Bury in Haste (14 page)

‘It’s not really my …’ Deepbriar began, but she plunged on.

‘They say it’s not their business if a man decides to leave home without telling his wife. I know what they think, they think he’s run off, chasing after some other woman. But Joseph wouldn’t do that. As if I don’t know my own husband!’

As sudden and unexpected as a summer storm, her emotions overcame her and she began to cry, words spilling out between her sobs. ‘I told them, even if he didn’t care that much about me, he wouldn’t leave his precious car … He hadn’t had it long and he never would have left it.…’

Deepbriar looked an appeal at his wife and she moved in, her ample bosom heaving in sympathy. ‘You poor dear. Now, don’t you worry. My husband will sort things out, won’t you, Thorny?’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ he said gruffly.

Mrs Spraggs looked up at him, her eyes ringed by smears of make-up. ‘I was so relieved when young Joe told me you’d been asking about Joseph. I went to the city police first, but Joseph has made a lot of enemies in Belston. When I told them he’d gone to Falbrough the day he disappeared they sent me there, but it was no better. Those wretches just wouldn’t listen.’ She dried her tears, spreading her eye make-up even further until she looked grotesquely like a panda. ‘They weren’t prepared to lift a finger to help look for him. Just because he’s been in trouble a couple of times.’

‘Joe mentioned that,’ Deepbriar said, sounding more sympathetic than he felt. He needed the woman’s co-operation, and he wouldn’t get it by taking the high moral ground. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t his fault. He got into bad company, I dare say.’

‘Yes, that’s it,’ she said fiercely. ‘It was that Rudge. Everyone knows he’s a villain, but he never gets caught. It’s always somebody like my Joseph who gets dragged off to court.’

Sylvester Rudge was well known in Belston, an apparently respectable business man with a finger in every kind of criminal pie. His name had been connected with everything from receiving stolen goods to organised brothels and counterfeit money, but, as Mrs Spraggs said, whenever the police investigated these matters there was never any proof of his involvement. Deepbriar tried to think where he had heard Rudge’s name mentioned recently, but although the memory was not far from the surface of his mind, he couldn’t recall the details. He let it go for the present, reaching for his notebook and pencil.

‘But Joseph’s not in trouble with the law this time, is he Mrs Spraggs? The police aren’t looking for him. So why would he decide to do a vanishing act?’

‘He didn’t!’ She was indignant. ‘Oh, he’s gone right enough, but it wasn’t of his own accord! He got on the wrong side of that conniving bastard, that’s what it was.’ Catching sight of Mary Deepbriar’s disapproval at her language Mrs Spraggs muttered an apology. ‘That’s what Sylvester flippin’ Rudge is, though,’ she muttered, ‘and I don’t care who hears me say so.’

‘You’re making a very serious accusation,’ Deepbriar said. ‘If you’re blaming Rudge for your husband’s disappearance.’

‘It was him or some of his muscle men,’ Mrs Spraggs replied. She slumped, collapsing back into the armchair. ‘I think they killed him,’ she said, her voice suddenly quiet. ‘That’s what I think.’

Having escorted Mrs Spraggs to the bus stop and seen her safely on to the last bus to Belston, Deepbriar returned home for his belated tea. It had been a long day.

‘That poor woman,’ Mary said, coming out of the scullery with her hands full of his uniform. It seemed she had worked her magic, for it smelt of nothing worse than damp wool. ‘You will help her, won’t you?’

‘Like I said, I’ll do what I can,’ he replied. ‘With what she told me and the statement I took from young Joe Spraggs, I think I should be able to get Inspector Stubbs interested, but I’m willing to bet there’ll be trouble from the Sarge. He won’t like me going over his head.’

Mary hardly seemed to be listening. ‘Imagine,’ she murmured, ‘knowing your husband’s been murdered!’

‘She doesn’t know anything of the kind,’ Deepbriar replied. ‘And mind you don’t go talking about any of this, or I’ll be in even more hot water!’

‘As if I would. So what will happen now?’

‘It’ll be a CID job. And if they track the man down and he’s just keeping out of sight for reasons of his own then there’ll be hell to pay. For Mrs Spraggs too. She’ll be facing a charge of wasting police time.’

‘But you don’t think that’s going to happen, do you?’

‘No,’ Deepbriar said sombrely, ‘I don’t. Not after that business with young Joe. I’m not sure how, call it instinct if you like, but I’ve got a nasty feeling this is all somehow tied up with what happened to Bronc.’

