“Things are beginning to happen, Mr. Vereker,” replied Heather. “What do you think’s the latest?”
“Don’t keep me in suspense, Heather. I’m trembling to hear the latest.”
“Well, I thought I’d run up to the bungalow this evening and put Mr. Ephraim Noy through a few mental jerks. I was going to give him a strenuous half-hour about his past life in America.”
“Before you go any further, Inspector, can you tell me if Noy got into any trouble up at Doncaster in Yorkshire some time back?”
“Yes, he did, but it wasn’t anything very serious, that is, serious in comparison with the crime of murder. He was collared by the excise authorities for being in possession of illicit spirits. On searching his rooms they found a small spirit still and a barrel of wash. The Government chemist analysed a sample and reported it to be crude stuff, real fire water. Noy was fined heavily, and paid the fine in lieu of going to prison for six months. You see, he had gone back to his American tricks. It had become a bad habit with him.”
“Does that sort of distillation pay?” asked Vereker.
“You bet it does. Spirits made in such a way cost only half a crown a gallon at the most. The workers in an industrial area like whisky, but can’t afford to buy it at present prices. The illicit distiller can manage to get a return of a pound for every bob he spends. The game is so profitable that it is increasing at an alarming rate. In 1934 the Customs and Excise made a big haul in Edmonton, another up at Skipton in Yorkshire and another at Hampstead. In 1936 at Liverpool and at Sheffield.”
“Thanks, this is most interesting information, but what about our friend Noy? Have you caught him at the liquor game again?”
“No. I went up to the bungalow with malice prepense. To my surprise the front door of the shack was wide open. I knocked but got no answer. Then I strolled round the garden to make sure that Ephraim wasn’t among the gooseberry bushes. Returning to the bungalow, I took the liberty of walking right in. Not a soul about the place. I entered the living-room and found it in a state of terrible disorder. Chairs upset, table knocked over, broken crockery all over the floor and splashes of blood on the floor and wallpaper.
“And did you find Noy’s dead body?” asked Vereker, unable to restrain his impatience.
“No, not a sign of Noy. Whatever had happened, he had vanished. There had evidently been a terrible struggle and serious wounds inflicted, judging from the quantity of blood about.”
“I saw and spoke to him this morning,” explained Vereker. “He was all right then, though rather disturbed at the idea of a further police interrogatory. He was frank enough with me about his doings in America and hinted that you probably knew all about his exploits at Doncaster. It’s a rum business. What do you think has happened, Heather?”
“God knows,” replied Heather.
“Do you think someone has done him in and removed the body?” asked Vereker.
“That explanation struck me as probable. Again, there may only have been a desperate fight, and Noy has made himself scarce. It probably has some connection with this Yarham business. I’ve always thought that Noy was implicated in it. I didn’t quite like the man’s story of his discovery of the bodies of Thurlow and Martin. Godbold, the local constable, was of the same opinion, and he’s a shrewd chap is Godbold. No frills or fancies about him. Godbold’s line is hard facts!”
“He’d appeal to you, Heather,” remarked Vereker with a smile. “Relying on my stupidly unorthodox methods, I can’t at present connect up Noy with the Yarham murders. Tell me just how you arrived at your theory that he had a finger in the pie.”
“I think I’ve got a little clue to his connection,” replied Heather complacently. “You’d call it an evidentiary item. Evidentiary was always one of your favourite words. It used to annoy me till I got used to your funny habits.”
With this remark, Heather produced from his pocket a sheet of note-paper and handed it to Vereker.
‘‘Have a squint at that and tell me what you think of it,” he added.
Vereker read the note, which ran: “Situation getting worse. Advise you to clear out.”
“By jove, Heather, I apologize. This has some indirect bearing on our case. It’s written in exactly the same block capitals as the note found on Clarry Martin’s body. What are you going to do about it?”
“I’ve sent out a message to all stations round to keep a look out for Noy. I’ve given them a description of the man, and he’s such a striking figure that you could spot him in a Derby crowd. Once we lay hands on Uncle Sam, as you called him, things’ll begin to hum.”
“Possibly, and possibly not,” commented Vereker quietly, “but I wish you luck, Heather. By the way, when we made our usual bet, I didn’t stipulate the size of the cask of beer that I was prepared to pay for. I now make it nine gallons.”
