Authors: Jean Rowden
‘I’m sure in your case there are plenty of young men prepared to do the chasing,’ Deepbriar said, uncharacteristically gallant. ‘Thank you Miss Blake, you’ve been very helpful.’
He was afraid he might be late for his appointment with Jakes, but Deepbriar hurried off in the opposite direction, seeking out number 5, Alma Villas. It was a large four storey house in the middle of a row. Outside, a privet hedge had been pruned to within an inch of its life. A glimmer of sun, peeping through the clouds that had shredded away since the rain stopped, reflected painfully off the polished brass door-knocker and beneath the knocker a sign forbade entry to gypsies and hawkers.
When he saw the woman who opened the door, Deepbriar was glad he had again taken the precaution of having his identification ready, he felt sure she would otherwise have directed him to the tradesman’s entrance at the back.
‘Well?’ She glared at him, sharp nose, sharp chin and sharp eyes all pointing ferociously in his direction.
‘I’d like a word with you, Mrs Newman. About one of your lodgers.’
‘My guests, you mean,’ she said, every word a reprimand. She gave the street behind him a disapproving glance. ‘I suppose you’d better come in.’
The room she showed him into was as unwelcoming as its owner, with hard chairs pushed back against the walls and a tiny rug in the centre of the brown linoleum. A single shelf on one wall held a meagre selection of books, most of them apparently religious tracts. ‘This is the guests’ sitting-room,’ Mrs Newman said complacently. ‘I do like people to be comfortable when they stay with me. Now, what can I do for you?’
‘I’m looking for a man by the name of Tony Pattridge. I understand he used to lodge here.’
‘Yes.’ She snapped her mouth shut on the word and volunteered no more.
‘But he isn’t here now?’
‘No.’
Deepbriar was losing his patience. ‘So when did he leave?’
‘The Thursday before Christmas, last year.’ Again Mrs Newman snapped her lips shut to prevent any more words escaping.
‘Did he give notice?’
‘No.’
It was like drawing teeth. ‘So he packed up his belongings and left,’ Deepbriar persisted.
‘No. He didn’t take anything with him.’
The constable stared at her, his pulse quickening. Surely they hadn’t got another mysterious disappearance on their hands. ‘Didn’t you think that his sudden departure was strange?’
‘His behaviour struck me as very inconsiderate at the time,’ Mrs Newman said, ‘but then his friends came. They packed up his possessions and paid me two weeks rent, in lieu of notice. As far as I was concerned that was the end of the matter.’
‘His friends? Were they people you knew? Had they visited him while he lived here?’
‘I don’t encourage visitors.’
‘So you didn’t know them?’
She shook her head.
‘What day did they come?’ Deepbriar asked.
‘On the Saturday.’
Deepbriar scribbled hastily in his notebook. ‘And you’ve never seen them again?’
Mrs Newman shook her head again.
‘Then perhaps you could describe them to me,’ Deepbriar suggested.
‘One of them was quite tall. He was the younger man, about thirty perhaps. The other one had grey hair.’
‘There’s nothing else you can tell me about them?’
‘No.’
‘And they took all Mr Pattridge’s possessions with them.’
‘Not all.’ The answer came reluctantly, as if against her will.
‘And these things they left behind,’ Deepbriar said, ‘did Mr Pattridge ever come to claim them?’
‘He did not.’
‘Then you still have them?’
‘There is a small bag in the loft,’ Mrs Newman admitted. ‘The rest I disposed of. He owed me for his laundry. Then there was a broken tooth glass, and damage to the top of the dresser.’
Deepbriar stared down into the hard dark eyes, saying nothing. The Belston town hall would get up and dance the tango before this woman let a chance to make money slip past her. ‘You’ll have written receipts for the goods you sold, naturally,’ he said, glad to see her composure disturbed a little by the suggestion, ‘but we’ll leave that for the moment. I’d like to see his room, and the bag he left behind.’