Mary Deepbriar shook out her husband’s uniform and draped it over a chair. ‘Well, there’s nothing more you can do tonight. You must be hungry.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘But before you sit down you’d better try and get rid of that smell. I’m fairly sure I’ve got it out of your clothes; I think it must be in your hair.’

By opening time the whole village knew the story of Bert Bunyard’s capture, and the return of the missing pig. The Speckled Goose was buzzing when Thorny Deepbriar poked his head round the back door.

‘Thorny!’ Don Bartle greeted him with a grin. ‘The hero of the hour! Are you coming in for a pint? Don’t reckon you’d be paying for your own tonight. In fact the first one’s on the house.’

‘Thanks, Don, but not now,’ the constable replied. ‘I just wanted a word with Harry. Can you tell him I’m here without letting on to the rest of them? Only I promised Mary I wouldn’t be long. Hardly seem to have seen her the last couple of weeks.’

‘He’s just putting a new barrel on tap, he’ll not be long. Make yourself at home in the kitchen and I’ll send him in.’

From somewhere below their feet a voice was bellowing tunelessly; by concentrating hard Deepbriar could just make out the words. Harry evidently thought he was singing
Blue Moon
, but as usual it sounded more like a cow in labour. With a pained expression Don shrugged, ‘sorry, but we haven’t the heart to stop him, and it’s only when he’s in the cellar.’

‘Perhaps you could have his voice trained,’ Deepbriar suggested.

‘What as?’ The publican shook his head in mock sorrow as he went back to his work. ‘There’s no call for air raid sirens any more.’

Harry Bartle arrived a couple of minutes later, rolling down his sleeves. ‘Hello, Mr Deepbriar. Dad said you didn’t want to come into the bar.’

‘No, I just need a quick word, Harry. I’m trying to remember something and I thought you might be able to help me. Was it you who mentioned the name of Sylvester Rudge?’

‘To do with what?’ Harry asked. ‘I don’t recall him coming up in conversation recently.’ He scratched his head, thinking. ‘There was some talk of him whipping up a bit of that bad feeling on the picket line. Not that he was there himself of course, but one or two of his sidekicks were supposed to have been involved.’

‘No, that wasn’t it. Nothing else? That stranger who was seen talking to Bronc, I don’t suppose that could have been Rudge?’

‘I thought everyone who saw that man agreed he was about average height.’

Deepbriar nodded. ‘That’s true. So unless Rudge has taken to wearing high heeled boots it wasn’t him. But I have definitely heard his name somewhere. Oh well, never mind, it’ll come to me.’ He sighed. ‘Only one more call to make before I take the weight off my feet.’

Emily Spraggs opened the door, smiling when she saw who her visitor was. ‘I’ve just made a fresh pot of tea,’ she said, stepping back to welcome the constable inside. ‘Would you like a cup?’

‘Better not,’ Deepbriar said, ‘I promised Mrs Deepbriar I’d only be out a few minutes. I just wanted to speak to Joe.’

When asked about Sylvester Rudge, Joe shook his head decisively. ‘No, it wasn’t me who mentioned him Mr Deepbriar. He’s a really bad lot, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, probably, but the police have never been able to gather a single shred of evidence to connect him to any crime, so don’t you go telling anyone I said so.’

Joe nodded. ‘Peter’s cousin works for the insurance company that had to pay out over that robbery at the jewellery shop in Falbrough. He told Peter the police reckoned Rudge was behind that. It seemed like everybody knew but nobody could do anything about it.’

‘That’s it!’ Deepbriar clapped his hands together in triumph and stared at the bemused Spraggs. ‘It was your friend Peter, in the Speckled Goose. That’s where I heard the name.’ He shook his head. ‘Doesn’t do me any good, though, he was just joking, saying maybe your boss had somehow upset him, and Rudge had you kidnapped as a warning to him to keep his nose clean in the future.’

‘Mr Wriggle would never have anything to do with Rudge,’ Joe said decisively, ‘he’d be too scared!’

‘Wise man,’ Deepbriar said. ‘You don’t know of any connection between the other Joseph Spraggs and Sylvester Rudge I suppose?’

‘No. You don’t really think Rudge was involved in what happened to me, do you?’

‘It’s not likely.’ Deepbriar hesitated, then decided to go on. ‘Mrs Spraggs seems to think he might be responsible for her husband going missing, though I doubt if he’d have made the mistake of having the wrong Joe Spraggs kidnapped! None of it makes much sense, and that’s a fact.’

‘Maybe it’s one of those mysteries that we’ll never get to the bottom of,’ Emily put in. ‘Like the
Marie Celeste
.’

‘Maybe,’ Deepbriar agreed, ‘but in the meantime keep your door locked, just in case.’