“Nine gallons be hanged! Nothing less than thirty-six will liquidate your debt, Mr. Vereker.”
“I’ll risk it, Heather. Make it thirty-six, but you must make your packet of ‘Players’ into a fifty box.”
“Agreed,” replied Heather. “You seem confident of winning, Mr. Vereker. Made any new discoveries?”
“Several important ones. I believe I’ve discovered the explanation of the spirit music heard by Thurlow and his niece on the night of Thurlow’s disappearance. I’m not quite certain, but I think I’ve spotted the mysterious musician. I’ve an inkling as to how Thurlow vanished from the house without the trouble of dematerializing. Then there’s the poltergeist to be explained away, and since I spoke to you last I’ve seen a ghost.”
“Great Scott!” exclaimed Heather. “I see you’re going to make a thorough ass of yourself in this case, Mr. Vereker. What with a poulterer’s ghost, spirit music, and seeing spooks, I don’t know what’s come over you. You used to be quite sensible, too, in some things. By the way, if you’d like to have a look at the mess in Noy’s bungalow, you’d better do so now. I can let you have the key to the place. I locked up everything and brought the keys with me. You might pick up a few hints that would put you on the right track, instead of wasting your time on spooks. Might I ask when and where you saw your last spectre?”
“In this very study, Heather. I had fallen asleep and was wakened by a flash of light on my face. I wasn’t particularly anxious to see a ghost, but when I opened my eyes and got used to the darkness, I spotted her. It was certainly a woman. I reckoned that the lady was going to run through the poltergeist programme once more, and having flashed a small electric torch round the room, was surprised to see me asleep in this easy wicker chair. She must have heard me move, and it must have disclosed to her that I had wakened and was taking notice. She, therefore, stood deadly still for a few moments, probably stiff with fright at the thought of being discovered. I put my hand in my pocket for my electric torch, but remembered I’d left it on the hall table earlier in the evening. There was nothing for it but to try and reach the electric light switch on the other side of the room. I was sitting by the window, you see. I made a desperate bound to get to that switch, but she was gone like a flash. I didn’t see her go, because I was intent on getting at the electric light switch without crashing into any of the furniture. I’m pretty certain, however, that she slipped through the half-open door. I stepped into the dark passage outside immediately and was quite certain that I heard the sound of scurrying footsteps below. I jumped to the conclusion that she had made her way into the wine cellar, and I scuttled down after her as fast as I could. I was either too late or had taken the wrong turning, for she wasn’t in the cellarage.”
“So you knocked the neck off a bottle to get over your disappointment, I suppose,” commented Heather airily.
“I felt like it, I can assure you. Anyhow, I’d made a thorough botch of my job, and what’s more I haven’t got to the bottom of the mystery yet.”
“It must have been a real ghost after all, Mr. Vereker,” said the inspector with mock gravity. “But about this key to Noy’s bungalow. Are
you going to take it and have a look around the place?”
“No, Heather, I’m not. I’m not very much interested in Ephraim Noy’s exploits at the moment, though I may be more so, later. I’d only be poaching on your preserves. We’ve taken absolutely different lines in this case, and I don’t think they are going to converge as they’ve done on some former occasions. But there goes the gong for dinner. You’d better stay and share it with me. There’s always enough and to spare.”
“Thanks, I will. Anything good to drink?”
“What would you like?”
“Anything but lime-juice and its nasty relations. About this woman in white you saw. What was she like? Did she resemble any of the servants or any woman in the village?”
“It was too dark to see her features. It’s strange that you should have asked me that question, Heather, because I’ve been very much troubled by the cut of the intruder. I can’t explain why, but it struck me that she bore a strong resemblance to Miss Thurlow. She was about the same height, and the pose was rather characteristic. Then I thought I smelt a faint trace of scent in the air, and that scent was certainly the same as Miss Thurlow’s favourite brand. Mind you, this may be pure fancy on my part, and as for the scent, that’s easily explained when you remember that Miss Thurlow uses this room a great deal.”
“Oh yes, I spotted that scent on coming into the room this very evening. You can’t make much out of that. And now I’m going to give you a helping hand. I hate to see a pupil floundering about on the wrong lines. To ease your mind, I can tell you that Miss Thurlow is in London. I had my suspicions about her sudden departure from Yarham, so I’ve had her kept under observation.”
