Death on the Way

by Freeman Wills Crofts

  French’s thoughts turned to Parry. Could Parry, by any chance, be his man?

  French had considered the possibility on many occasions, and each time had rejected it. All the routine inquiries he had made had led him to this view. In the first place, it was most unlikely that such a very junior man should have been selected by Carey as his accomplice. Moreover, French had found nothing to suggest that the young man had ever received a penny more than his salary. With regard to the murder of Ackerley, Parry would not have had time to check the pitching and follow Ackerley to Downey’s Point; but even if he could have managed this, he did not answer Langton’s description of the man who had obtained the bicycle.

  French believed that if Parry were innocent of the fraud and of Ackerley’s murder, it followed automatically that he was innocent of the death of Carey. But as a matter of fact another piece of evidence had already brought French to this latter conclusion. From 6.0 o’clock, when Bragg left the office, till 6.15, when Parry followed to get his train, Parry had been working at a plan. There could be no fake about this, because Bragg had seen just before he started that the work had not been done, but when the stationmaster at Whitness received it just before the departure of the 6.25 goods, it was complete.

  When, however, French came to the next name on his list, that of Bragg, he saw that more consideration was necessary.

  In some ways Bragg was even more likely than Lowell to have been a confederate of Carey’s. It was Bragg who, with Carey, agreed on the figures for the certificate and he, better than anyone else, could have connived at the fraud. Here again the acid test remained to be made: Where was Bragg at the time of Carey’s murder?

  French felt no doubt that Bragg could have helped Carey to carry out the frauds. He had access to the Lydmouth office and could have, again perhaps better than anyone else, made the photo prints.

  But Bragg, French felt equally sure, could not have murdered Ackerley. His alibi was obviously watertight. There could be no doubt that he was working at the certificate at the time of the crime.

  Did, then, innocence of Ackerley’s murder involve innocence of Carey’s. French did not think so. Innocence of both the fraud and Ackerley’s murder would, he believed, do so, but not innocence of Ackerley’s murder alone. Suppose then Bragg were mixed up in the fraud. He might undoubtedly be innocent of Ackerley’s murder and yet guilty of Carey’s. An interview was the next item on the programme.

  Bragg was not at Whitness and French telephoned to Lydmouth, making an appointment for the following morning. ‘Well, inspector, how’s the inquiry?’ Bragg asked when French knocked at his door next day.

  ‘Plenty of work in it, if there’s nothing else,’ French rejoined. ‘I suppose you know, sir, that we have discovered that Mr Carey was murdered?’

  ‘I heard so,’ said Bragg with a look of interest. ‘How did you find it out?’

  ‘We found that he had been drugged, and of course if he was drugged he couldn’t have committed suicide.’

  Bragg smiled. ‘That scarcely answers my question,’ he pointed out, ‘but I suppose it’s not intended to. Well, admittedly it’s your business to get information, not to give it. What can I do for you, inspector?’

  ‘It’s the same routine question as I asked you before,’ French explained. ‘As I told you in the case of Mr Ackerley’s death, in a murder case we have to ask everyone concerned where he or she was at the time of the crime. Would you kindly account for your movements on the night of Mr Carey’s death?’

  Bragg nodded. ‘I’m beginning to know what to expect,’ he declared. ‘I’ll do my best to answer.’

  He sat thinking for some moments, then resumed.

  ‘That was the night I went to Drychester, which is fortunate for both of us: for you, because the unusual surroundings led me to remark my actions in a way I shouldn’t otherwise have done; for me, because a lot of people can prove I was in Drychester and not here murdering Carey. That’s what you really want, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ French answered so directly that Bragg obviously lost some of his confidence.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’ll tell you as best I can. I was here or about the Widening till six, or a few minutes past. Carey had been in to see me and he stayed till about five minutes to six. When he left I had some talk with Parry, then I followed.

