Sport for Inspector West by John Creasey

Author:John Creasey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: House of Stratus

Chapter Seventeen

Night Journeys

Everything pointed to the dead man being the newspaperman Clayton. And everything pointed to the missing Relf as Peel’s assailant, for one of the railwaymen in the siding said that he had seen Relf run away from the factory and get on a motorcycle. Relf’s address proved to be a rooming-house in the East End of London, and he wasn’t there when the police called. Roger arranged for the house to be watched and for Relf’s description to be circulated throughout the country. Then Akerman came for him – and with Akerman was Randall’s friend, Wilson.

“Second meeting,” Wilson said briefly. “I’m sorry about this – is it the same business?”

“It could be,” said Roger.

“We’ve just been talking about it,” said Akerman. “Mr Wilson has come to see the conditions in which our goods are wrapped and stored; it will give him a clearer idea of the requirements for our containers.”

“I mean to do a good job for Randall’s order,” said Wilson.

Roger nodded.

“But you mustn’t keep Mr Emanuel waiting,” said Akerman.

Roger wasn’t yet accustomed to the Perriman habit of calling their ‘family members’ by their Christian names, to distinguish one from another. There were Emanuel, Silas, and Matthew at Woodhall; Samuel and Joseph in London and a number of lesser Perrimans, the younger generation with more modern names. Mr Emanuel was the patriarch of the family which had established Perriman’s first retail shop fifty-one years ago. He received Roger in a small, cosy office. He had a mop of thick white hair which waved back from his forehead, a bushy moustache, red, healthy cheeks, and clear blue eyes.

He was distressed by what had happened. He wanted the police to understand that every facility would be granted to help them in their inquiries. The name of Perriman was an honoured one, almost a revered one, in commerce; such a scandal as this, such an unhappy event, would smear that good name. If in the event it proved that a member of the staff of Perriman’s was involved, then the police could be sure that it would shock everyone concerned.

A polite secretary led Roger out of the sanctum sanctorum.

By then an officer of the National Fire Service had arrived and was waiting near the dump for Roger. He said that there was a top layer of accumulated ash and debris which had been there, slowly increasing, for some weeks. In one part of the heap, however, there was evidence that this top layer had been removed and thrown to another place, and that a hole had been dug and filled with highly inflammable material. He suggested that the body had been put on top and the flames started. The blaze would be fairly brief – perhaps at its height for half an hour or so. The body would be badly burnt, enough to make it unrecognisable. Then it had been dismembered and dug in, and the top layer of ash and debris spread over it.

“What about the clothes?” asked Roger.

“He wasn’t wearing the coat or the trousers,” said the fire-expert.

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