Death on the Highway

by Death on the Highway (retail) (epub)

  “The old lady as well?” asked Garfitt.

  “None of them may actually commit murder, although I shouldn’t think Archie Crewe is beyond suspicion,” said Harrison, “but they organise it. The old lady in particular.”

  May Rich shuddered.

  “The look described by Miss Rich should convince anybody of that,” said Harrison. “When Drina Esberg came back to La Plage, naturally people expected to see Wallace Sinclair with her. Madame, having a deep knowledge of the Crewes and their habits, thought at once that he had been made to disappear. But the Esberg girl told her she had news of him; that he had accepted a very tempting offer to go to America. She half believed it, but I am sorry to say that I am convinced that her first instinctive thought was right. So now we know the victim.”

  “If that’s right, identifications won’t be difficult,” said Garfitt. “But you did all that in La Plage. Why go to Toulon?”

  “I was worried about an American named Hooker,” answered Harrison.

  It was now May Rich’s turn to exclaim in surprise.

  “Mr. Hooker is, according to you, Miss Rich, head over heels in love with Drina Esberg.”

  “Yes.”

  “And he didn’t arrive until the day after she began to sing at the Casino, assisted by Archie Crewe?”

  “Now, Mr. Garfitt,” said Harrison, “would it be fair to assume that she came to La Plage and started this engagement to be ready for the arrival of Mr. Hooker? Mr. Crewe’s deputising suggests a certain amount of haste, doesn’t it?”

  “It sounds possible,” said Garfitt.

  “Suppose the Crewes had suddenly heard of the return—or contemplated return of Mr. Hooker—to this coast. That might have been the reason for their hurried departure from Great Crockham?”

  “Undoubtedly, Harrison,” said Garfitt, eagerly. “But I’m still not certain what you are driving at over Hooker.”

  “If Mr. Hooker is in love with Miss Esberg,” answered Harrison, “we can be certain that he has had an opportunity of meeting her before. If he is an American millionaire, as Miss Rich has told me she has heard he is, the Crewes were likely to be interested in him from their own selfish point of view. Could Miss Esberg have been the decoy?”

  “An innocent one, I hope,” said Mallison.

  “Perhaps,” answered Harrison.

  “And you found out in Toulon that he really was a millionaire,” said Garfitt.

  “Good,” said Harrison; “that is certainly one of the things I did find out. The Toulon police were extraordinarily helpful. Their telephone to Paris was going most of the evening. Here’s a name you will have to remember, Garfitt, M. Manet, one of the very shining lights of the Paris force. He made things move at a terrific speed.”

  “Tell us about Mr. Hooker, Mr. Harrison,” said May Rich.

  “Hooker is a young American, very well-off and few ties. He spends a fair amount of time in Paris. When I asked M. Manet to let me know something about him he said nothing would be easier. It did not seem long before he was back on the telephone and was telling me that, by the greatest good fortune, he knew the managers of the branches of the important American banking concerns. The first one he spoke to told him that Mr. Hooker was a client. The manager said he was not surprised to hear from the police about Hooker, indeed he himself had been very worried about him.”

  “That’s curious.”

  “It appears,” continued Harrison, “that the manager knew a little of Hooker’s movements. Hooker had spent a great deal of time in Cannes at the end of last year. He had also spent a fair amount of money, and as the manager said that he was not an extravagant kind of man, this seemed somewhat unusual. Hooker had been living in Paris for some time past in a normal manner when, a few days ago, he suddenly asked for a million francs in cash, saying that he was suddenly called to Cannes. The manager told him he thought it imprudent to take such a large sum. He would arrange for it to be deposited in Cannes for him to draw upon. But Hooker insisted on the money being produced as soon as possible, and his banking account was such that the manager was forced to comply. Hooker himself called for the money. The manager asked him if he was still going to Cannes, and was told ‘immediately.’ He thought Hooker looked more cheerful than usual, but still he was very worried. He nearly told Manet himself about it, but Hooker was the type of man to be able to decide things for himself, and if he had found out that the manager had been talking to the police, he might have transferred his account elsewhere.”