  ‘At this time a company was playing at Drychester in the farce, “Ethel Aldehyde”: I’m sure you know it. The name part was taken by my cousin, Miss Lois Lawless on the stage and Mrs John Barlow in private life. I had promised to go over to see her and we had fixed up that night. When I left the office I took out my car and drove over. I reached the Drychester Arms Hotel a few minutes before seven. My cousin was there and we dined together. At least,’ Bragg gave a crooked smile, ‘it wasn’t much of a dinner. She only takes a snack before going on. But of course you’re not interested in that. All you want is the fact that I went to Drychester. After dinner we went to the theatre, and I saw the play through and had supper with my cousin and one or two other members of the company. I then drove home to Lydmouth, arriving about two in the morning. Is that what you want?’

  ‘That’s it, sir,’ and French passed on into his second little formula about the need for confirmation.

  ‘I dare say,’ Bragg returned. ‘That’s all very well, but unless you know beforehand that you’re going to be asked questions of this kind, you don’t go about fixing up confirmatory evidence of all your movements. I don’t know that I can offer you any confirmation, inspector; not real confirmation, I mean. Parry knows I left the office, and the porter and waiters at the Drychester Arms, not to speak of my cousin, can testify to my arrival there. I take it, however, that what you want is the hours of these things, and it’s just there that I don’t know that I can help myself.’

  ‘How many miles is it from here to Drychester, Mr Bragg?’

  ‘About twenty.’

  ‘And you took an hour to go?’

  ‘No, I didn’t take an hour. I believe it was after six when I left the office and it was certainly before seven when I arrived: say fifty minutes. Then I had to get the car out, a matter of five minutes. I was only about forty-five minutes on the road. That would work out at nearly thirty miles an hour, which is good enough travelling.’

  ‘And you didn’t meet anyone on the road or stop for petrol or anything of that sort?’

  Bragg shook his head.

  French changed his position, turned over a page in his notebook and bent forward. ‘Now, sir, let’s see what that amounts to. Up till six o’clock the question does not arise, because Mr Carey was alive till then. From seven o’clock on scarcely worries me. You can no doubt get plenty of confirmation as to your presence at Drychester. But between six and seven I should like more details. Admittedly we can’t prove the exact time of the murder, but it was probably early in the evening, certainly before midnight. Now, sir, can you not get the hours of your departure and arrival settled a little more accurately?’

  Bragg would have been glad to do so, but didn’t see how he could.

  ‘Well,’ said French, ‘in that case I’ll ask you to do the same as you did before: come down and make the run while I time. Have you any objection?’

  Bragg hadn’t the slightest.

  ‘Then could you come down to Whitness and let us leave the yard there at six?’

  Bragg agreed.

  ‘Good,’ said French. ‘Now, sir, there’s another point. In addition to asking these questions of all concerned, I am making inquiries into their finances. I may tell you straight what I’d like. I’d like a note to your bank manager authorising him to answer my questions in so far as your account is concerned. Admittedy, Mr Bragg, you would be quite within your rights to refuse, but I put it to you that it is in your own interest to help me to satisfy myself of your innocence.’

  For the first time Bragg showed annoyance. ‘What next, inspector?’ he asked indignantly. ‘It’s surely not your duty to rake up all my private
affairs because I happen to be employed on a job on which a murder has taken place?’

  ‘I have to be satisfied about everyone concerned,’ French returned doggedly. ‘You can refuse if you want to, and if necessary I can get powers to obtain the information. If you have anything to hide, you’ll hide it. If not, sir, you can not only help my work, but perhaps save yourself from annoyance, if you’ll give your consent.’

  Bragg was very resentful, but after some further discussion he unwillingly gave way. Having arranged a meeting for the evening, French went up to town to Bragg’s bank.

  In making these inquiries at the various banks French of course realised their limitations. The fact that the half bonus payments had not been paid directly into the account of any given suspect, did not prove that that suspect had not received them. But French believed that had any suspect obtained the monies, it would, nevertheless, have affected his balance. Some bills would certainly have been settled with these ill-gotten gains, thus reducing the average withdrawals.

  The result of his inquiries in the present instance was far from satisfactory. Directly, there was no evidence that Bragg might be guilty, indirectly, there was.