“Well I’m jolly thankful for the information, Heather. I’m rather favourably impressed by Miss Eileen Thurlow, and I’d hate to think she had any hand in this ghost business.”
“Then that’s satisfactorily settled, but don’t let your favourable impressions get any stronger. You’ve been in the danger zone before, rather too frequently in my opinion, and it would never do for an amateur detective to fall in love. It’s against all the rules of the game, even in detective yarns.”
“I don’t read them, so I don’t profess to know. Now I think we’ll go into the dining-room.”
“And discuss the right kind of spirits over our grub,” concluded Heather as he gave an extra twirl to his pointed moustaches.
Chapter Fifteen
Next day, about noon, Ricardo arrived in his car at Old Hall Farm. He looked tired from his recent activities and the strain of the journey, but greeted Vereker with his usual perky cheerfulness.
“You’re looking excited about something, Algernon. I’m not conceited enough to think it’s at my return,” he remarked as he glanced at Vereker, who was standing at the entrance to Old Hall Farm with a measuring tape in his hand.
“I’ve made a momentous discovery, Ricky,” replied Vereker with a preoccupied air.
“That’s a habit with me. I make several every day. This morning when I was shaving, I found that my ears weren’t in alignment. ‘Manuel,’ I exclaimed, ‘you’re a monstrosity,’ and the thought depressed me till breakfast time. I forgot all about it after my second egg, which was bad, but it’ll recur every time I look in a mirror. I hardly dare brush my hair now.”
“Never mind your ears, Ricky. Come into the study and see my discovery for yourself,” said Vereker, and led the way to that room.
There, taking his tape measure, he measured the floor from the eastern and inner wall to the western outer wall.
“Twenty-four feet, six inches, Ricky!” he exclaimed.
“Frightfully interesting, Algernon. Now, I’d have sworn it was only twenty-four feet, five and a half inches. It just shows you how easily you can be mistaken.”
“The joke’s rather moth-eaten, Ricky. The length of the room is twenty-four foot six, but if you measure the wall outside, from the junction of the inner dividing wall to the gable of the house, it’s twenty-nine feet. What do you make of it?”
“The calculation’s abstruse, but there’s a difference of four feet six inches. I was always dux when it came to what was called mental arithmetic.”
“It means that there’s a space of four feet, six inches between the wainscoting and the facing bricks outside. In my opinion that wall cannot be solid.”
“Well, don’t get upset about it. What does it matter? It’s not your wall anyway, Algernon.”
“There’s a secret passage in that wall, Ricky, and I’m going to find the entrance to it.”
“A secret passage? Where on earth will it lead to?”
“The church, I think.”
“But no one would want to go to church by a secret passage. Church-goers must be seen. It’s the outward and visible sign of the inward and spiritual grace, especially in rough weather. That’s why I never go when it’s fine...”
“To change the subject, I believe you’ve got some important news for me,” interrupted Vereker.
“Stunning news, Algernon. You can’t guess what’s happened.”
What?” asked Vereker, looking up with a shade of anxiety on his face.
“I’m engaged.”
“What, again? Who’s the victim this time?”
“I am, of course. I proposed to Gertie Wentworth and she has accepted me.”
“But, Ricky, surely you haven’t wasted your time...”
“Algernon, how can you be so stupid! She’s fabulously rich and she’s simply crazy about me.”
“She’s simply crazy, you mean. Haven’t you done the job I asked you to?”
“Of course! I took that in my stride, so to speak. Firstly, about that business of Noy’s. I copied out the police court proceedings from the Daily Report.”
“You needn’t trouble about that now. I’ve found out all about it from Heather. Anything about Dawn Garford?”
“Amazing news of that young woman. Let me tell you the story without interrupting me peevishly. I was waffling along very pleasantly and had nearly reached Braintree, when I felt thirsty for the first time. I stopped at a roadside inn, and on entering the saloon bar, there was Miss Dawn. She was just coming out, figuratively wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. I simply necked my beer, and as she got away in her car, I stepped into ‘Gladys.’ Dawn took the road running west to Dunmow, and keeping well in her rear, I followed her as far as Chipping Ongar.”