  “And the Crewes know something about that million francs?” asked Garfitt.

  “I think we can assume so,” answered Harrison. “The invaluable Madame, who seems to have a positive gift for filling in gaps, told me that the Crewes could be definitely identified with Cannes. So the connection with Hooker seems pretty well complete. Of course we don’t know everything. For example, the reason for his sudden return to Cannes with the money. Obviously the Crewes didn’t expect it. They may have suggested some scheme for which he had to put up the money, and he had gone back to Paris to think it over. Then he suddenly made up his mind in their favour. Still, that’s a minor detail. We shall know that later. One further thing, however, we do know, Mr, Hooker is in a pretty tight corner.”

  “Because of me, of course?” asked Miss Rich, apprehensively.

  “Because of what happened yesterday afternoon, shall we say?” said Harrison. “The promptness with which he came to your help suggests that he himself was suspicious of the Crewes. The bank manager had a high opinion of his judgment. But he interfered with the Crewes, and that’s a dangerous thing to do. They don’t like people who meddle. I shouldn’t be surprise if Mr. Hooker is no longer staying at the Sport Hotel.”

  “Very wise if he isn’t,” said Mallison.

  “I agree,” commented Harrison. “But that isn’t quite what I meant. I feel that he is being forced to accept the hospitality of the Crewes—somewhere in Toulon.”

  “That sounds unpleasant,” said Garfitt.

  “So unpleasant,” answered Harrison, “that M. Manet himself is coming from Paris to look around. There’s a story for you, Garfitt. I hope you’re grateful.”

  “I certainly am,” was the reply.

  “Of course I had other inquiries to make in Toulon,” continued Harrison. “In particular, I was following up another hint given me by Madame. Toulon Harbour, according to her, is the crooks’ burying ground. An ugly thought. She showed me a paragraph in a local paper of two bodies washed up quite recently. I thought I had better ask the Toulon police about them. One of them, they told me, had certainly died from violence. He had not been drowned. He had died from a nasty blow on the back of the head. I asked them if they had taken a photograph. They produced it and let me see it.”

  “Did you recognise it?” asked Garfitt.

  “Hardly,” said Harrison; “for I had only seen the man once before, and then it was a back view.”

  “You had seen him before?” asked Garfitt, incredulously. “A man who had just been picked out of Toulon Harbour?”

  “It was only following another line of thought suggested by Madame,” said Harrison, apologetically. “l asked the Toulon police if the Cannes police had a copy of the photograph, and when I found they had I asked the Toulon police to ask the Cannes police to go immediately to a certain address and see if they could get it identified.”

  “Pretty good,” said Mallison.

  “Again it was all Madame,” said Harrison. “She told me that the Crewes had an address in Cannes, as I have just said, and I took the precaution of getting that address before I left the café. That was where the Cannes police were to call. It was really quite simple. The most important thing was that, when the Cannes police telephoned later, I was entirely justified. in the line of thought I was following. It was the man I expected it to be.”

  “And his name?” asked Garfitt.

  “Jules,” answered Harrison. “His surname doesn’t matter. Henry will tell you who he is.”
/>   “Jules, sir?” said Henry, in bewilderment.

  “Overstead House.”

  “Good heavens, sir, the Frenchman who was looking after the roses when you called?”

  “That’s the man.”

  “And wearing new boots?” continued Henry.

  “I think that disposes of our gardener as the murderer, Henry,” said Harrison. “I better explain,” he continued, turning to the others. “When the Crewes were at Overstead House, they had a French servant with them, named Jules. The only time I saw him was in the garden when I was going up to the house for lunch. That accounts for my solitary back view. But it was the man’s boots that interested me. They were very new and hardly the wear for gardening—that would have shown a very un-French lack of frugality. It was obvious that the man’s ordinary pair of boots were not available. The reason, as I soon discovered, was that Wallace Sinclair had been wearing them when he was murdered.”

  “I should have thought that would have been evidence against your gardener, Jules,” said Mallison.