  So far as the engineer’s transactions with the bank were concerned, there was no direct record of his having come in for a penny whose source was not regular and well known. His income was confined to his salary and a very small additional sum from investments. French took the trouble to check these up and found them all correct.

  On the other hand, an episode in Bragg’s financial life gave French food for thought. About a year previously the man’s account was, for its size, rather seriously overdrawn. French spent a considerable time in going into the history of that time of stringency as it was revealed by the various cheques lodged or drawn during the period. Heavy payments to dressmakers suggested the cause of the shortage, and a falling off of the same showed how the crisis had been met. All through there was no indication that Bragg had recovered himself in any way other than by economy and better conserving of his railway salary.

  At the same time the thing was suspicious. Here was evidence that Bragg had been in financial difficulties, and at that very time Carey must have been planning his fraud. Bragg recovered himself, but during the period of that recovery Carey was apparently paying away a large sum every fourth week. Was there any connection? French did not know. The whole thing might have been perfectly innocent on Bragg’s part: or again it mightn’t.

  French took a note that if that evening’s inquiry into Bragg’s alibi did not prove conclusive, he would have to go much more closely into the man’s finances, particularly finding out if payments of debts amounted to more than was shown in the bank account.

  French turned up that evening at the railway hut at Whitness before Parry had gone.

  ‘I want, Mr Parry, to know as exactly as you can tell me, the hour at which Mr Bragg left the office on the night of Mr Carey’s death. You told me before, but I want you now to think more carefully and see if you can come nearer to it than then.’

  Parry really didn’t see how he could go any closer to it than he had already done. He repeated that Bragg had said he wanted to leave at six, and he thought he had done so. ‘He asked me,’ Parry went on, ‘if I was going by the 6.10. I had intended to do so, but had remembered that the plan of the shed was not finished; I told you about it. I remember looking at my watch and thinking that only for the darned plan I could have just caught the 6.10. That shows it must then have been six or a minute or two earlier, because it takes about ten minutes to walk to the station—we always allow ten minutes. I actually did leave at 6.15, after finishing the work.’

  ‘Yes,’ French agreed, ‘that’s what you told me.’

  ‘Now I remember something more,’ said Parry. ‘There was a point about the plan about which I was not clear, and I asked Bragg. He sketched in the answer, heavily, I remember, for I couldn’t quite rub the marks out. That must have delayed him two or three minutes.’

  ‘All that, then, Mr Parry, boils down to the fact that he must have left at two or three minutes past six?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I suppose you haven’t got the plan you completed?’

  ‘Yes, it’s here. Holford returned it when he had got the foundations in.’

  As he spoke Parry took a small photo print from a drawer. ‘That’s what I did,’ he explained, pointing to certain ink lines and dimensions. ‘And there’s Bragg’s sketch still showing through, in spite of all my rubbing out.’

  French could see the impression of pencil lines moulded in the paper, though they were rubbed clean.

  ‘Now, Mr Parry, will you do as you did before for me? Do that job again and let me see how long it takes.’

  Parry readily agreed. He stretched a piece of tracing paper over the drawing and began scaling distances and marking on dimensions. French, watching him, felt that he was working fairly. Indeed, French did not believe he could have done the job more quickly. It occupied just thirteen minutes.

  If then Parry had left the office at 6.15, this test pretty well confirmed his previous statement. Bragg must have left not later than about two minutes past six.

  Presently Bragg arrived. ‘Here you are, inspector,’ he said. ‘Shall we start now or do you want to wait till six?’

  ‘It’s only a few minutes,’ French answered. ‘I suggest we wait.’

  On inquiry Bragg confirmed the statement Parry had just made on all points. He produced the plan, recognised his pencil marks, and agreed as to the time Parry’s work should have taken. Then at two minutes past six o’clock precisely, the two men left the office.

  ‘I went to the hut here,’ Bragg said, suiting the action to the word, ‘opened it up, started my car, backed out and locked the shed, just as I am doing now.’

