by John Bude
Another point puzzled him. Were these other Nonock employees part and parcel of the manager’s illegal traffic? Did it mean that the fraudulent sale of petrol took place not only on No. 4’s round, but on the company’s other five routes as well? To verify this would necessitate a county-wide police investigation, the cost of which would be enormous. But, in Meredith’s opinion, it would be time enough to enlarge the scope of the police inquiries when No. 4’s activities had been duly noted and recorded.
A call through to the Penrith station was sufficient to ascertain the time Dancy arrived home for his lunch, and punctually at twelve-thirty the Inspector turned into the end of Careleton Street on his way to 24 Eamont Villas. He had no difficulty in locating this uncompromising block of cottages. Every door and window in the unbroken, yellow-brick façade was identical with those to either side, and only the numbers on the doors distinguished one cottage from another. Strolling casually down the length of the street, Meredith became intensely interested in the windows of a pawnbroker’s shop. For nearly ten minutes he seemed to be engaged in sizing up the multifarious objects displayed behind the plate-glass. Then suddenly he turned from the window and returned smartly up Careleton Street, where he almost ran into the arms of Mr. Dancy.
The yard-man recognized the Inspector at once.
“Surprised to see you in these parts, sir,” he observed. “You weren’t looking for me, by any chance, were you?”
Meredith nodded.
“I understood you live at 24 Eamont Villas, and as I want a quiet word with you, I thought I’d catch you on your way home to lunch. Is there any place we can talk?”
“As a matter of fact, sir, my old woman’s away for the day. She’s visiting a relative over at Shap. So if you care to come inside we’d be all alone. Perhaps we could have our talk over my dinner, like?”
Meredith thought this an excellent proposal, and a few minutes later he was seated opposite Dancy in the clean little kitchen-parlour of No. 24. A cold meal had been laid ready on the table, and at the Inspector’s instructions to “Go ahead,” Dancy settled down to appease a healthy appetite.
“Now, Mr. Dancy,” began the Inspector with deliberate solemnity, “I’m going to take you into my confidence. There’s absolutely no reason why you should fall in with my request, but I’m sure you’ll agree with me that fair-dealing comes first in my business. Now, the police have good reason to believe that certain irregularities are being practised on the public by some of the employees of your firm. I can’t tell you more than that—but I want you to understand that it’s a serious matter. The good name of the Nonock Company depends on our being able to lay our hands on the culprits. And that’s where we need your help. We need certain inside information which you alone can procure for us. The question is, Mr. Dancy, will you supply us with that information?”
The yard-man laid down his knife and fork and champed his food, for a moment, in meditative silence. Then: “Depends on what you’re going to ask me to do,” he said cautiously. “It might be more’n my job was worth if I was caught giving away the firm’s private business to outsiders. Even if they did happen to be the police.”
“Well,” said Meredith expansively, “I really don’t think you need trouble on that account. There’s nothing particularly private about the facts I’m anxious to get hold of. It’s just that I’d like a copy of your advance orders for the Wednesday, Friday and Saturday of this week, and the Monday and Tuesday of next. You realize, of course, that I could get this information by making inquiries at every garage that takes in Nonock petrol and finding out from them if they have placed an advance order with your firm. So you won’t really be telling me anything that I couldn’t find out for myself. Only that would take time. And, unfortunately, I haven’t got time to waste. So I’m looking to you instead. Well, what about it, Mr. Dancy?”
“All right,” said Dancy, nodding his head slowly. “I suppose it can’t cause no harm, since you put it like that. Now, perhaps you’d explain exactly what you want me to do, eh?”
Meredith explained in detail, whilst Dancy listened with undivided interest to his instructions. He was to obtain complete copies of every advance order to be sent out from the depot by No. 4 lorry on the scheduled days. So as to include even the most belated orders, he was not to make up these copies until the evening prior to the date to which these orders referred. To make quite sure that there should be no mistake in this direction, Meredith elicited the information from the yard-man that no order was ever dealt with on the day of its arrival. This was a strict rule of the firm. Reasonable notice had to be given when a delivery was wanted, so that the loads could be made up accordingly and dealt with in rotation. The manager, in fact, did not attend to the morning post until after the lorries had left on their rounds. But, as Dancy pointed out, if a request for immediate delivery was received overnight, it might be dealt with on the following day if there was the requisite room left in the delivery-tank.
Once he had obtained the necessary copy, Dancy was to hand it over to a man in plain-clothes, who would be waiting for him at the north-end of Careleton Street.
The next point was to discuss with the yard-man how best he could effect an entrance into the manager’s office without arousing suspicion. According to Dancy, the manager usually left the premises shortly after 6.30, sometimes earlier, depending on the time of the last lorry’s arrival. It was his, Dancy’s, job to see that everything was locked up securely for the night, and to see that all lights were turned out. For business reasons, the yard-man had a duplicate key of the office and, although Rose usually locked the office himself before leaving, it would be perfectly simple for Dancy to re-enter the building once the coast was clear. Should the manager, by any chance, return unexpectedly, Dancy felt sure that he could offer a reasonable excuse for his presence in the office. He promised Meredith to think up something in case this excuse was needed.