  “I’m not suggesting he wasn’t implicated,” answered Harrison. “But it wouldn’t have been necessary to dispose of him in Toulon Harbour if he had been the murderer, pure and simple. The Crewes would have been quite capable of leaving him to his fate if that had been the case. No, as far as I can see, Jules himself was a dangerous piece of evidence to have about the place, and so he had to be got rid of, too.”

  “And you’re quite certain it was Jules?” asked Garfitt.

  “Quite,” answered Harrison. “The Cannes police showed the photograph to a person who was looking after the flat belonging to the Crewes, and she nearly fainted when she saw it. She wept over her Jules, they said. I expect she was a particular friend of his. Just for safety’s sake, the police are keeping an eye on her and the Cannes flat. It would be better or the Crewes to know nothing about it at present. I think we can claim to be one move in advance of Mrs. Crewe, and that is pretty good progress.”

  “So now we know the identity of two bodies, one in England and the other in Toulon,” said Garfitt. “We know, too, that they are both connected with the Crewe family. That’s certainly good progress. You think the Crewes are responsible for both murders—”

  “Do I?” asked Harrison.

  “Of course you do,” replied Garfitt, vigorously. “But you haven’t any proof or, for that matter, any motive. What are you going to do next?”

  “Leave it to Mrs. Crewe,” answered Harrison.

  “She’s sure to be helpful,” said Garfitt, with heavy irony.

  “That’s true,” said Harrison, without resentment at the tone. “There was a story I read once which impressed me greatly when I was younger. It was about a general who was planning a campaign and was trusting to his knowledge of the special characteristics of the general against him. He had made all his arrangements when he recalled an episode when they were at a staff college together. The episode gave him a clue to the psychology of the other man, a clue which meant altering his whole plan. He did alter it and won the campaign hands down.”

  “A jolly story, Harrison,” said Garfitt; “but I don’t see how it applies.”

  “It doesn’t apply literally, of course,” was the answer. “But Mrs. Crewe and I are conducting a campaign against each other and she believes in studying the psychology of her opponents. She has had one effort at me already, and I can assure you it was a pretty intelligent one. But incidentally, it was a warning. I know her method now. All we have to do is to make our plans accordingly.”

  “Sorry, Harrison,” said Garfitt, “I deserved a genuine snub for what I said. It seems a jolly sound idea—if you can carry it out.”

  “It means keeping one’s eyes pretty wide open,” answered Harrison. “But you see what I mean. Mrs. Crewe—and I think we can leave Archie and Netta out of this—because it’s obvious the old woman has all the brain and, I should think, most of the driving force—knows that I am hard at work on her track. The very fact that I’ve followed her from Overstead House here, and also that she now knows I have spent the night at Toulon, shows that I am being pretty active, and that she must make her plans to beat me. Of course, she has had stray shots at removing me already, but I don’t expect she thought anything much would come of them. She would have been extraordinarily pleased if success had come so easily and, like a good general, she neglects no opportunity, however long the odds. But she must be intending to do something much better planned than the throwing of acid at Waterloo Station or the beating-up in the lane last night. They were merely polite hints.”

  “A pleasant idea of good manners,” said Miss Rich, indignantly.

  “Well, we can assume that Mrs. Crewe has studied my methods,” continued Harrison, “and the first thing she will have realised is that, when one of my cases reaches a crisis, I like to work entirely alone. As my removal is her most satisfactory solution, possibly her only solution, she will arrange accordingly.”

  “And so will you,” said Garfitt.

  “Steady, Garfitt,” answered Harrison, with a smile. “I can’t go against my nature. That would be bad psychology.”

  “But this time you mustn’t work alone,” said Miss Rich.

  “The risk is too great,” said Yvette Mallison.

  “A risk isn’t so great if you know exactly what that risk is and are ready for it,” answered Harrison. “Mrs. Crewe is expecting me to work alone and, as I need her help, that’s the only way of solving the case.”

  “But it’s madness,” said Mallison.