‘I
t ain’t exactly a capital offence,’ Bert Bunyard protested, ‘stealin’ a bleedin’ pig!’

‘No,’ Sergeant Jakes agreed, ‘but that’s not why you’re here. You were found on Air Ministry property, Mr Bunyard. You’ve been making free with a lot more than Ferdy Quinn’s pig, and the government aren’t likely to be happy about that.’

‘Air Ministry property? That ol’ place is all closed down. Went off an’ left it they did, so what’s it to them if I go up an’ take a look around?’

‘You did more than take a look around,’ Jakes said sternly.

‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about,’ the old farmer said dismissively. ‘Lot o’ bliddy fules you coppers, ain’t got more nor ’alf a brain between the lot of you. If I did ’elp meself to a pig it ain’t no more than I’m due, you got no call to go arrestin’ me. Anyways, I’d ’a’ thought you’d got somethin’ better to do than pesterin’ a ’ard workin’ man. But then you was runnin’ all over the village like ’eadless chickens lookin’ for that tramp, when you ’adn’t got a clue where ’e’d bin, nor yet where ’e’s gorn. I was laughin’ so much I got a stitch in me side.’

‘Like you laughed about that little trick with the plaster cast,’ Jakes nodded. ‘Which reminds me, you stole that from the village hall, so we can add breaking and entering to the list on the charge sheet.’

‘There wasn’t no breakin’ an’ enterin’, that Emerson woman left the doors wide open, good as a proper invite it was. There ain’t no ’arm in a bit of a joke, an’ that’s all I done. You can’t keep me ’ere like this for ’avin’ a laugh. I got my rights.’

‘Your rights!’ Jakes hissed, leaning over the desk to bring his face close to Bunyard’s. ‘You’ll be lucky if you don’t finish up on the end of a rope, Mr Bunyard, so don’t you go talking about your rights to me!’

‘You what?’ For the first time Bert’s assurance cracked. He swivelled nervously to look at Deepbriar, who stood back against the wall as if at attention. The constable kept his face expressionless, refusing to meet Bunyard’s eyes.

Jakes opened a fat folder that lay before him, careful not to let the man at the opposite side of the desk see what was inside. ‘You made pretty free with government property, didn’t you? Those half dozen tins of corned beef were only the tip of the iceberg.’

‘I found ’em under the floorboards,’ Bert protested. ‘Must’ve bin hidden there since the War an’ forgotten. Wasn’t like anyone wanted ’em.’

‘We’ve only got your word for that. But I’m more concerned about other things going missing. Maybe it’s time we talked about high explosives.’

‘High explosives?’ This time Bert was really shaken, his jaw sagging as he gawped at the detective.

Jakes leant back in his chair. ‘Come on, Bunyard, don’t play the innocent with me. We’ve been keeping an eye on that aerodrome for quite a time. I know you weren’t the only one involved, so if you want to give us the names of your associates, then maybe I’ll put a good word in for you at the trial. You’d best come clean. Treason’s still a hanging offence, you know.’

The air came out of Bert’s lungs in a kind of strangled gasp. ‘Wha … treas …’ He was thoroughly jittery now, flinging another imploring look at the impassive Deepbriar. Seeing nothing there to reassure him he rose to his feet, taking refuge in the kind of bullying bluster that had always served him in the past. ‘You’re not pinnin’ anythin’ on me. I don’t deny I made meself comfortable in that ol’ hut, but I ain’t done nothin’ else—’

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Jakes made an impatient noise. ‘Come in,’ he shouted.

Sergeant Hubbard entered and bent to whisper in Jakes’s ear.

‘Oh, all right,’ Jakes said, getting up from his chair. ‘Sit down,’ he ordered, pointing a peremptory finger at Bunyard, who immediately subsided. With some ostentation Jakes closed the folder and tucked it under his arm in such a way that the impressive crest on the front was plainly visible. ‘Keep an eye on him, constable,’ he ordered, as he left.

There was a long silence. Deepbriar kept his gaze fixed on the closed door behind Bunyard, as if willing Jakes to return.

‘Hey, Deepbriar,’ the prisoner said at last. ‘What the ’ell’s goin’ on?’

The constable said nothing, refusing even to meet the man’s eyes.

‘Come on, Thorny,’ Bunyard said, his voice taking on a wheedling tone. ‘Don’t you go gettin’ all official with me. I remember when you was no more’n a bit of a lad fishin’ for tiddlers in the duck pond. What’s this all about?’

‘I’m under orders,’ Deepbriar said woodenly. ‘I’m not supposed to talk to you.’