“Now, there’s just one other thing, Mr. Dancy,” went on Meredith. “It’s absolutely essential that I should know to a gallon the amount of petrol loaded on to No. 4 on the mornings I’ve already specified. Not only the amount run in to cover the advance orders, but the surplus amount run in to make up a reasonably full load. You remember that you told me on Friday that when the advance orders were small it was usual to fill out the load, in the hope of making a ‘spot’ sale en route?”
“That’s quite right. I did. It’s not always done. In fact, during the winter, when there’s no tourist traffic on the roads, the lorries more often than not don’t carry a surplus.”
“I see. What would happen if an advance order was cancelled at the last moment—say, by phone?”
“We should probably put in a surplus in that case. But it doesn’t happen that way more than once in the blue moon.”
“Still, to be quite sure, Mr. Dancy, even when the advance orders total up to a capacity load, you’d better drop us a note saying, ‘No surplus’. Then we shall know there has been no last-minute cancellation of an order. Well now—do you think you can let us know about all this?”
Dancy nodded.
“Easy, sir. It’s part of my job to help with the filling of the tanks, and I’ll take good care to keep a check on the number of gallons run into No. 4. The question is, how soon will you want the return?”
“Suppose we say noon of the same day. I’ll have the same man that takes in the advance order copies waiting for you outside the George in Devonshire Street. You can give him the figures on your way home to lunch.”
“That’s the idea, sir!” agreed Dancy with enthusiasm. Now that he was in possession of the details that were required of him, all trace of his previous reluctance had vanished. It was obvious to the Inspector that he now had in Dancy a fervent ally, who would not be likely to let him down. The man was evidently flattered to be working in such close co-operation with the police. Meredith, therefore, left Eamont Villas more than satisfie
d with the result of this rather delicate interview.
After a late lunch at his house in Greystoke Road, Meredith returned to the police station, where he was informed by the Sergeant on duty that Carlisle had been calling him on the phone. Anxious to ascertain what progress had been made in the listing of the Nonock customers, Meredith got through at once to the Superintendent. Thompson was elated at the smartness displayed by the men he had put on to the job.
“I think we’ve got the complete list already,” he informed the Inspector. “My men have been working hard on the job over the week-end and the last report came in about half an hour ago. We’ve traced forty-two customers—most of them in the towns. Thirty-six of these are garages, and the remaining six licensed premises sporting a Nonock pump for the convenience of their customers. You know the type of place, Inspector. Not exactly hotels, but sort of glorified pubs with a limited number of bedrooms. Three of these places are in Whitehaven, two in Workington and one in Maryport.”
“And the garages, sir? What’s the proportion of town and country places?”
“Twenty-nine of the thirty-six garages are in towns. Two in Keswick, four in Cockermouth, eight in Workington, twelve in Whitehaven and three in Maryport. The seven country places include, of course, the Derwent and the Lothwaite. Of the remaining five, only two are really isolated.”
“Which suggests,” put in Meredith, “that we ought to keep particular watch on these two places. Could you hold on a minute while I get my map, sir, and then perhaps you could let me know exactly where they’re situated.”
The Superintendent waited until Meredith declared himself ready.
“You’ve got a Bartholomew’s mile-to-the-inch, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, follow the Cockermouth road from the Lothwaite until it crosses the railway line and makes a sudden bend westward. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Right! Now, about two miles from this right-angled turn you’ll find a place called Stanley Hall. Got that? Good. Well, the first of the two isolated places lies about midway between the bend and Stanley Hall. According to the constable who investigated that district there is no cover of any sort within a hundred yards of the building. Just pasturage bounded with stone walls. So you’ll probably have to get a motor-cyclist on to that particular place.”
“Right, sir, I’ve made a note of that. And the other place?”
“Between Cockermouth and Workington. You see the railway station marked at Broughton Cross. Well, continue along the road from the station for about half a mile, and you just about reach the point where the garage stands.”
“Yes, I’ve got that, sir. Not far from Nepgill Colliery?”
“About a mile I should say. Open country again, as you can see from your map, but this time we’ve got a bit of luck on our side. Opposite the garage, on the other side of the road, there’s a derelict barn. The constable who covered this stretch of country says that it would be easy to conceal a man in the barn. There’s not much of the roofing left, but the walls are still standing, and on the garage side there’s a small ventilation hole.”
“Sounds promising, sir,” was Meredith’s comment. “Could I have a list of the garages and hotels sent over soon?”
“You can have the list now over the phone. Is there a constable in the office?”
“No, sir—but Sergeant Brown’s on duty.”
“Well, get the Sergeant to come to the phone. I’ve got a constable here ready to read over the list. Then you can start locating the various places on your maps this afternoon.”
“Right, sir.”
Meredith changed places with the Sergeant and as he was buckling on his cape in the outer office he heard the drone of the man’s voice checking over the names and addresses of the Nonock customers.
His next visit was to Ferriby’s garage at the top of Main Street. The proprietor himself—a tall, bony, round-shouldered individual—was leaning against the bonnet of a lorry talking to a mechanic. On seeing the Inspector, he threw away the stump of his cigarette and came forward to greet him.