At exactly three minutes past three Deepbriar arrived breathlessly at Sergeant Jakes’s side, a battered old carpet bag in his hand.
‘Off somewhere for the weekend?’ Jakes jested.
‘Evidence. Once the property of Tony Pattridge,’ Deepbriar puffed, following the detective up the road. ‘He left his lodgings unexpectedly on the Thursday before Christmas last year, and as far as I can make out he hasn’t been seen in Belston since.’
‘Did he leave without paying his bill?’
‘If you’d seen the landlady you wouldn’t ask that question. Rent in advance, I’d stake my life on it.’
Mrs Joseph Spraggs was waiting for them, the door opening a second after Jakes knocked. The make-up was back in place, immaculate, if rather thickly applied; Deepbriar found himself hoping she would keep control of herself this time. At least she had the comfort of knowing her husband’s disappearance was finally being investigated.
The constable sat in silence while Jakes questioned the woman, his pencil poised ready to take notes. Very little that was new emerged from the interview. Joseph Spraggs had left his home at eleven o’clock on Thursday 6th November and gone to Falbrough, for reasons unstated, and had simply failed to return. He had travelled by bus, telling his wife that he was expecting to ‘have a few’ with his lunch. Since he’d scraped the paintwork on his beloved car by misjudging the distance to a gatepost a couple of weeks before, he wouldn’t risk causing more damage to his pride and joy by driving when under the influence.
‘And you were home all that day? There’s no chance he might have returned without your knowledge?’
‘He could have done,’ Mrs Spraggs admitted. ‘I had my hair done. That was at four, and I got home about six.’
‘But you saw nothing to suggest he’d been in the house?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I’d have known if he’d made himself a cup of tea.’
‘And none of his belongings had gone?’
Mrs Spraggs hesitated. ‘There was a small bag missing. And one or two things from the wardrobe.’
The two policemen exchanged glances. ‘Can you be more precise, please Mrs Spraggs? This bag …’
‘It was an old thing he used to take when he played cricket. He hadn’t been for at least ten years though. It wasn’t the sort of thing he’d use if he was going away.’
‘And what else was gone?’ Jakes asked.
‘A suit. And two shirts. But none of them fitted him.’
Jakes stared at her. ‘They didn’t fit?’
‘I’d been meaning to throw them away. He’d put on a bit of weight.’ Mrs Spraggs reached suddenly for her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. ‘Two pairs of socks and some underwear had gone too, but I’m certain he would never have packed them himself.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
Deepbriar looked up from his note-taking, watching the woman’s reaction, half expecting her to be angry, but instead she looked sad.
‘Because the socks were green. He never wore green, he thought it was unlucky. As for the spare underwear, when we went away it never occurred to him to pack that sort of thing, I always had to remind him.’
‘Sergeant,’ Deepbriar put in, seeing that Jakes had run out of questions. ‘There’s something that occurs to me.’
‘Well?’ Jakes prompted.
‘Where was the bag kept? The one Mr Spraggs used for his cricket gear?’
‘It was in the cupboard under the stairs,’ Mrs Spraggs replied. ‘We keep the suitcases in the loft. They take up so much room.’
‘And you hadn’t started packing for your driving holiday.’
‘No.’ Mrs Spraggs gave a shrug. ‘I’m a bit of a last minute person when it comes to packing.’
The sergeant stood up. ‘I wonder if we might take a look at your husband’s car, Mrs Spraggs?’
‘It’s in the garage.’ She rose and led the way through the kitchen and out of the house, pausing to take a bunch of keys from a hook inside the larder. The garage was at the end of the garden, the entrance for the car being off a back alleyway.
‘It’s just possible he planned to leave by car but there was something wrong with it,’ Jakes muttered to Deepbriar, as the woman swung the garage doors open.
The Rover was highly polished, and nearly new. Jakes puffed out a breath of admiration. ‘I take it you don’t drive, Mrs Spraggs? May we check that it starts?’
