Death on the Way

by Freeman Wills Crofts

  This, French saw, was pure speculation, but it did at least cover the facts. It also indicated a necessary item for French’s programme, the finding of this mysterious visitor.

  Temporarily dismissing this particular problem, French took a clean sheet of paper and began to work on another line. A complete list of all the persons who might be guilty, so far as he could make it, would probably be useful.

  There were in the case as a whole, three separate episodes: the fraud, the murder of Ackerley and the murder of Carey. It was not definitely known that these were connected, but the probability of their being so was very great. Assume they were and see where it led.

  First then the fraud.

  Here the questions he had to answer were two in number:

  (a) Who would have gained by the fraud? and (b) Who could have changed the sections?

  French saw that in order to answer the first question he must interview the contractors, as he had already intended. This had now become a vital matter and he noted to ring them up in the morning and fix up a meeting. In the meantime he could only assume that Carey alone had benefited. Carey, however, might have passed on part of his illicit gains to some other person.

  As to the changing of the sections, he realised that practically anyone could have done it. Carey, Lowell, Pole, Bragg, Ackerley, Parry and Templeton: anyone of them could be guilty. In fact, anyone, whether he could have changed the sections or not, might have been Carey’s accomplice.

  Secondly, Ackerley’s murder.

  Into this French had already gone, though he was not sure that he would not have to reopen the question. His preliminary inquiries had led him to the conclusion that only Carey could have been guilty. He had reached this conclusion because every other possible—so far as he knew who were possibles—either had an alibi or failed to comply with the boy, Langton’s, description.

  There remained the third episode, the murder of Carey. The problem here was simple. Who of the possibles had no alibi for the period in question?

  French had to admit that he had not sufficient information to enable him to reach a conclusion. Whether Lowell, Pole and Templeton had alibis, he didn’t know. Parry and Bragg had each a tentative alibi—one was supposed to be busy at a plan and the other to have gone to Drychester—but it was, of course, possible that investigation might break these down.

  French was becoming rather appalled at the amount of work which was stretching out before him as he added these items to his programme. However, it was at least good to have a programme, and somewhat more hopeful than when he began his review, French had a drink and went up to bed.

  14

  The Payment in Notes

  Next morning French put through an early call to Messrs Spence, fixing up an appointment with Mr Hugh Spence for that afternoon. He followed his message up to town and at three o’clock presented himself at the firm’s offices in Victoria Street.

  ‘Well, inspector,’ Mr Spence greeted him. ‘What’s the new trouble? I gathered from your telephone that something serious had happened.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re right, sir,’ French returned, ‘at least, in a way. It’s not that anything fresh has occurred, but that we’ve found that we were mistaken in the views we held about what did happen. That’s not very clear perhaps, but I’ll explain. It’s about those two deaths. It was assumed that Mr Ackerley was accidentally killed and that Mr Carey committed suicide. I’m afraid, sir, neither of these assumptions was correct. I regret to tell you that both were murdered.’

  That French had justified his call in Spence’s eyes, there could be no doubt. The junior partner made no attempt to hide his amazement and horror. ‘Good heavens, inspector! You’re not serious?’ he gasped. ‘Carey murdered! I can scarcely believe it.’

  ‘There’s unhappily no doubt about it, sir,’ French went on. ‘Both the crimes were carried out exceedingly skilfully, one to suggest accident, the other suicide. It was quite by chance that the true facts were discovered.’

  Mr Spence seemed quite upset. ‘I must call my partner,’ he declared. ‘He should know of this and he would like to hear the story at first hand.’

  He disappeared and French was left alone in the elaborately furnished office. At least, he thought, he would not be faced with any difficulty in obtaining information from the firm. In Mr Hugh Spence’s present frame of mind he would certainly give all the help he could. And when in a moment the cousin, Mr Elmer Spence, appeared, French felt he might say the same about him.

  Elmer was a much older man than his cousin. He looked more responsible and a good deal sterner, and French believed he was now in the presence of the real head of the firm. But in spite of his obvious strength of mind he was showing the same evidences of agitation as Hugh.

  ‘This is terrible news, inspector,’ he began at once. ‘I can scarcely believe it. You say that both Carey and Ackerley were murdered? I suppose there can be no mistake about it? You really are quite sure?’

  ‘Quite, sir,’ French assured him. ‘As I told your partner, we discovered it almost by chance, but there is no doubt of the facts.’

  The partners subsided into chairs. ‘Terrible, terrible,’ Mr Elmer murmured; ‘and so utterly surprising. It’s just about the last thing I should have expected to hear. Tell me, have you—er—any idea of who could have done it?’

  French contrived to look mysterious. ‘We’ve not quite made up our minds as yet,’ he answered, ‘but, of course, we’re making inquiries. Hence my presence here today.’

  The partners exchanged glances. ‘I’m afraid we’ve already told you everything that we know,’ Hugh declared, ‘but, of course, we’ll be glad to help in any way we can.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ Elmer added, ‘of course. The inspector knows that. But really, with the best will in the world, I don’t think there is anything that we can tell you. We know absolutely nothing about this terrible affair.’