  “It’s common sense,” replied Harrison. “I know what Mrs. Crewe has in her mind and she doesn’t know what I have. Still, it’s not a matter I’m going to argue with any of you. You’ve all promised to do as you are told and I’ve made up my mind.”

  “Very well,” said Garfitt, and the others were silent.

  “Now Mrs. Crewe must have had some reason for asking me to go and see her this afternoon,” said Harrison. “But she asked Henry as well. It’s too obvious to be a trap.”

  “You never know,” said Mallison cautiously.

  “If you feel like that,” answered Harrison, “I don’t see why the gang shouldn’t go together—except, of course, the ladies.”

  “Splendid,” said Garfitt.

  “There’s safety in numbers on the road,” said Harrison, “and you can keep an eye on me during the interview. We shall be quite an imposing army.”

  “Good,” said Garfitt, “I’m looking forward to a good sight of the old witch.”

  “You’ll be surprised what a charming—and cultured, old lady she really is,” said Harrison.

  Without thinking, May Rich rubbed her bruised arm and looked questioningly at Harrison.

  “A not unusual mixture, great intelligence with a streak of cruelty,” he said. “Now just to round things off, I may as well tell you of two other things I did in Toulon. I had a chat with the chemist who is most trusted by the police, and he was extremely helpful. Then, again, with the help of the police, I spoke to the fire chief of the town and arranged for his help, in case of need.”

  “I assume this is all part of the plan?” said Garfitt.

  “Yes,” answered Harrison. “Moves we are making in readiness for what Mrs. Crewe is going to do. The fire chief agreed that, at any time I liked to fix, a friend or friends of mine, he didn’t seem to mind how many, should occupy, with one of his experts, the look-out post from which they find out in what district a fire is taking place.”

  “I suppose no questions are allowed on those activities?” asked Garfitt.

  “A journalist will draw his own conclusions,” answered Harrison.

  “I expect it’s a lovely view,” said Garfitt.

  “Exactly,” answered Harrison. “Now that seems to be all I have to report. We ought to be thinking of calling on Mrs. Crewe pretty soon. Mrs. Mallison, I think it would be wise if you and Miss Rich kept well within doors. I don’t expect they will try anything when I’m not here, but we mus
t neglect nothing.”

  “We will,” said Yvette Mallison.

  “I feel certain there’s something on your mind, Henry,” said Harrison, turning to him.

  “It’s nothing, sir.”

  “Go ahead, Henry,” continued Harrison. “It may be something I have missed.”

  “One twenty-four,” said Henry.

  “Oh yes,” said Harrison, “I’m so sorry. I certainly should have mentioned one twenty-four. I am inclined to think that is the real reason why M. Manet has decided to come to Toulon himself.”

  Chapter XIX

  Tea With Mrs. Crewe

  The four men were soon making their way to the Sport Hotel. After some discussion it was decided that a visit should first be paid to Madame’s. Not only had Mallison said that it was essential for him to call in there for a moment, but Garfitt had also gathered that a copy of the latest issue of the Continental Edition of the Daily Flight might be obtainable. “I can give up food for quite a while,” he said; “I might even be able to give up drink, but I can’t give up the mental stimulus of a newspaper.”

  “Or of that disgusting-looking mackintosh,” said Mallison, pointing to the offending object, slung as usual across Garfitt’s shoulder.

  “I won’t say it might rain,” answered Garfitt, “because such a remark may not be tactful on this coast. But think how useful my little friend is to me. It is a marvellous portmanteau. It provides excellent cover, and might even prove an offensive weapon if hurled suddenly at an unsuspecting gunman.”

  “Rubbish,” said Mallison.

  “Perhaps,” said Garfitt, taking the remark literally; “but it needs genius to make something useful out of rubbish.”

  Meanwhile Harrison and Henry were walking a little way behind the others.

  “I think I can see light, sir,” said Henry, softly.

  “Good for you, Henry,” answered Harrison. “There’s a lot of light about now. Still, I think we’ll wait until after we have seen Mrs. Crewe. Let them quarrel about the mackintosh. It will be a relief to all of us.”