Wordlessly she handed him the keys, and Jakes reverently opened the car, staring round at the interior with obvious delight. ‘I’d love one of these,’ he said, pressing the starter. The car roared into life at the first attempt, the sound fading to a purr before Jakes reluctantly turned the engine off again and climbed out. Deepbriar meanwhile had walked round to check that none of the tyres were flat.
‘You see?’ Mrs Spraggs shut her husband’s prized possession away again. ‘Joseph spent hours polishing it, and dusting the inside. He never would have gone away and left it.’
‘You mentioned Sylvester Rudge when I first spoke to you,’ Deepbriar said. ‘Exactly what connection did your husband have with him?’
‘That man!’ Her voice was full of venom. ‘They worked together once, but that was years ago, before Joseph and I met. Since then Rudge has never missed a chance to do Joseph a bad turn. He lost him a job at the furniture factory once, just after the war. I know Joseph stepped outside the law now and then, but he never did anything really bad. Not like Rudge; he’s got half the city thinking he’s some kind of saint, giving money to the hospital for the children, paying to have the town hall clock repaired. And all the time he’s got those women in Pier Street, everybody knows what they’re up to, and who they work for, but you lot don’t do a thing about it.’
‘We can’t act without proof, Mrs Spraggs,’ Jakes replied. ‘We have to stay within the law. Your husband’s disappearance for example, do you have any evidence at all that Rudge might be involved?’
She narrowed her eyes, thinking. ‘We saw him about two months ago. It was the day we went to collect the new car. Joseph was so happy, I think he’d have wished the devil himself a good morning. But when he greeted Rudge all he got was a glare for his trouble, and then the man said something under his breath. I’ve been trying to remember the exact words, but I can’t. It was something like, “Enjoy it while you can” or “make the most of it”, and there was so much hate in his voice. Joseph laughed it off, but it scared me.’
‘Nobody else was close enough to hear what he said?’
‘No. I told you, I barely heard it myself. But it was definitely a threat.’
‘One that nobody else heard, and therefore no use as evidence,’ Jakes said with a sigh. ‘Thanks for your time, Mrs Spraggs. If you think of anything else that might be of use, telephone to the station at Falbrough and ask for me or Constable Deepbriar.’
Outside the house Jakes turned to the constable. ‘Those questions about the bag he used. You’re suggesting he was in too much of a hurry to fetch a suitcase from the loft, or sort out the right clothes to take.’
‘No,’ Deepbriar said bleakly. ‘It’s a bit too much like what happened in the case of Tony Pattridge. I think somebody else came and threw a few things into the first bag they could find. I’m afraid Mrs Spraggs is right, I doubt if she’ll ever see her Joseph alive again.’
‘S
o, constable,’ Sergeant Jakes stared at Deepbriar over the rim of his teacup, ‘you believe there’s a link between Tony Pattridge and Joseph Spraggs.’
‘It’s one heck of a coincidence if there isn’t,’ Deepbriar replied. ‘Think about it. Two men who both disappeared unexpectedly. Somebody collected Pattridge’s belongings a few days after he left, though they didn’t bother to take them all.’ He gestured at the bag that occupied another of the Cosy Nook Tearoom’s chairs. ‘And somebody who didn’t know which clothes fitted Joseph Spraggs, or where his suitcase was kept, packed a few of his belongings to make it look as if he’d left home, not realising that the one thing he’d never have left behind was his car.’
‘It’s possible,’ Jakes conceded, ‘though it’s a bit far-fetched, don’t you think? This is Belston, not Chicago. What with the tramp as well, we’ve got three missing men, which would mean we’re looking for a mass murderer. I ask you, is it likely?’ He drained his cup and sighed resignedly. ‘All right, what’s in the bag?’
‘I haven’t looked yet,’ Deepbriar said, ‘I thought we’d better do it together and make it official.’
Jakes looked round at the two elderly ladies at the next table. Another, white-haired and even more ancient, stood behind the counter. ‘Better not empty it in here, you never know what we might find. We’ll go and borrow a room at the station. I want to go and see an old pal there anyway, I think he might be able to help us. This Barbara Blake, did she have any ideas about why Pattridge might have vanished?’
