The Lake District Murder (British Library Crime Classics) (21 page)

“And very interesting, too,” commented Thompson. “The question remains, could a tank be so tampered with that a short delivery would pass unnoticed?”

“Well, it
could
be done,” acknowledged Weymouth with a faint smile. “But the chances of the fraud not being detected are slight. For example, if small stones or quantities of lead shot were poured down the intake pipe, the petrol level would be automatically lifted. Where the original capacity of the tank was say, 500 gallons, it might be diminished by this trick to 400 gallons. The petrol company would therefore have to deliver a hundred gallons less to bring the tank up to capacity. But even so, I don’t see how the fraud could go undetected for long. As soon as the garage people began comparing their pump sales with their delivery costs, they’d be bound to notice the discrepancy. Quite frankly—I don’t think there’s a single way in which a garage could be successfully cheated by a petrol company.”

At the conclusion of Weymouth’s speech the police officers looked at each other despairingly. Then how, in the name of heaven, was the fraud being managed? If the bulk-wagon was in order on leaving the depot and the garage tanks had not been tampered with, how could 1,000 gallons of petrol be metamorphosed into 1,200 gallons? It was surely inconceivable that the lorry had stopped at some unknown spot and taken in that extra two hundred? What would be the point of it, anyway? The extra petrol would have to be paid for, so where would the profit come in?

Meredith had not felt so utterly depressed since the case had started. Try as he would, he could see no way out of the labyrinth. And on the top of the first puzzle Weymouth had set another. Why had the bulk-wagon made the Stanley Hall delivery on its homeward run?

Suddenly Meredith sat up! The homeward run! What about No. 4 on the night of the crime? That order which had to be delivered at the Derwent?

“Good heavens, sir!” he said, turning to Thompson. “I believe I’ve hit on something!”

“Out with it then!”

“Why did No. 4 leave the Derwent delivery till last on the Saturday night when Clayton was murdered? Doesn’t it strike you as significant, sir?”

“You mean that they deliberately made a late delivery so as to arrive at the garage after dark?”

“Precisely, sir.”

“But you’re not suggesting that the reason why they delivered late to-night at the Stanley Hall was because they intended to murder the proprietor?”

Meredith laughed.

“Hardly that, sir. The two cases aren’t the same. Remember the Derwent delivery was a genuine advanceorder. I’ve seen the record of it in Rose’s books. To-night’s was——”

“Well, what was it? You can’t answer that question, Meredith, so it’s no good trying. But I agree with you about the other point. It’s certainly an incriminating bit of evidence against Bettle and Prince.”

Weymouth looked bewildered.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite——”

“Sorry, Weymouth,” laughed the Superintendent. “Just shop. I forgot you weren’t in the know. Now we really must be getting on, my dear chap. We’ve taken up enough of your valuable time. Any other point, Inspector?”

“Just one, sir. Would it be possible for Mr. Weymouth to take a dip of No. 4 and certify that thousand gallon capacity?”

“Officially, you mean?”

“Not exactly. An official inspection would put the men on their guard. Particularly as it’s not usual to take a second dip after the tank has been certified correct. My idea was to get Dancy’s help. We could then slip into the yard after dark and have a look at the lorry. On the Q.T.”

“You give me a ring,” said Weymouth promptly. “I’ll be there, Inspector.”

“Good,” concluded Thompson. “Now it’s time we were off. Come on, Inspector!”

As the Superintendent was returning direct to Carlisle, Meredith had arranged to catch the 9.40 train back to Keswick. Thompson, therefore, directed the constable at the wheel to drive at a slow pace to the station. There were still some twenty minutes to go before the train was due, and he felt the time could be profitably spent in a discussion.

“What are you going to do now, Meredith?” was the Superintendent’s first remark, when they had dropped into the back seat of the car. “It’s your case, remember.”

“No need to rub it in, sir,” replied Meredith with a rueful laugh. “I don’t quite see what we
can
do. We might get a line on the dockyard manager and try to prove the fraud from that end. But I’m doubtful if we’d get results. I still think Rose is the brain of the gang. Of course,” he added, brightening a little, “we’ve got these garages under observation for another three days. There’s a chance something
may
turn up. But the outlook’s none too bright at the moment.”

