slight nod of agreement.
‘All right,’ he said slowly. ‘If that’s what you want. Where do we meet?’
‘At the Elm Tree. I understand that it’s a favourite place of assignation in Bridgton. I’ll leave it to you to decide where we go from there. As long as we can talk without being disturbed for a while I’ll be quite satisfied. Now I don’t doubt that you’ve a great deal to say to each other so I’ll not detain you. I’ll look forward to our meeting tomorrow.’
He nodded and turned away before either of them could make any further comment. He knew that both of them were wondering what he had in his mind and he did not wish to face a cross-examination just then.
When he reached Hardene’s house he found Jonathan Boyce on the point of departure and they returned to the city together.
In their hotel room that night Boyce lay back on his bed and contemplated the ceiling. He pursed his lips as though in the act of whistling a tune but he gave forth no sound.
‘What’s on your mind, Jonathan?’ Tremaine enquired.
Boyce grinned and twisted to look at him.
‘The same that’s on yours,’ he returned. ‘The question of who killed Doctor Graham Hardene of Bridgton and why. Plus a few rather more personal thoughts about how useful a superintendent’s pay would be.’
‘You ha
ven’t given very much away up to now,’ Tremaine went on slowly. ‘But I suppose you’ve a few theories?’
‘Nasty things—theories,’ Boyce said. ‘Don’t like ’em. Never did. You now, you’re different. Amateurs can afford to take a chance or two because there’s nobody to stand them on the carpet if they happen to be wrong.’
Tremaine considered the implications of this last sentence for a moment or two.’
‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘What is it that Mrs. Colver knows that she hasn’t told us?’
Boyce nodded approvingly.
‘Full marks. She’s holding out on us right enough. If I was given to having theories—which I’m not—I’d say that she had something on Hardene and that she knows quite a bit about that fifty pounds a month he used to draw.’
‘You knew that she has a son?’
‘Yes. I saw that photograph in her room.’ A smile touched Boyce’s lips fleetingly. ‘Sanatorium in the background, wasn’t it? I noticed you were having a good look at it. She couldn’t do much to help him on a housekeeper’s pay and the prospect of a little extra something, even if there was a risk attached to it, must have been very tempting. Problem: what was it she knew that made Hardene pay up?’
‘Suppose we speak to her about it tomorrow?’ Tremaine said, tentatively, and Boyce stroked his chin thoughtfully.
‘It’s an idea. Maybe we will.’
There was silence for a while and then Tremaine said:
‘What about Masters?’
‘I’m expecting to hear from him at any moment now. He was sweating this morning if ever I saw a man sweat. I’ve an idea it won’t be long before something cracks.’
Boyce sounded unconcerned and Tremaine regarded him a trifle reproachfully. For a man anticipating promotion, and therefore with everything to gain by doing himself justice, Jonathan seemed to be displaying surprisingly little emotion.
He knew, however, that appearances were deceptive. If the taciturn Jonathan was apparently at peace with the world it was because he was satisfied that he was beginning to see daylight. He was, in addition, expecting something to turn up—not in the Micawber-like manner, out of the blue, but as a result of certain activities he had himself caused to be carried out.
Something did turn up. Inspector Parkin, when they met him in accordance with routine at police headquarters, was labouring under an excitement he was doing his utmost to hold in check for the sake of his dignity.
‘I imagine there’s been news of Hardene,’ Boyce said, eyeing him with an amused smile.
‘There has that, sir,’ Parkin announced. ‘I tried to get you at your hotel but you’d just left. Not that it mattered, since you were coming here anyway, but I thought you’d like to have the news as soon as it came in.’
As they seated themselves around the now familiar table in the Chief Constable’s room, the inspector laid a closely typed report upon it.
‘There are still a few gaps—we haven’t had time to cover everything—but there’s enough to give us a pretty sound line on what Hardene was up to. I’ll just give you the outline now, sir; I daresay you’ll be wanting to read the details for yourself in your own time.’
‘All right,’ Boyce nodded. ‘Go ahead.’
‘It’s confirmed that Hardene took his medical finals at Edinburgh. After that he had a house surgeon’s job for a time at a hospital in Brum and then he went off to Canada. There was never any official action but it seems that he left under a bit of a cloud. Something about a shortage in the funds of a sports club he belonged to. Apparently the loss was made up by one of the other surgeons, but it was made plain to Hardene that it was a case of resign or else.’
‘Hence Canada?’ Boyce observed. ‘So he started off on the wrong foot, eh?’
‘That was only the beginning of it, sir,’ Parkin went on. ‘We sent his prints across as soon as we’d traced him that far. Hardene had a record on the other side; that’s why we were able to get results so quickly. He didn’t go under his own name—called himself Lacey. Seems there’s quite a bit known about him. He did one twelve months’ stretch for a bank job in Toronto and there’s still a warrant out against him for a job that happened after he got out again.’
‘Lone wolf?’ Boyce said, and Parkin shook his head.
‘No. He was mixed up with a gang that specialized in bank smashing. There were three of them in it. They did pretty well out of it, too, until an affair in Montreal that nearly put them all away. Something went wrong at the last minute and one of the gang slipped off a wall and broke his leg when they were trying to make a getaway.’