‘She didn’t say.’ Deepbriar wriggled uncomfortably on his seat. ‘I didn’t ask,’ he amended. ‘I should have questioned her about his work and his friends too, shouldn’t I? My first day as a detective and I’m not doing too well.’
‘You were only supposed to be tracking him down for the solicitors,’ Jakes said consolingly, ‘not investigating another suspicious disappearance. In fact, so far Tony Pattridge is no concern of ours, not officially.’ He looked at his watch. ‘We’ve just got time to get back to the library before it shuts.’
Faced with two policemen this time, the elderly librarian looked flustered, and he scowled disapprovingly at the unfortunate Barbara Blake as she was summoned into his room for the second time. ‘Really Miss Blake, if you are mixing with unsavoury characters.…’
‘There’s no suggestion of that,’ Sergeant Jakes interrupted him. ‘You can hardly hold this young lady responsible for the behaviour of people who happened to be at school with her. She’s already given us valuable help with our enquiries. I apologise for the disruption we’re causing you, Mr Falkener, we do appreciate your assistance. The Superintendent often remarks on the amount of support he gets from other local government departments.’
Mollified by this compliment, if such it was, the man withdrew. Jakes smiled at the woman and offered her Falkener’s chair, the only comfortable one in the room; Deepbriar perched himself on a set of library steps in a corner, with notebook and pencil poised.
‘Now, Miss Blake,’ Jakes said, ‘I’m sorry about this, but Constable Deepbriar’s visit to Mrs Newman threw up a few more questions and we’re hoping you might be able to help us answer them.’
She nodded, her eyes wide. ‘I’ve been thinking about it ever since the constable left. Something has happened to Tony, hasn’t it? I wasn’t imagining things. He really did mean what he said …’ With a sudden sob she dropped her head into her hands. ‘I should have known.’ The words came out in fits and starts, muffled by her crying. ‘We were going to tell everyone that weekend. We’d agreed to get engaged at Christmas. Tony was talking about buying me a ring. I was so happy when he asked me to marry him. But then when he went off … I thought he’d changed his mind. Oh, poor Tony. If only I’d guessed, if I’d told somebody.…’
Jakes got up and leant across the desk, taking a large white handkerchief, neatly folded, from his top pocket and giving it to the girl, then patting her gently on the shoulder. Deepbriar was impressed; it was the sort of thing Dick Bland would have done.
‘It’s all right, Miss Blake,’ Jakes said, ‘take your time. We’ll go on when you’ve had a minute to compose yourself.’ He looked at Deepbriar and jerked his head towards the door. ‘Come on, constable.’
In the narrow corridor outside the reading-room Jakes whispered in Deepbriar’s ear. ‘I’m getting a nasty feeling about this, you could be right. She’s a bit of a corker isn’t she? If he’d just walked out, taken his stuff and quit his lodgings in the normal way, I might believe he’d had second thoughts about getting married, but it doesn’t look that way, does it?’
‘No,’ Deepbriar said. ‘You know, I saw his father’s suicide note. There was something in it that suggested he’d been expecting Tony to call and see him at Christmas. Those presents they were buying, you reckon Miss Blake would know if the boy bought one for his old man?’
‘We’ll ask. You were right, constable, there are too many coincidences, it’s a lot like what happened to Spraggs almost a year later. Somebody must have wanted both these men out of the way.’
Deepbriar ran his hand over his short-cropped hair. ‘But it’s crazy. Like you said, this is England. We don’t have gangsters going around disposing of their enemies at the drop of a hat.’
‘Maybe we do, but we don’t know it,’ Jakes said reasonably. ‘Either way, it’s our job to find the answer. So far, that’s the only theory that fits the small amount of evidence we’ve got.’ Jakes hesitated for a second. ‘Look, Thorny … You don’t mind if I call you Thorny?’