“I’m not so sure,” countered the Superintendent in measured tones. “We know now that something irregular is going on and we didn’t know that for
certain
this morning. That spells progress, anyway. Then there’s that bit of incriminating evidence about No. 4’s late delivery on the night of the crime. Further, we’ve discovered a number of ways in which the fraud is
not
being carried on. Negative, I admit. But helpful.”

“Then there’s another point which struck me,” went on the Superintendent, after a moment’s silence. “Don’t you think, Inspector, that we might find out as much by watching one garage as by keeping the whole lot under observation? I don’t mean abandon our wholesale test at once. We’ll carry through with that according to plan. But take the Lothwaite, for example. We’re pretty certain now that it’s mixed up with the racket. When you questioned Wick that Friday morning, it was obvious that he was lying to you. Then there was that very suggestive conversation you overheard. Combine these facts with the suspicious circumstances surrounding Peterson’s suicide, and I think we’ve got good cause to keep the place under observation. What I suggest is this. Watch the place, according to plan, until the Tuesday test is over. After that keep the place under
constant
observation. Day and night. It might even pay us to shadow Wick if he leaves the garage. He must get away sometimes to shop and so on.”

“You mean work it in shifts, sir?”

“That’s it. You might split up the work between yourself, say, and a couple of constables. Try it for a few days, at any rate, then if you get no result we can discuss the matter again.”

“Very good,” said Meredith as the car slowed to a standstill. “This looks like the station now, sir. Meeting at the same time to-morrow night, I take it?”

The Superintendent nodded and after “good nights” had been exchanged, Meredith saluted and hurried off to catch his train, which had just drawn into the station. An hour and half later, tired out, chilled to the marrow and dispirited, he reached Greystoke Road. There, after a long-deferred meal and a short domestic, fireside chat with his wife, he switched off the wireless, locked the front door and wended his way to bed.

On reaching his office the next morning he found Dancy’s overnight report lying ready for him on his desk. The make-up of the lorry’s load was virtually the same as that of the day before. Advance orders again totalled 1,000 gallons. Three orders were for 200 gallons and one for 400. Two of the garages were in Workington, one in Maryport and one in a coastal village near Whitehaven.

Constable Brennen had also sent in his written report of the Stanley Hall incident. But although Meredith perused it with extreme thoroughness, he gained no more than he had done over the phone the previous evening.

In a dissatisfied mood he set off, therefore, to take up his position in the larch wood overlooking the Lothwaite. Hiding his motor-cycle behind the opportune tar-barrels, he was soon installed at his post, where he settled down for a long and dreary wait. Several cars and tradesmen’s vans passed along the road. A goods train chuffed laboriously up the valley. Later a motor-cyclist drew up at the Lothwaite pumps and Meredith saw Wick come out of the garage office and attend to his customer’s wants. Then followed a blank half-hour. For the time being all traffic on the road and rail seemed suspended. A thin rain began to fall, sweeping in misty pillars up the grey and silvered surface of the lake. Meredith, cursing under his breath, drew his muffler tighter round his neck and buttoned the collar of his trench-coat. How he loathed this waiting job! And some people imagined that the detection of crime was an exciting and glamorous pastime! Little they knew about it! Glamorous? Brrr!

Then suddenly he was jerked back to the realities of his job. From up the road he heard, unmistakably, the approach of a heavy lorry. Wick, too, seemed to have caught the sound, for he shot out of the garage and took a hasty look up the road. Then, to Meredith’s amazement, he made tracks for the door of the adjoining cottage and disappeared within. A minute later the Nonock lorry drew up at the pumps.

