Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Alec gestured at Ernie, who took the folder, laid it on the nearest desk, and opened it.
“Clement Rosworth. Address is a local boarding house, Chief. Run by a Miss Florence Dill.” He wrote down the address in his notebook. “But there’s a bunch of others crossed out. Looks as if he’s moved about a bit since the War.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. Quite apart from the discomforts of boarding-house life, assuming he’s been planning this pretty much ever since he was told, he wouldn’t want to get too close to anyone.”
“Chief Inspector, may I ask…?” Hodder said tentatively. He had a piece of paper in his hand, taken down from several drawing-pinned to a board on the wall.
“’Fraid not, Mr. Hodder. I will say that there would not appear to be any danger to anyone at the Hertford Brewery. Telephone number, Ernie?”
“No such luck. It’s mostly pay and pension details. That the schedule you’ve got there, Mr. Hodder?”
“Yes, Rosworth’s schedule for next week. I’m afraid it’s a carbon copy. The master sheet will be in the yard office.”
Ernie took it and cast a glance over it. “This’ll do, thank you, sir.”
Meanwhile, Tom had been wandering about the room, looking at the group portraits hanging on the walls. He took one down. “This one’s the latest, Chief. Looks like it might blow up well. The names are printed underneath so he’s definitely in it.”
“Careless of him. May we borrow it, Mr. Hodder?”
“Of course, of course. Anything I can do to help.”
Tom already had the photo out of its frame. He looked at the back. “Local photographer’s stamp.”
“Good! One more thing, Mr. Hodder, if it won’t be trespassing on your kindness. You must be anxious to get home, but I would very much appreciate it if you would accompany DC Piper to see Mr. Garvey, just to reassure him that it’s in order for him to assist us.”
“By all means, Chief Inspector.”
“Excellent.” Alec turned to the door. “I’ll drop you both off at his house. I’m going to the police station to sort things out there. I’ll send someone to Garvey’s to drive you home, Mr. Hodder.”
“Oh, no, indeed.” Hodder locked the door behind him. “That won’t be necessary. We’re quite a small town still, though growing, growing. The rain seems to have stopped. I can very well walk home.”
“It’s nearly dark. I’ll send the car. Piper, if you’re not finished with Garvey when the car arrives, have it come back for you. We can’t waste any time.”
When Alec and Tom arrived at the police station, the local superintendent was already there and the chief constable of the county was on his way.
Luckily the super was a reasonable man and understood the urgency of the case.
Alec hoped the CC would be willing to admit they were still on the same case.
If he decided to be awkward, or to take a personal hand in things, he could delay them considerably.
Best to get things started without him.
After arranging for enlargements of the photograph to be printed, he said to Superintendent Starke, “The first thing, sir, is to find out whether Rosworth is at home. If so, we should be able to get the job done without a fuss. But I’ll need to post men all round the house, or front and back if it’s a terrace—”
“It is,” the local inspector confirmed.
“Good. What I propose is to send DS Tring here into the house. Depending on the suspect’s presence or absence, he’ll attempt an arrest or have a chat with the landlady.”
“To find out whether she has any idea where the fellow’s got to,” said Starke intelligently. Of course, superintendents, who had worked for their rank, were often if not always more intelligent than chief constables appointed because of their connections.
“Exactly, sir.”
The details were quickly worked out and they left the station before either the CC or Ernie Piper arrived. A very unhappy Sergeant Jimmy Copeland was left behind to hold the fort, which included explaining matters to the chief constable.
“Sir George can’t hold you responsible, Sergeant,” said Starke cheerfully. “You can blame it all on me.” Which was kind of him, but didn’t change the fact that the blame would all be Alec’s if things went wrong.
It was completely dark by now, the street lamps islands of light, but at least the rain hadn’t started again. The air was cool, but fresh and pleasant.
The boarding house was just a couple of minutes’ walk away. The inspector and a constable who knew the beat well were to go round to the alley at the back. Though terraced, their target was taller than its neighbours, they agreed, and easy to recognise from behind.
“Er, if you don’t mind me making a suggestion, Chief Inspector,” said the inspector as they reached the corner of the street, “Miss Dill is what they call a ‘gentlewoman in distressed circumstances.’ She might take more kindly to you than to Mr. Tring.”
Tom made an inarticulate sound of protest.
“Don’t you worry about that, Inspector,” said Alec.
“DS Tring can do genteel with the best of them. Or jovial commercial, or tough customer. His size is intimidating, but he’s quick on his feet.
If Rosworth is there, he’s much more likely to come quietly when he sees Tom at his door, and if he doesn’t, Tom can cope with him. ”
“Spare my blushes, Chief!”