  French nodded. ‘I’m sure of that, sir,’ he declared tactfully. ‘But you can tell me something that may help me to find the motive. The obvious suggestion is that the tragedy was connected with the recent fraud. Now, gentlemen, you inquired into that and I want you to tell me what you learned.’

  In spite of the partners’ cordiality, they were evidently far from pleased at this. French wondered if he knew why.

  ‘Of course, you understand, gentlemen,’ he added, ‘that anything you tell me will be considered strictly confidential unless it proves to be material evidence. Otherwise we do not wish to pry into your or anyone else’s business.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ returned Spence senior, ‘we understand that. But we have nothing to tell you beyond what was contained in our report to the Railway Company. You’ve seen that, of course?’

  ‘Yes, sir; Mr Bragg showed it to me.’

  ‘Well, what more do you want?’

  ‘I want this, sir,’ said French. ‘I want to know, firstly, what sums by way of bonus or percentage were paid to Mr Carey as a result of the fraud, and secondly, whether any similar sums were paid to any other person or persons, and if so, how much?’

  The partners hesitated and exchanged glances. Finally old Mr Spence replied.

  ‘That, of course, is strictly confidential information, inspector, which under normal circumstances we should not dream of giving. We cannot and will not stand in the way of justice, but I’m afraid you’ll have to convince us that it really is necessary before we give it.’

  Beneath his breath French swore; outwardly he nodded gravely and said he admitted fully the reasonableness of Mr Spence’s position, but that he thought he would have little difficulty in supplying the necessary proof. ‘It’s a matter of motives,’ he went on. ‘I must know who got that money and how much it was, if I am to know whether its receipt was or was not connected with the crimes.’

  ‘It all went to Carey. You might have known that from our report to the Company.’

  ‘I imagined it did, but Mr Carey may have passed it on. I must know how much went
to him and the dates on which it went, to enable me to ascertain whether anyone else benefited.’

  Messrs Spence were so unwilling to say more that presently French pointed out very politely that if they couldn’t see their way to give him the information in private, he would obtain an order for recovery of documents and their books would be taken into open court. A good deal more argument ensued, but at last the cousins gave way. Then they gave way handsomely. Not only did they produce the figures, but they showed French their books and explained how these had been made up. The bonus sums had been paid by separate cheques from those representing Carey’s salary, as they became due every four weeks, whereas the salary was paid monthly.

  It seemed that as a result of the fraud Carey had received allowances totalling to some £2025. Payments had been going on practically since the start of the job twelve months earlier, and the amounts per period had varied between £75 and £300. French made a detailed note of the figures.

  ‘Thank you, gentlemen, that will be a help. Now, one or two more questions and I have finished. Can you tell me anything of Mr Carey’s family or to whom his property goes?’

  Messrs Spence were unable to do so. His parents they knew were dead, and so far as they were aware he was not married nor had he other relatives.

  ‘Now this,’ French went on, ‘is a more difficult question because it is a general one. Can you tell me anything, of any kind whatsoever, which might throw light on these tragedies, or which might suggest a line of inquiry into them?’

  The Spences immediately replied that they could not. French, however, was not satisfied and plied them with further questions. He obtained, however, nothing of the slightest value.

  ‘My last question.’ French was interested to see a flicker of relief pass over the partners’ faces. ‘You know, of course, the fraud involved the tracing of all the cross sections and the making of two complete sets of photo prints. Now, I can prove that Carey secretly bought enough tracing linen and photo print paper for this purpose. But I’ve—’

  ‘We didn’t know that, inspector.’

  ‘No, sir, I forgot to mention it when I was telling you of the case. I was going to say that I’ve not yet discovered where the prints were made. I understand you have an apparatus and what I want to know is, could they have been secretly made here?’

  This was a new and evidently a disconcerting idea to the Spences. ‘I see what you’re getting at,’ Elmer Spence said unhappily. ‘You think Carey had an accomplice here in the office?’

  ‘Not necessarily. Could Carey, for instance, have come up here on a Saturday, worked all night and returned to Whitness on Sunday? He had a key for the office?’

  Spence looked doubtful. ‘Oh, yes, all the technical staff have keys,’ he said, then paused, glancing at his cousin. ‘I suppose what the inspector suggests is possible, Hugh?’

  Hugh agreed that it was theoretically possible, but neither of the cousins believed for a moment that anything of the kind had been done.

  ‘All the same I should like to ask a question or two of your staff,’ French persisted. ‘Someone may have noticed something which might help me.’

  To this the partners made no objection, and calling their chief technical assistant, gave him instructions that French was to be given every facility for making his inquiries.

  This was a long shot and French did not wish to spend much time on it. All the same he made a reasonably complete investigation. In the end he had to conclude that the Spence cousins were correct, and that while it was just possible that the faked prints had been made in Victoria Street, it was most unlikely.