‘Blimey …’ the man fidgeted in his chair. ‘You’re ’avin’ me on, you an that sergeant. It’s a joke, right?’

‘I wish it was,’ Deepbriar said quietly, his expression sombre. He was enjoying himself; maybe he ought to join Mary in her amateur dramatics. ‘I can’t help feeling sorry for that boy of yours, left to cope on his own, poor lad.’

‘Christ!’ Bunyard was seriously worried by now. ‘I don’t get it. I ain’t been up to nothin’ bad. Least ways, nothin’ like … ’ell’s teeth, Thorny, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to ’ave done!’

‘You aren’t doing yourself any favours refusing to talk to Sergeant Jakes,’ Deepbriar said, pitching his voice low as if afraid somebody in the corridor outside might hear. ‘He’s sure you’ve got something to hide, so he reckons you’re tied in with this gang that Scotland Yard are after.’

‘Scotland Yard?’ Bunyard rubbed a hand over his chin, the bristles making a brittle rasping noise.

‘Shh!’ Deepbriar lowered his voice still further, glancing at the door. ‘You’d have done better making a confession straight off. I mean, as far as I was concerned it was just a bit of criminal damage, not all that serious, even if you take account of setting a fire and stealing a pig.’

‘But that’s it!’ Bert protested. ‘There ain’t no more. I don’t know nothin’ about no gang. What would I do with explosives, eh? I was just gettin’ my own back on Ferdy Quinn!’

‘I’m sorry, Bert,’ Deepbriar looked at his victim sorrowfully, ‘I wish I could help you, but it’s out of my hands. The word is, the men from London will be here in a couple of hours. That’s why Jakes is in such a hurry.’

‘London?’ Bunyard’s voice rose to a squeak. ‘What’s flippin’ London got to do with it?’

‘I told you, Scotland Yard. State security. The Air Ministry have turned the matter over to them. Be better for us local bobbies if the case was all wrapped up before they get here, but I don’t see much hope of that.’

‘What if I was to tell that detective all I done?’ Bert was almost begging now. ‘Maybe ’e ain’t so stupid as ’e looks, eh? I thought ’e was still wet be’ind the ears, that’s why I didn’t want to tell ’im nothin’. Go on, Thorny, be a mate an’ call ’im back.’

‘Thank you, constable,’ Jakes said, taking the two pages of Bert Bunyard’s confession from Deepbriar’s hand. ‘There’s more than enough here to get us a conviction, and in the meantime a few days behind bars won’t do our Mr Bunyard any harm. It might teach him to have a little respect for the law.’

‘Thank
you
, sergeant,’ Deepbriar replied. ‘That’s the first time I’ve ever got the better of Bert Bunyard, and it’ll probably be the last, but I shall cherish the memory for the rest of my days. What’s in there?’ he asked, looking down at the folder that now lay in front of the detective. ‘It looks pretty important.’

‘Information leaflets issued by the powers that be,’ Jakes told him, ‘relating to such vital items as uniform regulations and the proper way to carry and wield your truncheon. I’m surprised you didn’t recognise it, it’s been in the staff room for as long as I can remember, for the general edification of all ranks.’ He opened it and drew out a sheet of paper at random. ‘This one’s fairly new, it’s a proposal for a decrease in the regulation height of police officers, which the county is taking under consideration. A whole inch and a half. It won’t matter if you start to shrink in your old age, constable.’

‘Very useful,’ Deepbriar said. ‘One more thing, though, can we let Bunyard sweat about Scotland Yard? Just for an hour or two?’

‘Do you know,’ Jakes said, sitting at his desk and leaning back with his hands behind his head. ‘I think Mr Bunyard’s got an overactive imagination, not to mention a guilty conscience. You’d have thought he’d realise we were just playing a little joke on him.’ He grinned. ‘It was quite a good one too, almost as good as his trick with the plaster cast. He kept that up for weeks, didn’t he, but I suppose we’ll have to own up.’

‘You want me to go and set him straight?’ Deepbriar asked.

‘Well, yes, but since he’s had such a bad morning, maybe we should leave him in peace for a while.’ He glanced up at the clock. ‘Let’s be civilised and offer him some lunch at twelve thirty, shall we?’

‘I’ll take it to him myself,’ Deepbriar promised.

Jakes sighed. ‘I wish our other case could be as easily dealt with. We’re no nearer finding old Bronc than we were the first day we started looking.’

‘It’s strange the way Bert mentioned that. He can’t resist any chance to rub our noses in our mistakes, but I couldn’t help thinking he knows something.’

‘It’s possible,’ Jakes agreed. ‘Perhaps you’d better ask him. Before you let him in on our little joke.’

