Читать книгу The Fifth Identity - Ray CW Scott - Страница 6

“Any joy?”

Pelham and Ruddock approached each other from opposite directions in the street and met outside the door to their building. They entered the foyer and headed for the lifts.

“Stalemate for the present,” said Ruddock and explained the circumstances of the previous day. He paused as they entered the lift, there were other tenants in it who had come up from the basement car park, they waited until these had exited and then recommenced the conversation as they entered the Fell, Pelham & Drysdale reception area.

Pelham paused outside his office.

“An intruder, you say?”

“It looked that way,” said Ruddock. “Some kitchen chairs were parked in the hallway near the back end, and Richard reckoned some desk ornaments had vanished. There were towels in the hallway too, all neatly stacked in a pile.”

“Ready for later collection, eh?” Pelham entered his office, Ruddock followed him in.

“It looked very much like that.”

“And you say the police are involved?”

“Yes, a Detective Sergeant named Eddington.”

“I’ll give him a call this morning,” said Pelham. “But for my money, this sounds like an inside job. From the items that have gone or been piled up, it sounds like that bloody Salmon woman.”

“But we relieved her of her key, didn’t we?”

“So bloody what!” snorted Pelham. “She had that key for so damned long she could have run off a hundred duplicates of it. It looks as though we may have to change all the locks to be on the safe side.”

“Hell!!” said Ruddock. “There were some company files littering the sofa as well in Accrington’s study.”

“They were probably searching for valuables,” Pelham said as he cocked his head to one side to read a phone message on his desk. “The company files wouldn’t have interested Mrs Salmon - assuming she can read anything other than pound signs! And they would have been wasting their time looking for valuables, John had no time for personal ornamentation, he had a gold wrist watch and that was about it.”

He pulled his chair out from the desk and eased himself into it.

“Give me that Detective Sergeant’s card and I’ll call him. I’ll let you know what transpires.” he said. “Any signs of documents cases, deed boxes - did the safe look as if it had been tampered with?”

“No, nothing like that, though it looks as if a television set has walked.”

“Hmmm!” Pelham inclined his head to one side. “I know he certainly had a couple of deed boxes, I saw them myself in his study once when we were sorting out the share transfer to the Bilston brothers. One of them was a fixture there by the side of his filing cabinet, but there was another one as well - don’t know where he normally kept that.”

“No, we didn’t see any deed boxes, unless they’re in the safe.”

“Alright, no doubt we’ll find out eventually.”

Detective Sergeant Eddington was not available immediately, he rang Pelham back just before midday. Pelham quickly explained who he was, but Eddington was ahead of him.

“Yes, I guessed who you were, I have Norman Ruddock’s card here. I presume you want to know what’s happening with regard to the Accrington house.”

“Yes, we are most concerned, we are managing the property for the present as we administer Mr Accrington’s Estate, we need to ascertain whether there are any papers there relating to his affairs. Have you made any progress?”

“It looks as if we’ve narrowed down a suspect,” explained Eddington. “We are pursuing that and we can probably give you definite information soon.”

“It’s that bloody woman, isn’t it?” snapped Pelham.

“Woman? What woman…?” Eddington was momentarily perplexed and off balance, then he gave a dry chuckle. “Ah! I’m with you. I won’t confirm nor deny what you say at this stage, but let’s say we think we may have landed a fish.”

“Aha!” Pelham grunted. “Alright, say no more. I appreciate you can’t say any more right now. You’ll keep us informed?”

“I shall, I have Mr Ruddock’s card - do you have a direct line?”

Pelham reeled it off and Eddington wrote it down on the back of Ruddock’s card.

“We’ll keep you in the picture.” said Eddington.

Detective Sergeant Eddington climbed out of his vehicle and advanced towards the rear of the house. He made his way to a large shed that was situated at the edge of the large back garden. He knew it was occupied because he could see a wisp of smoke coming from a bonfire near to it; there was a bicycle propped up against the wall.

As he approached the shed a man came out carrying a large flower pot in his hands, he spotted Eddington immediately, put the pot down, and advanced towards him, wiping his hands upon his trousers.

“Mornin’ Roger,” he called out and extended his hand, which Eddington shook warmly.

“Good morning, Walter,” Eddington replied. “Keeping busy, I see.”

“Guess so, I thought I’d keep the garden up to scratch, I owed that much to John.” responded Walter Rushden. “I like to keep busy, but I don’t know for how long now though, unless the new owner decides he wants a gardener.”

“Can’t answer that one,” said Eddington. “But I need some information from you, Walter, we’re making some enquiries.”

“Enquiries? What about?”

“Some things have been disappearing from the house.”

“What?”

Eddington repeated it, and Rushden looked apprehensive.

“Disappearing?” he said. “You mean burglary?”

“More or less,” answered Eddington. “But it looks like entry, non-forcible entry. It looks like petty theft, which indicates a local or inside job.”

“An inside … ! Look here Roger, if you think I’ve been going in and nickin’…! ”

“No, no no!” Eddington shook his head and raised his hands in a placatory fashion, though the thought had been in his mind, inasmuch as in his job one had to suspect everyone. Nevertheless, he had known Walter Rushden for many years and thought it highly unlikely.