Prince climbed down from the cab, whilst Bettle switched off the engine. After a quick look up and down the road, Prince then began to couple up the feed-pipe. He removed the manhole lid which protected the countersunk pipe, unlocked the padlock and took off the metal cap. Returning to the lorry, he opened the long wooden box, which ran parallel to the base of the tank, and drew out the feed-pipe. With a second key he then unlocked a metal box, which overhung the lorry’s rear light and coupled the feed pipe, by means of a union, to the middle of the three valve pipes projecting from the tank. This done, he completed the job by connecting the other end of the feed-pipe to the garage tank.

Wick then reappeared in the doorway of the cottage and called out something, which, owing to the adverse direction of the wind, Meredith was unable to hear. Prince’s reply was a wave of the hand and an observation which sounded like “O.K.” He then crossed to the rear of the tank and opened the valve. Meredith looked at his watch. 10.44. He made a note of it.

Then for some minutes nothing happened. Prince lit a cigarette (“A dangerous policy,” thought Meredith), and lounged back against the door of the cab. Although he couldn’t see him, Meredith imagined that Bettle was still seated at the wheel. Wick, for some unearthly reason, had retired again into the cottage!

After a short period the proprietor emerged once more and made a quick signal with his hand. Prince must have been waiting for this signal, for he went forward, at once, and shut off the petrol valve. Again Meredith glanced at his watch. 10.53
¹
/
₂
. So far, so good, he thought. What now?

But if he was expecting any sensational action on the part of the men, he was destined to be deceived. Prince strolled over to the garage and disappeared with Wick, presumably into the office. Five minutes later they reappeared. Prince with a blue-covered book in his hand; Wick with a single sheet of paper.

The lorry-man then uncoupled the pipe, stowed it away, locked the metal box at the rear of the tank, replaced the cap and padlock on the intake pipe and dropped the manhole lid into place. The three men then held a desultory conversation (none of which Meredith could catch) at the conclusion of which Prince swung over the starting-handle and climbed up into the cab beside Bettle. Then with a grinding of gears the bulk-wagon slowly gathered way and lumbered out of sight round the corner. Wick returned, at once, to his office.

Knowing that No. 4 was booked for a round of the coastal towns, Meredith decided that he need keep no further watch on the Lothwaite until 4.30 that afternoon. He, therefore, executed a cautious retirement through the larch wood, mounted his motor-cycle out of sight round the corner, and made for Keswick.

On the journey he occupied himself with an analysis of the facts which had now come to light. He was highly delighted with the results of his observation, though as yet quite unable to set value on what he had learnt. First, he dealt with the time factor.

Prince had opened the valve at 10.44 and closed it at 10.53
¹
/
₂
. The delivery had therefore taken exactly 9
¹
/
₂
minutes to discharge. Meredith was puzzled. Calculating on a basis of 100 gallons flow in 3
¹
/
₂
minutes, it meant that No. 4 had discharged something in the region of 270 gallons into the Lothwaite tank. But why the odd amount? Ferriby had assured him that most petrol firms, including the Nonock, delivered a minimum of 200 gallons from the tank and that thereafter the amounts ascended in hundreds. But here was a delivery which obviously did not comply with the rule. What was the explanation? There could be only one. The delivery was outside rules and regulations—in brief, a
fraudulent
delivery.

Wick’s strange behaviour was his next consideration. Why had the man disappeared into the cottage at the sound of the lorry’s approach? And why had he reappeared some minutes later and signalled Prince to turn off the petrol valve? Did it mean that there was a second tank inside the cottage, connected by means of a secret pipe to the genuine intake pipe under the pump? That, at any rate, would offer a reason for Wick’s singular behaviour. There was probably some form of gauge fitted to this illegal tank and as Wick wanted to avoid an overflow, it was necessary for him to disappear and take a reading of the level. When capacity was nearly reached he naturally came to the door and signalled Prince to stop the flow. That would account, too, for the odd gallonage discharged. But if this
was
so—what was the idea? Why a second tank? Why should Wick throw himself open to risk of discovery when he had a perfectly genuine storage place under the registered Nonock pump. Weymouth was concerned solely with the pump itself. Once the tank had been certified correct and sealed, it was not examined further by the Inspector of Weights and Measures.

Still wrestling with this problem, Meredith drew up outside the Keswick police station. Railton was in the outer office.