‘I’ll do that.’ Deepbriar reached into his pocket and pulled out some papers. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got another matter I need to talk to you about. I was going to see Inspector Stubbs, but I gather he’s not likely to get back today.’

‘No, nor tomorrow. It seems these burglaries have been linked to a gang working up north.’ Jakes sighed again. ‘So, if you want to talk to CID, then I’m your man.’

‘It’s about Joseph Spraggs.’

‘Oh, not that again. Somebody looked into it, and there’s nothing suspicious about the man’s disappearance. He left his wife.’

‘I don’t think so. If you’d just take a look at these statements I think you’ll agree that there’s cause for concern. There’s one from Mrs Spraggs, and another from her husband’s friend, a man called Halliwell. I spoke to him before I came here this morning. He met Spraggs at the Queen’s Head in Falbrough on Wednesday the 5th, which is the day before his wife last saw him. Spraggs was boasting about his new car, and mapping out the route he and Mrs Spraggs were planning to take that weekend when they drove up north to see one of her relations.

‘Halliwell has known Spraggs pretty much all his life. He’s convinced that the man had no intention of deserting his wife, and even if he had, he agrees with her that Spraggs wouldn’t have left his car behind.’ He leafed through the papers and extracted another. ‘I thought I’d better check as much as I could of his story before I brought this report in. The barman at the Queen’s Head has confirmed that the two men were there, and he says he heard enough of their conversation to confirm what Halliwell told me.’

Deepbriar put the documents down on the desk. ‘Add this to the abduction of Joe Spraggs, of Honeysuckle Cottage, Minecliff, just a few days before Joseph Spraggs went missing, and at the very least I think we are looking at a case of kidnapping. Joe was dumped back at the yard where he works the next day. His statement is there too. I’ve added my own notes on the evidence that a car, almost certainly the same one that knocked Bronc into the ditch on the evening of the 1st, was driven in and out of Wriggle’s yard shortly before Joe Spraggs was returned there. It was because I wanted to question Bronc further about this matter that I was trying to locate him. Something which, as you know, I was unable to do, until we found some of his clothes and an awful lot of blood.’

Jakes was silent for almost ten minutes as he read through the documents, his face growing increasingly sombre. At last he looked up at Deepbriar and sighed. ‘That’s a rare mess you’ve landed us all in, constable. It’s too hot for me to handle without authority, with Inspector Stubbs away I’ll have to talk to Inspector Martindale. We haven’t managed to locate one corpse and if you’re right we’re probably looking for two. How on earth are we going to explain that it’s taken us three weeks to investigate what could very well be murder?’

‘You believe Mrs Spraggs then? You think her husband was kidnapped?’

‘Put it this way. I don’t think he walked out on her.’ He tapped a finger on the woman’s statement. ‘People do sometimes go missing with only the clothes they stand up in, but you’re right, there’s something very wrong here.’

‘All right, Bert?’ Deepbriar asked, going sideways into the cell with a tray in his hands. ‘You’re lucky today, boiled beef and carrots, it’s one of the things the canteen does best, and for pudding I fancied you’re more of a plum duff man than fruit and custard. I put three spoons of sugar in the tea, hope that’s right.’

‘When do I get out of ’ere?’ Bunyard said, looking nervously past the constable into the empty corridor. ‘Are them cops from London still on their way? I thought they’d be ’ere by now.’

‘They must have got held up. Don’t worry, Sergeant Jakes will do his best to convince them you’re not part of the gang they’re after. Here, tuck in.’ Deepbriar handed him the tray and leant back against the wall as the man began his meal.

‘Reckon you had a good laugh, watching us chasing our tails when we were looking for Bronc,’ the constable said after a while.

‘An’ what if I did?’ Bert spoke round a mouthful of beef.

‘Oh, nothing. We don’t hold grudges. Only bear in mind that you’ll be up in front of the magistrate tomorrow. You’ll probably be let out on bail, so long as you go on co-operating. Talking of which, Bert, there’s a couple of questions we didn’t ask.’

‘I already told you what I done,’ Bunyard said, forking meat into his mouth and chewing vigorously. ‘If this is your idea of a good dinner then I dunno what the bad ones are like.’

‘Looks all right to me,’ Deepbriar replied. ‘Come on, Bert, you can help us.’ Even as he said the words he knew he’d made a mistake; Bunyard had never helped anyone but himself in his entire life. He hurried on, hoping the man wouldn’t have noticed the appeal to his non-existent better nature. ‘Nearly a month ago, a few days before you stole Quinn’s pig, somebody saw you going up the lane off the Gadwell road.’