Parkin paused for a moment or two and flicked through the pages of the report.
‘There’s nothing definite about it,’ he went on, ‘but when this chap was sent down he swore that he’d been pushed from the wall and that it’d been Lacey who’d done it in order to slow up the chase and give himself and the third member of the gang a better chance of getting clear.’
‘H’m.’ Boyce frowned. ‘A double-cross. Not very nice. I take it that Lacey—or Hardene—and the other fellow did manage to get away?’
‘They got away all right and went to earth. As I said just now, sir, they’re still on the wanted list over there, but Montreal says that Lacey was believed to have got out of the country a year or two back and they notified Scotland Yard. They knew he was English, although they didn’t have his real name, and thought he might have made for his home ground.’
‘In that case Records will have the full story,’ Boyce said. ‘We’ll check back and tie up the ends. If Montreal didn’t send to us until a couple of years ago it means that Lacey managed to get back into this country again without being spotted, changed his name to Hardene once more, and settled down to doctoring here as a respectable citizen. Daresay his share of the loot helped to set him up.’
‘That’s about it, sir. Nobody’d have any reason to suspect him, and he might have been genuinely trying to go straight. His only worry must have been over whether the pal he’d ditched was going to show up one day and make things awkward.’
Boyce lifted an eyebrow, sensing more in Parkin’s words than their apparent meaning.
‘Is that where Marton comes into the picture?’
‘More or less, sir.’ Parkin glanced at Tremaine, who had been closely following what he had been saying. ‘In view of Mr. Tremaine’s interest in him—and that business of the gun, of course—I thought it might be worth while checking on Marton at the same time. It came off. Marton wasn’t a member of the gang, but it seems that he was doing a stretch at the same place as the fellow who was left behind by Hardene and the other chap. They must have got talking it over. Daresay it was a case of the one who’d been double-crossed not being able to keep his mouth shut about the revenge he was going to take when he got out. Marton was released first and came over here to find Hardene. He must have had some idea where to look and he knew Lacey’s real name.’
‘That might have come out before the bank job was pulled,’ Boyce nodded. ‘The three of them might have got confidential after a drink or two—talked about what they were going to do when they’d made enough of a pile.’
‘Perhaps the Montreal job was intended to be the last anyway,’ Parkin said. ‘Things were beginning to get too hot for them, and they were planning to pull out. Daresay Hardene wished he’d kept quiet,’ he added grimly.
‘Yes. It looks as though Marton was bleeding him all right—that’s why he didn’t need to do any work. In the end Hardene took a chance and shot him. Maybe because Marton was going the way of all blackmailers and asking for a bit more each time, or maybe because he was scared that Marton intended to pass on the news of his whereabouts when the other merchant came out and that then there’d be an extra mouth to feed. What about Number Three, by the way? Is he out yet?’
Once more Parkin consulted the report in front of him.
‘Came out just over two months ago.’ He added, significantly. ‘Last place he was seen was Halifa
x and he was believed to be trying to make his way over here.’
‘Description?’
‘Could be Fenn,’ Parkin said ruefully. ‘Fits him, anyway. Names aren’t much good, of course—these gentry are the sort who pick a new one every few weeks. Prints would settle it—if we could get ’em.’
‘Nothing new come in?’
‘Not a thing, sir. Chap seems to have made himself scarce all right. We’ll get him sooner or later, but in the meantime I don’t fancy catching Sir Robert’s eye.’
‘I see what you mean,’ Boyce said. ‘In view of this latest piece of news he’s going to expect Fenn to be laid by the heels before much more water has passed under that elegant bridge of yours. And if it doesn’t happen he’ll be wanting somebody’s head.’
Tremaine leaned forward.
‘You think it was Fenn who did the killing, Jonathan?’
The Yard man returned him the wily smile of the old campaigner.
‘I’m not making any statements—yet. I’m only saying that the situation looks promising.’
‘But there isn’t much doubt about it, is there, sir?’ Parkin put in anxiously. ‘After all, there’s plenty of evidence that Fenn was out for revenge; he didn’t make any bones about it.’
‘Assuming that Fenn is the third member of the gang.’
‘I know it still remains to be proved, sir, but it makes everything fit. Either he had a good idea where to look for Hardene already or Marton tipped him off before he was killed. He contacted Hardene after a few enquiries at the Seamen’s Mission and the two of them arranged to meet somewhere quiet where they wouldn’t be likely to be seen. Maybe Fenn rang up during the day and fixed it, even if he didn’t actually call at the house. It might have given Hardene the idea of saying that he’d had an emergency call to explain why he had to go out.’
‘It’s sound enough,’ Boyce admitted.
‘Why did Hardene take that gun with him if it wasn’t because he knew he might be running into trouble?’ Parkin went on. ‘It doesn’t look as though he intended to use it deliberately, otherwise it wouldn’t have been in his bag—he’d have kept it handy. He wanted it as a stand-by in case Fenn tried to be awkward, but my guess is that he wanted to avoid trouble and buy Fenn off if he could.’
In At The Death Page 17