“Evening, Mr. Meredith. Want me?”
“A moment, if you will. Can we go into the office?”
Ferriby nodded and the moment he had closed the door of the higgledy-piggledy little room, Meredith plunged into the reason for his visit.
“I want some information, Mr. Ferriby. Some technical information.”
“Anything I can do,” answered Ferriby obligingly.
“You used to work with the Greenline Petroleum Company, I believe?”
“That’s right. About seven years ago.”
“Then you can probably tell me this—how long would it take to discharge a hundred gallons of petrol from a lorry into a garage-tank?”
“You mean from the bulk-wagon into the pump? I think I can tell you that. We used to reckon on seven to eight minutes to run off a couple of hundred gallons. Say, three and a half minutes per hundred gallons. Mind you, it depends on the diameter of your feed-pipe.”
“Naturally,” said Meredith. “What’s the usual size of the pipe?”
“Three-inch diameter.”
“Is a three-inch pipe used on the bulk-wagons of all the petrol concerns?”
“Well, I don’t know about all. But it’s used on the Greenline, Redcar, North British and Nonock—to mention a few.”
“Thanks very much, Mr. Ferriby,” said Meredith as he made ready to go. “You’ve told me exactly what I wanted to know.”
“Nothing more?”
“No, I don’t think—wait a minute, though! There is. Why did you reckon out the time it took to run off two hundred gallons instead of a hundred? Any particular reason?”
“Matter of instinct, I suppose,” answered Ferriby, lighting another cigarette. “You can’t send in an advance order to most of the petrol firms for less than two hundred gallons when it’s to be delivered from the bulk-wagon. After that it ascends in hundreds—three hundred, four hundred, and so on.”
“Does that apply, say, to the Nonock people?”
“Well, I don’t sport one of their pumps, but I happen to know that their ruling in the matter is the same as my old firm, the Greenline.”
“Thanks.”
On his return down Main Street to the police station, Meredith felt that he had gained some very useful knowledge. Utilizing Ferriby’s information, it was only necessary to instruct his watchers at the various garages to make a note of the time it took to discharge the petrol in order to gain a fairly accurate idea of the petrol delivered. In this case, if any unauthorized deliveries were made, he would know almost to a gallon the quantity of petrol discharged at the dishonest garages. And by a simple calculation he could then find out what profits Rose and his confrères were raking in from the fraud.
Two sheets of paper awaited him on his desk. The first was a report from the Penrith station, which had come in ten minutes before. The movements of the remaining three Nonock lorry-men had been accounted for. Two had left for Carlisle by the 6.45 bus and were known to have spent the week-end with friends. The other man, not feeling well, had returned to his lodgings and gone straight to bed. Although Meredith had anticipated this result, he could not help feeling that it had considerably strengthened the case against Bettle and Prince. By a process of elimination the other suspects had now been cleared and, to his way of thinking, it was no longer a case of “Who murdered Clayton?” but a case of “How and why was Clayton murdered?” Find an answer to those two questions and surely he would then be in a position to make an arrest?
The second document on his desk was a copper-plate copy of the Superintendent’s list of the Nonock customers. The Inspector, spreading out the two Bartholomew’s maps which covered the complete district, began the arduous task of locating the places and marking them on the maps with a tiny circle.
&n
bsp; An hour and a half later, this task completed, he yawned widely, stretched his legs, and returned home to his customary high tea. It would mean another long and strenuous day on the morrow. A round of the garages and detailed arrangements for the placing and concealment of his watchers, a final conference over at Carlisle and a talk to Penrith about the runner who was to collect that all-important information from Dancy.
Chapter XIV
The Quart in the Pint Pot!
As luck would have it, the following day was warm and sunny. Great masses of fleecy clouds floated idly through the deepest of blue skies, and the wrinkled faces of the higher fells stood out sharply in the tiniest detail. It was the first day of April and there was every promise of seasonable weather—bright periods alternating with typical April showers. The touch of spring in the air infused Meredith with more than his customary keenness and energy, and it was in something approaching a holiday mood that he and Railton, both in plain-clothes, set out on a tour of the Nonock garages.
They had already discussed their intended line of action. The towns were to be dealt with on foot, as the Inspector considered that this method of survey would attract less attention. Before leaving his office he had, therefore, rung through to the police-stations at Cockermouth, Whitehaven, Workington and Maryport and arranged for them to have a plain-clothes constable ready to act as local guide. The six country places were to be investigated by the simple expedient of calling at each of the garages and ordering a half-gallon of petrol. While this was being run into the tank of the combination, Meredith and the constable were to take in all the details of the near locality. If the tank of the motor-cycle became too full, then they were either to take in oil instead of petrol, or to run out some of the surplus spirit when a safe opportunity presented itself.
The Keswick garages were to be dealt with by the local Sergeant, and Meredith had already decided to keep an eye on the Lothwaite himself. Passing the Derwent on their way out that morning, he noticed that Higgins had evidently returned, for the garage doors were open and smoke was coming from the cottage chimneys. When they were well by the place, Meredith called out to Railton above the noise of the engine.