“Splendid!” ejaculated Vereker.
“That splendid’s a bit premature. At Chipping Ongar she stopped once more, at a tea-shop this time. I didn’t tittup after her in case she spotted me. Besides, I didn’t want tea. I hied me to the nearest pub, where I got into an animated argument with a very pretty barmaid. We debated whether a pretty woman should use face powder. The subject is whiskered, but it somehow appeared dewy fresh at the time. She said powder was a necessity, and I suggested that in using it she was merely powdering the lily. It wasn’t anything cataclysmic in the way of a compliment, but she blushed so coyly that I ordered another drink. From this pub s window I could see the tea-shop that Dawn had patronized. I ought to have kept my eyes glued on that shop instead of talking poppycock to Hebe. After another spot of lubricant, I glanced across at the tea-shop and found that Dawn’s car had gone. I didn’t see her again...”
“I might have expected that,” interrupted Vereker dismally.
“Let me finish my sentence, Algernon. I didn’t see her again till I reached London. Having lost track of her, I dismissed the subject from my mind, and late that night, I looked in at the Blue Bottle Club. To my unbounded delight, she was among the crowd of dancers. It was just my astonishing luck. I immediately put on my pair of dark spectacles as an impenetrable disguise. By the way, I must really carry a false beard on future occasions. A blond beard, I think. However, Dawn spotted me and, doubtless thinking it funny that the gent she had met near Braintree should reappear at the Blue Bottle, hurriedly left. But not before I’d pointed her out to Poppy Knatchbull. ‘You don’t me
an to say you know her?’ asked Poppy. ‘She’s Mrs. Button, alias Miss Dawn Garford,’ I replied. Then Poppy waxed confidential. ‘Ricky, have nothing to do with her; she’s a dangerous lot,’ she warned me. Poppy, by the way, thinks I’m a nice, ingenuous boy and always tries to play the guardian angel to me. I like to be mothered and encourage her propensity. I told her I was rather infatuated with this Miss Garford. She warned me again, but wouldn’t give me any reason why I should be so cruel. To get the secret from her, I became heroic and said I was determined to marry the lady or perish in the attempt. I tried to look like a sheep and got a most effective bleat into my voice. This wrung her heart, and at last she told me that Miss Garford was a tout for ‘hooch.’ ‘Hooch,’ I believe, is Americanese for illicit drink, stuff that has escaped paying excise duty. You can imagine my astonishment, but I had to continue the role of boob, and said I couldn’t and wouldn’t believe it. As a last resource, Poppy took me into her office and, after swearing me to secrecy, she corroborated her story by producing a little sample of hooch that Miss Garford had left for her consumption. We necked it together.”
“That’s most satisfactory, Ricky. Sorry I was impatient with you,” said Vereker, his eyes beaming with excitement.
“Next day I blew in at Gertie Wentworth’s flat in Clarges Street. As I told you before, it’s in the same block as Miss Garford’s, in fact, the flat below hers. They’re palatial flats, and the rent of one would keep me in dissipation for a year. So now you can see how Miss Garford pays her way. I don’t know whether this discovery is vital to your work, but it’s interesting per se.”
“Has this Poppy Knatchbull bought any of the stuff from her?” asked Vereker.
“Not on your life, Algernon. Poppy’s much too eelish to run her pretty neck into that noose. She says that it’s only a matter of time till the game’s found out, and she’s not going to have the ‘Blue Bottle’ struck off the register for the sake of a little extra profit. It wouldn’t pay her. She keeps strictly to the letter of the law. All her members are respectable people with reputations to lose, apart from their money. I’m one myself, without the money. It was now my turn to play the guardian angel, and I solemnly warned her to have nothing to do with such a risky enterprise. In fact, I said I was going to make a scoop of it by blowing the gaff to the Press. I went further. To ease her conscience, I confessed I’d known the secret all the time, and if she’d been ignorant of it I was going to warn her. Elated with my success, I proposed to Gertie Wentworth next day. That’s the worst of success; it breeds success. I’m rather regretting it now. It’s rather humiliating for a man of my principles to marry money. But there, our moral judgments are invariably on a higher plane than our lives!”
The Spirit Murder Mystery Page 19