  They ran out of the yard, the watchman opening the large gates, and turned along the Drychester road. Bragg drove reasonably fast, neither at a breakneck pace nor a crawl. The road was narrow and winding, and a really high speed was out of the question. The men sat in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts. Mile quickly followed mile till presently they came to the outskirts of Drychester.

  As they drew up before the Drychester Arms, French looked at his watch. It was exactly twelve minutes to seven.

  Bragg, who though outwardly polite was evidently fuming internally, asked shortly if that was all French wanted, as he was anxious to get home. French, who had been doubtful as to whether he should have suggested a drink, was glad to have the question solved for him. He thanked Bragg and said he had quite finished, and Bragg with a curt nod drove off.

  French thereupon settled down for an evening’s investigation. First he talked to the hall porter, then while dining to the waiter, afterwards to the head waiter, and finally to the manager. All of these persons remembered Bragg’s visit, and all were willing to tell him what they knew.

  As a result Bragg’s statement was very fully confirmed. Indeed, French established more than he expected. That Bragg had arrived at the hotel on the evening in question and dined with Miss Lois Lawless was certain, as also it was certain that he returned with her and a couple of others to supper, leaving the hotel about one o’clock. Moreover, the hotel manager had seen Bragg at the theatre: all just as Bragg had said. But in addition French obtained information on the crucial point of the alibi; the exact hour at which Bragg had arrived. It was 6.53. Bragg had, indeed, himself called attention to it in conversation with the head waiter. He had looked at the clock and asked if Miss Lawless had arrived, and had made a joke about the probability of a lady being seven minutes before her time. It was this joke and also the two sevens occuring together—seven minutes to seven—which had fixed the time in the head waiter’s mind.

  It Bragg’s story were true, he had taken five minutes longer to drive over from Whitness on the first occasion than on the second. French, however, thought this was not unreasonable. He had undoubtedly come faster than was necessary on the test run. If
he had known he had plenty of time he would easily have taken another five minutes.

  On the other hand, suppose Bragg was guilty. He would then have taken his car out of the yard and instead of starting out on the Drychester road, which led directly inland from Whitness station, he would have run round to the back of the engineering works and parked. Probably he would have turned before parking, so as to be ready to start away instantly. He would then have re-entered the yard through the small gate and gone to the contractors’ office, knocking to find out whether or not Carey was conscious. That, if he had done it at all, must have taken place at 6.15, as the time at which Parry had seen the silhouetted man was well established. All preparations would doubtless have been made for the murder, but even so, French did not believe it could have been carried out in less than five or six minutes: say, seven minutes altogether from when he entered the hut until he regained his car. That would bring it to 6.23. He had arrived at the hotel at 6.53, that left half an hour for the run.

  French whistled softly as he considered the question of whether Bragg could have run that 20 miles in 30 minutes. At a fairly high speed it had that evening taken him 39 minutes, allowing for the time necessary to start up the car and get it out of the yard. Could that fast run of 39 minutes have been sufficiently speeded up to have been done in 30?

  French did not think it was physically possible. An average speed of 40 miles an hour on that narrow, twisting road he believed was out of the question.

  If so, Bragg was innocent. From this demonstration, innocent of Carey’s murder; from that of the work at the certificate, innocent of Ackerley’s. From both these results, innocent of the fraud. Yes, Bragg was definitely out of it.

  Well, it was always good to get certainty on any point in a case. All the same, if Bragg were no longer a suspect, who was to take his place? So far as French could see, there was no one.

  As he returned to his hotel French felt worried and dispirited. The case was not going as it ought. He had now been working at it for a long time, and his total result, as he put it to himself, was damn all. It was true that it was one of the most unsatisfactory cases he had ever handled. He had to admit it baffled him. There was plenty of evidence and yet, as again he put it to himself, he couldn’t get his teeth in anywhere. Proof, where it existed, was negative. Everything hinged on probabilities. It had begun well. The first two or three points he had tackled had been nebulous when he started on them, and clear and proven when he had finished. But after that everything had remained vague.