The inspector looked Tom up and down. “Don’t say I wouldn’t go quietly myself,” he admitted.
They split up. Alec and Tom walked briskly along the near side of the street, while Starke and a couple of detective constables strolled down the opposite pavement, apparently chatting.
The terraced row had no front gardens, just fenced areas with steps down to semi-basements, suggesting more prosperous times.
Though it wasn’t really very late, Alec was relieved to see a light in the bay window at the front of the boarding house.
Landladies, genteel or not, were not apt to be helpful if summoned unwillingly from their beds.
Taking out his pipe, he made a great play of tapping out the dottle on the fence, blowing out the last scraps of ash, taking out his tobacco pouch, selecting a pinch of tobacco and stuffing it into the bowl.
The process of lighting it could be spun out indefinitely.
Meanwhile the three on the far side had stopped one house along, apparently engaged in argument.
There were trees on that side, and they were nearly invisible in the shadow.
And Tom had ascended the front steps to knock on Miss Dill’s front door.
As Alec lit his first match, the fanlight above the door lit up, and the door was opened on a chain.
Tom raised his hat. “I do beg your pardon for disturbing you, madam,” he said in the voice he kept for witnesses not merely genteel but aristocratic. “May I enquire, is Mr. Rosworth at home?”
“I believe not,” said a thin, elderly voice. “I didn’t hear him come in, and he hasn’t left his key on the hook. I do insist on that. Suppose there were a fire and I didn’t know how many people were in the house?”
“Very sensible, madam.” Behind his back, Tom showed a thumbs-down sign. Alec, in any case, could hear every word.
“I’m afraid Mr. Rosworth is not an educated person—one has to take whomever one can find these days—but he is extremely reliable, although as a travelling man he cannot always let me know in advance when he will return.”
“Quite understandable, madam. May I ask—But perhaps you’d allow me to come in for a moment instead of keeping you standing at the door?”
The door closed. The chain rattled. The door reopened. Tom disappeared within. Alec allowed the fourth match to light his pipe and, puffing, strolled across the street to join the disputatious group on the other side.
“What did I tell you? Tring has a deuced smooth tongue. The old lady didn’t even ask who he was or what he wanted. One can’t help wondering whether she has to take in boarders because she lost her money to a con man.”
“He didn’t have a chance to show his warrant card?” Starke asked sharply. “He’ll show it once he’s inside?”
“Of course, sir. From what I heard, it seems probable, but not certain, that Rosworth isn’t there.
He may come home, and we’re a bit conspicuous.
We’d better split up. You two—” he indicated the constables “—cross over. Leisurely, don’t rush.
One of you can go down the area steps next door, as if you’re visiting a maid or the occupant of the basement flat.
Stay below street level. The other can walk back and forth, smoking and glancing at your watch from time to time, as if you’re waiting for your pal.
You can whistle if you want, as long as you can listen at the same time.
Off you go. You and I, sir, will just move closer to this tree, where the shadow’s deepest.”
“Don’t you think—Sorry, Chief Inspector! You’re in charge.”
Alec managed not to grind his teeth. Superior officers accustomed to desk jobs were a real menace when they insisted on standing obbo. They’d almost always forgotten that patience was the name of the game.
“We’ll just watch and listen, if you don’t mind, sir.”
Across the way, lights went on in the windows above the front door, successively on the first and second floors.
Tom was on his way upstairs to make sure Rosworth really wasn’t in his room.
A couple of minutes later, his silhouette appeared on the second-floor window blind.
A few seconds of shadow-play clearly indicated a negative.
Alec released his held breath.
“Should have gone on the stage,” Starke murmured appreciatively as the top light went out.
The lower light disappeared.
“Now he’ll have a nice chat with Miss Dill. Knowing Tring, he’ll be offered a cuppa and a slice of cake, too, lucky beggar.”
“Peckish?”
“Dinner seems a long time ago. I ate at five.”
“Ah, those were the days! Grab a bite when you can. One tends to remember the occasional excitement and forget the inconveniences. I expect they’ll be able to exhume a few sandwiches for you when we get back to the station.”
“By then, I might even be ready to eat them.”
“You’re expecting to be here for—”
“Hush! Someone’s coming.”
From the direction of the town centre, a man was walking towards them. His face, shadowed by his hat, was invisible. He was not noticeably tall, nor noticeably burly, but his brisk step suggested physical strength.
“Rosworth?” breathed the superintendent.
“Could be. What little description we have is pretty vague, but such as it is, he matches.”