Death on Bodmin Moor by Gunn Victor

Author:Gunn, Victor [Gunn, Victor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, British
Publisher: Linford Mystery
Published: 1960-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

9

‘That’s torn it!’ said Johnny Lister, with a whistle.

‘It opens up a new line of inquiry, at least,’ said Bill Cromwell, as unperturbed and immobile as the Sphinx itself. ‘So the address on Mr Parker Brean’s passport, and on his driving-licence, is a false address. That hints that the name ‘Parker Brean’ is equally false. I’ve thought, all along, that this gentleman was no ordinary American tourist.’

‘A fair knockout, sir,’ said Clapp, shaking his head. ‘What are we going to do now? If nothing’s known about the man, how are we going to get in touch with his relatives? What about burying the body?’

‘There’s one thing we must do immediately,’ replied Ironsides grimly. ‘We must radio a set of Brean’s fingerprints to the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Washington, and ask them to check.’

‘Good lord! You think the man was a crook?’ asked Johnny.

‘I don’t think anything of the sort, but it’s a possibility,’ said the chief inspector. ‘The F.B.I. will know. If they do have a record of him, and he is a crook, the case becomes much more interesting. It will mean that Parker Brean was, presumably, in Polryn for some unlawful purpose. If, on the other hand, the F.B.I. has no record, then we can be fairly certain that Brean was a reasonably honest man.’

Without any delay at all, the necessary machinery was set in motion. A specimen of the dead man’s fingerprints was obtained, but as there were no facilities in Polryn for having them transmitted by radio to Washington, other steps were taken. Cromwell saw to it that no time would be lost.

‘Well, that’s that,’ he said, at length. ‘We ought to know, one way or the other, by tomorrow.’

He and Johnny were in Clapp’s little office. The inspector himself had been sent off to Bodmin in connection with the fingerprint transmission — and also to inform his chief superintendent of the new development. No doubt Major Bassett would be informed, too.

‘There doesn’t seem to be much hope now, Old Iron, of contacting Brean’s relatives,’ said Johnny, as he lit a cigarette. ‘We were rather relying on that, weren’t we? If there’s no way of getting in touch with the man’s people, we can’t find out anything about him. Awkward.’

‘I’m thinking about those two letters from London, that Frewshaw spoke of,’ said Cromwell, frowning. ‘He was quite certain that the envelopes were addressed in a woman’s handwriting. He may have been wrong, but that’s not likely.’

‘Does it matter? We haven’t got the letters. They were either burnt by Brean, or taken from his pocket by the murderer.’

‘You don’t get the point, son. Parker Brean arrived here on Saturday — alone,’ said the chief inspector, as he strolled to the window, and gazed unseeingly upon the High Street as he filled his pipe. ‘He arrived by train, and he booked in at the Polryn Arms. Since then he has received two letters from London. What’s the inference?’

‘That he left somebody in London who knew he was coming here, and why he was coming here,’ replied Johnny promptly.

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