“What’s been taken?”

“Don’t know for sure yet, but a few ornaments vanished from John’s old study, and it looked as if other items like chairs and linen, towels and the like had been readied for a later pick up.”

Rushden cast a glance at the house that was to his left, and grimaced. Then he looked at Eddington and his eyes narrowed.

“Are you askin’ me for an opinion?”

“No need to, Walt, I think we’re both thinking the same thing,” grunted Eddington. “Have you seen our friend around recently?”

“She was here a few days ago, when I arrived Tim Salmon’s old jalopy was parked in the driveway by the front door,” Rushden said thoughtfully. “They were both inside, the front door was open.”

“Did they see you?”

“Couldn’t miss me, I had the van with me that day because I had some fuel for the mower. As I passed in front of the house, following the driveway around the back, Tim came out so I jammed on the brakes to have a word. Now I think about it, he looked a bit shifty and didn’t seem too pleased to see me.”

“Then what?”

“We chatted, Tim wasn’t too keen to talk, but I was. I felt summat wasn’t right, especially as bloody Edna was hovering in the porch by the front door.”

“Bloody Edna…?” Eddington grinned. He didn’t need to be an expert detective to judge Rushden’s feelings regarding Mrs Salmon. “What happened after that?”

“I finished talking to Tim and I went around the back. I filled up the mower, did the back lawn which needed it, and then went home. When I drove out they’d gone.”

“This was when?”

“About …er…!” Rushden fingered his chin. “Reckon it was last Wednesday, late in the afternoon.”

Eddington consulted his clip board, and raised his eyebrows. According to a note he had written on it during the recent conversation with Ruddock, Mr Pelham’s firm had sent a messenger down to the village to collect the front door key, in fact any keys, from Mrs Salmon about a week prior to that.

“Whassup?”

“You say the front door was open?”

“Sure was, Tim was inside the hall and came out when I drove up, and she came out while I was talking to Tim. She was carrying some linen - she dropped it smartish like when she saw I was there, and made out she was dusting down the front door.”

“Hmmm!” Eddington made a note and put his clip board under his arm. “Thanks for your help, Walt, I’ll probably want to see you again.”

“You’re welcome,” said Rushden as he picked up the flower pots once more. “I’d like to know who’s been thieving because John deserved better than that after all the good he did for this village.”

Eddington walked back up the garden path to the house, and then swung around as a thought struck him.

“Walter!” he called out, and Rushden poked his head out from the shed. “What does Tim Salmon do for a living?”

“Bit of everything, local handyman I reckon.”

“Yes, but exactly what? Can you be more specific.”

“He does a bit of building, plumbing and painting. He recently laid a tiled floor for that Mrs Hetherington in the old manor house, did a fair job so I’ve heard.”

“Anything else?”

“Oh, plastering, bit of a locksmith as well.”

“Is he by God!” Eddington inclined his head thoughtfully. “OK, thanks Walter.”

Eddington decided to play it cool. He drove over to the Salmons’ house for which he had obtained the address from Fred Barratt, mine host at the Cromwell Arms, as Mrs Salmon also did some cleaning at the hotel. As he had said to Ruddock, he knew Tim Salmon slightly, he had seen him around the village occasionally when he, Eddington, had cause to make any enquiries around the area, which usually related to sheep worrying, the occasional burglary or investigating the scene of a motor accident. The last time he had been in the vicinity was when the cricket pavilion had suffered a series of break-ins, but from the cigarette ends, condoms and empty drink cans lying around it looked as if it had been children or teenagers using the building for illicit purposes.

Accordingly, he drove slowly up the road and paused outside the house, and cast his eyes over the frontage. The house stood back from the road, with a fair sized front garden which was well tended. He parked and alighted, paused to admire the rose garden just the other side of the hedge, then advanced to the gate. A dog tethered near the house started barking, and a woman wearing an apron came around the side of the house.

She was a stern looking woman, aged about 50, overweight and in a dress that looked as if it had seen better days. Her hair was swept back into a bun at the back of her head. Eddington pursed his lips as she advanced towards the garden path that led to the gate, her bust thrust out aggressively like the front end of a battleship, as was her bottom lip. Eddington ruminated that he was glad he wasn’t married to her.

“Can I help you?” she asked, in a somewhat belligerent manner. Her eyes held his, she folded her arms and he noted the manner in which her mouth turned down at the corners.

“Yes, I was looking for Tim,” he replied, returning her gaze with an effort. Eddington had confronted many hardened criminals in his time, but this grim looking woman was in a league of her own. Nevertheless, he was damned if he was going to lower his eyes.

“Who wants him?” there was a discernible hardening of the tone.

“Roger Eddington,” said Eddington, aware that the name might mean nothing to her, though it should certainly mean something to Tim Salmon. Their paths had crossed once or twice in the Cromwell Arms and also the cricket ground. He refrained from stating what he was, he didn’t want Mrs Salmon’s alarm bells to start ringing - yet!

“He’s in his workshop.”

“Oh yes, where’s that?”

“It’s down the street, round to the left, next door to the doctor’s surgery.”