Deepbriar shook his head, and Jakes went on. ‘I admit I could be wrong. I may have the rank but you’re older than me, with a lot more years in the force behind you. This is the first time I’ve been allowed to investigate anything this serious on my own, and it’s only because of the flu epidemic. Two heads are better than one, and I can do with all the help you can give me. I promise I’ll give you due credit if we get it sorted out. Well?’
‘Agreed,’ Deepbriar said.
Jakes looked relieved. ‘Any time you think I’m getting it wrong then go ahead and tell me. Though not in front of a pretty girl like Miss Blake, if you don’t mind,’ he added with a grin. ‘And if there’s any questions you want answered when I’m conducting an interview, I don’t see why you shouldn’t ask them. Come on, let’s see what else she can tell us.’
The young woman was sitting straight shouldered and dryeyed when they returned. Deepbriar was pleased to note that there was no smudged make-up on her face; unlike Mrs Spraggs her colour was all her own.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It was a bit of a shock, you coming to see me after all this time. I’d thought about it you see. For months I’ve gone over and over those last few days in my mind. I was never sure which was worse, Tony leaving me because he’d been lying and he didn’t love me after all, or something dreadful happening to him. It sounds awful saying that now. I should have known. I should have trusted him.’
Jakes shook his head. ‘I’m sure there’s no blame to you, Miss Blake. None of this was your fault. Tell me, when you and Mr Pattridge did your Christmas shopping, do you know if he bought a present for his father?’
‘Yes, he did. We spent a long time over it, too. He bought him a pair of gloves, really nice leather ones, with a furry lining.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘They were quite expensive. Tony stood at the counter doing sums on a piece of paper, making sure he’d still have enough to take me to the pictures and buy me an ice cream. He laughed about it, and he said he’d never be that hard up again.’
‘So, he was expecting to come into some money very soon. Do you know where he was working?’
‘He didn’t have a regular job. Now and then he’d help out one of his friends with his stall at the market, selling material and haberdashery, and sometimes he drove a car for a company in Falbrough.’
‘Do you know if he ever worked for somebody called Rudge?’ Jakes asked.
‘I don’t know,’ she replied. ‘He didn’t talk about work very often.’
‘What about his friend at the market?’ Deepbriar put in. ‘Did you ever hear what he was called?’
‘Charlie,’ she replied. ‘That’s all I know. I met him once. He’s not very tall, only about five foot three, with very pale blond hair. But Tony said he wouldn’t be doing that job much longer anyway, because he’d got something better lined up.’
Barbara Blake flushed and Jakes nodded at her encouragingly. ‘Go on.’
‘Well, I think that’s why he finally asked me to marry him. He was going to have enough money to get us a little place to live.’ She smiled, her eyes distant as she stared back into the past. ‘It was supposed to be a surprise, he wouldn’t tell me any details, but he was full of his plans.’
‘You think he’d been offered a job. But he didn’t give you any hint of what it might be?’
‘It was something to do with driving,’ she replied. ‘He loved cars. He said it was the only good thing he got out of doing his National Service, learning to drive. It’s funny, because I never thought drivers earned very much.’
‘They don’t, as a rule,’ Jakes said, exchanging a significant glance with Deepbriar.
The bag swinging from Deepbriar’s hand wasn’t heavy, yet he felt it an increasing weight as he followed Jakes out of the library. ‘Are we going back to the station now, sarge? There could be something important in here.’
‘Yes, but there’s somebody else we could talk to,’ Jakes said, checking his watch.
‘Charlie,’ Deepbriar hazarded.
‘Yes, Charlie who has a market stall.’ They crossed the High Street, walking fast. ‘He’ll be clearing up by now, but we might catch him.’
Jakes asked the first stall holder they found, a wiry old man throwing tired-looking cabbages into a sack. He directed them to a stall a few yards further on, where a young man with silver blond hair was taking down a display of linen and curtain materials and loading it into an ancient van.
‘Would you be Charlie?’ Jakes asked, showing his identification.