  As that evening French sat in the train on his way back to Redchurch, he felt that his day had not been wasted. He had got what he went up for; the amounts the fraud had brought in to Carey, and the knowledge that it had not brought in anything to anyone else. The matter of the printing of the sections was secondary, and he had not hoped to obtain any information about it. There now remained the question of whether Carey had passed on any of his ill-gotten gains to any other person. That French would tackle in the morning.

  Accordingly next day he laid another course of the structure he was so carefully erecting. Soon after the Whitness Branch of Lloyd’s Bank opened he called and asked to see the manager.

  ‘I saw, sir,’ he began when he had stated the business which had brought him to Dorset, ‘from papers in the late Mr Carey’s desk that he banked with you and it is about his finances that I have called.’ He went on to explain in confidence his belief that Carey had been murdered, and added that so far as was known the deceased had been alone in the world and had made no will. ‘I know, sir,’ he went on, ‘that a gentleman in your position will not without special authority give the police information about his client’s affairs, but I put it to you that this case is quite exceptional.’

  He enlarged so movingly on the reasons why he thought he should get his information that to his own surprise he finally convinced the manager.

  Carey, it appeared, had been in the habit of paying into his account all the cheques he received from the contractors, issuing his own cheques to pay his bills or if he wanted cash. All his salary cheques were thus lodged in full, but when French came to examine the bonus cheques he found a surprising exception to the rule.

  From the first bonus cheque up to that for the four-weekly period ending on the 3rd October, only half the bonus amounts had been lodged. In every case Carey had taken the other half in notes. But in the case of the last two cheques, that for the period ending 31st October and 28th November, he had received no cash, the entire sums going to his account.

  French next obtained from the manager the actual figures of income and outgo which made up Carey’s account, looking at once to see if any cheques had been issued to cover the half amounts of the last two bonus payments. But there were none.

  He left the bank, and going to one of the railway waiting rooms, sat down to think the thing out. Carey had received the entire profits of the fraud. But it looked very like as if he had not kept the whole of the money. What about those half payments in notes?

  Well, French could suggest an obvious explanation for that, though he would be very much surprised if it proved true. Did these facts not look as if in the early stages Carey had had a partner in the fraud, a confederate who received half the profits? And did they not further suggest that in October the partner had dropped out, leaving the entire proceeds to Carey?

  If so, who could the confederate have been? Here the answer was equally obvious. One person had left the work during the month in question, and one person only. Ackerley! Did these facts mean that Carey and Ackerley had formed a guilty partnership to defraud the Railway Company, which partnership had been dissolved on Ackerley’s death?

  For a couple of hours French sat smoking in the waiting-room while he considered the question from every angle, and the more he thought of it, the more convinced he became that no other explanation would meet the facts.

  He saw clearly enough that this theory contradicted his previous conclusion that these two men were innocent and that some third person had murdered them both. Well, if some third person had done so, he had missed the reward. The money had gone to Carey. Except for those early half payments, the money had remained in Carey’s account. If a third person had committed the murders, it was impossible to imagine his motive.

  French swore. The thing was confoundedly puzzling. He had been getting on quite well and now here was a snag. He would have to reconsider his conclusions.

  Rhode had asked him to call that evening to let him know the result of his visit to London. French had still some hours to spare and he thought he could not better employ the time than by trying to follow up the matter of the printing of the cross sections.

  Accordingly he took the first train to Lydmouth, and calling on Marlowe, asked if he could help him with the inquiry. It appeared, fortunately, as French thought, that Bragg and Parry were out of the office. Marlowe, therefore,
rang for the junior, Bolton, with whom Parry had discussed the footbridge for Lydwater, and told him to assist the inspector in every way he could.

  Bolton proved communicative. He showed French where and how the prints were made, and went into the possibilities of the work being done secretly. The result was the same as so many previous results in this exasperating case. It seemed possible that anyone who had a key of the office could, with care, have developed prints without leaving traces. That anyone had done so, however, there was not the slightest particle of evidence.

  When French got back to Redchurch Rhode was expecting him. He heard the tale of French’s adventures without comment.

  ‘So there it is,’ French ended up. ‘That one bit of evidence about Carey getting half those payments in notes during Ackerley’s lifetime, and not after Ackerley’s death, suggests that Ackerley was a partner in the fraud. On the other hand all the remaining evidence suggests he wasn’t. It’s a bit puzzling.’

  Rhode was impressed about the payment in notes. ‘I think we may take that as quite definite proof that Carey had a confederate with whom he was dividing fifty-fifty,’ he remarked. ‘I’m not so sure of the Ackerley part of it.’

  ‘Nor am I,’ French agreed, ‘but I don’t see how else to explain Carey’s keeping the whole of the payments since Ackerley’s death.’

  Rhode whistled tunelessly below his breath. ‘Suppose,’ he said presently, ‘Carey had an accomplice, not Ackerley; and suppose they had a row and Carey refused to pay any more cash. Wouldn’t that account for the whole thing? As a result of the refusal mightn’t the accomplice have murdered him?’