‘That’s me,’ the youth said cheerfully, completely untroubled by the presence of two police officers. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘You know a man by the name of Tony Pattridge.’
‘Yes, I know Tony. He worked for me sometimes, just the odd day. Haven’t seen him in ages.’ He stowed some towels in the van then turned to face them. ‘Can’t say I’m sorry, to be honest.’
‘Why’s that?’ Jakes prompted.
‘Well, we went about together a lot for a while, just after we’d done our National Service, you know, a pair of lads out for a good time. But Tony was getting up to a few things I didn’t like, mixing with a bad crowd.’ He smiled. ‘I’d met my Janice by then, and I was thinking about settling down. I didn’t want to be getting into trouble, or her dad would have been after me.’
‘This bad crowd, do you know any of their names?’ Deepbriar asked.
Charlie hesitated for a moment. ‘Yes, there was one called Wilky. Shifty looking bloke. He came to the races with us once. Once was enough for me, but I think Tony saw quite a lot of him. There was even a rumour that Tony was getting caught up with Sylvester Rudge, but I wouldn’t know about that, I don’t move in those sort of circles.’
The two policemen exchanged glances.
‘You don’t mind if I get on?’ The young man folded up a heap of tea towels, and added them to the stock gradually filling his van. ‘So, what’s Tony been up to? I thought he’d moved away, he often talked about heading for The Smoke. Last time we met he touched me for a couple of quid, about a week before Christmas that was. I knew at the time I’d never see the money again, but you know how it is, old mates and that. Is he in trouble?’
Jakes didn’t answer him, merely thanking the man for his help. ‘Does all right, does it, selling this stuff?’ he asked, pointing to the goods Charlie was packing away.
‘Not bad. Janice wants me to go into dress materials, there’s more call for that now, seeing there’s some good cloth coming in from the Far East. The ladies are always keen to get their hands on something colourful.’
They left him to his work and headed back towards the police station. ‘So,’ Jakes said, ‘Pattridge was getting into mischief and Charlie didn’t want to know? Did you believe him?’
‘No reason not to,’ Deepbriar said. ‘If he was lying he’s very good at it. Didn’t get the feeling he was two-faced.’
‘No, me neither,’ Jakes said. Then he stopped dead in the street, so suddenly that a large woman carrying two well-laden baskets nearly walked straight into his back. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered absently, as she pushed angrily past him.
‘What’s wrong?’ Deepbriar asked.
‘The date. Pattridge touched Charlie for a loan, probably to buy that Christmas present for his Dad, and to take his girlfriend to the pictures. He told Miss Blake he’d be coming into some money very soon, and he was going to buy her a ring. Pattridge was a driver, right? And we know his reputation, even that he might have got involved with Rudge. Remember the date when he vanished? Thursday before Christmas last year. Does it ring any bells?’
‘The Somerson robbery!’ Deepbriar rubbed at his forehead, missing the familiar weight of his helmet. ‘You think Pattridge was in on that?’
Jakes nodded, ‘It all fits! And there’s something else. The getaway car was found on its side in a ditch the next day.’
‘I heard about that. They skidded in the mud.’
‘Yes. But you probably won’t have heard that there was blood on the front seats. We always thought the driver must have been injured when the car left the road, though there wasn’t a lot of damage. We checked all the local doctors and hospitals, but we never turned anything up. The windscreen was shattered, there was glass everywhere, it’s just possible the driver was thrown out of the car. Suppose it was Pattridge?’
‘It could have been. You think the accident killed him?’ Deepbriar was sceptical.
‘Maybe. But it might not have been quite that serious. If his face was cut he could have decided to make himself scarce,’ Jakes suggested, ‘and if he was permanently disfigured he might have thought his girl wouldn’t want him any more. Anyway, his injuries would have pointed to his involvement in the robbery, so he could hardly go back to his lodgings as if nothing had happened. Or maybe he died, in which case his accomplices might have shovelled him into a hole somewhere, or just tipped him into the river.’