“I’ll find it.”

“What’s it about?”

“Oh just wanted to talk about old times, mainly to do with cricket,” said Eddington. He turned on his heel and climbed back into his vehicle before she could ask any further questions. As he started the engine and eased away he noticed that she had come out through the gate with a view to continuing the interrogation, but he gave her a cheery wave and a broad smile, receiving a stony glare in return, and slowly drove away from her. He turned left at the next corner and looked for the doctor’s surgery; he spotted it straight away and saw the old brick and timber building standing next to it. There was a battered facia over the front double doors, which were open, there was some faded lettering which read “Salmon Engineering”.

He parked with two wheels on the grass verge and ambled over to the workshop. He entered it and stood uncertainly, then spotted a man at the far end working with a welder. He was concentrating upon what he was doing so Eddington decided to wait and the other eventually looked up, gave a hand signal in acknowledgment of his presence and switched off the welding torch. He came slowly over to Eddington, removing his face mask. Eddington recognised Tim Salmon.

“Hallo, Roger, you want me?”

Tim Salmon was a grey haired man in his 50′s, about 5′9″ in height, with about three day’s growth of grey beard on his features. He had a large nose, and bushy eyebrows. There was a trace of unease about him as he observed Eddington, his eyes dropped to Eddington’s clip board. They didn’t know each other too well, being limited to occasional meetings in the village, in the pub or in the cricket pavilion, but sufficiently to be on first name terms as Eddington had played a few games for the local cricket side. Salmon also knew Eddington was police and to him the clipboard indicated an official visit.

“Yes, how are you keeping, Tim?”

“Alright. Whassup?”

“I need some help with some enquiries we’re making.” replied Eddington.

“Enquiries? What about?” Salmon did not appear to be too ecstatic.

“We’ve been called to John Accrington’s old house,” explained Eddington. “Have you been up there recently?”

“No, not for a few weeks now.”

“Oh,” Eddington looked down at his clipboard and pursed his lips. “I was told that you and your wife had been there a few days ago, and that you were in the house.”

“My wife is the cleaner there.”

“She was, so I’ve been told,” said Eddington. “But she isn’t now, is she? How did you manage to get in.”

“My wife…er…has her own key.”

“If she has, she shouldn’t have, the lawyers sent down and relieved her of that key about two weeks ago. How did you get in?”

There was a silence and Salmon’s eyes began to move from side to side. Eddington sighed to himself, he knew the signs, years of experience had taught him to recognise when a man was lying.

“You have a key, haven’t you, Tim?” he threw in the first name again to try and get closer to the man. Eddington wasn’t after an arrest and a charge sheet, he merely wanted the key and to regain any stolen property. Then as far as he was concerned the matter would be over. He liked spending time in the village occasionally, especially during the cricket season, and he didn’t particularly want to put anybody local in court or in jail, especially anyone connected with the cricket club, though as far as Edna Salmon was concerned the latter idea did have its attractions.

The silence persisted and Eddington probed a little further, still trying to alleviate the situation.

“You probably had two keys didn’t you, Tim,” he said, offering a lifeline. “All we need is the second key you’re holding. You shouldn’t have it really, should you? Maybe you forgot you had a second one when the lawyers sent down for them.”

“Yes … yes…!” muttered Tim Salmon. “Yes, we had a key each.”

“Bloody liar!” Eddington thought, but all he wanted was that key, the one that Tim Salmon had clearly cut for himself before Matthew Pelham had sent for the original.

“You’ve probably been keeping some stuff in your cottage for safe keeping, haven’t you, Tim. With empty houses there’s always the risk of theft isn’t there? The lawyers have carried out an inventory, they know what’s miss…er…been removed for safe keeping. They’ve secured the house now safe and sound, so it can go back now. It’s all safe and sound. Alright?”

It plainly wasn’t alright, but Eddington could almost read the thoughts going around in Salmon’s head. Better get rid of the stuff and return it now, better that than the humiliation of being branded a thief in the village, and the possibility of a heavy fine or jail.

“Yes, I can see that,” Salmon mumbled, and looked uneasily around the workshop as though expecting his wife to materialise.

“So what have you got?” asked Eddington, taking his ball point pen from his pocket and adjusting the clipboard so he could write on it. “Can you remember them all or should we go to your house?”

“Well, er…there are only a few items. We didn’t want them to get damaged.”

“Like the ornaments from the desk, maybe, I can understand that. They were possibly valuable and could lose value if they were damaged by vandals,” said Eddington in a placatory fashion. He deliberately referred to some items specifically - he remembered what had been mentioned by Richard Bilston - to persuade Salmon that he was aware of what had been removed. He moved his pen down the page as though checking items, he hoped Salmon wouldn’t move his position and see that the printed page was bare of any itemised written entries. “Shall we go and pick them up, then?”

“What? Now? Do we have to do that now?”

“Might be for the best if we did, Tim,” said Eddington. “The lawyers are sending down somebody to check everything over again this afternoon, we don’t want them to start asking questions and making two and two make five. You and I know what the situation is, but they might twist it, and try to make something of it. You know what these city lawyers are like. They’ll love it if they can milk the estate for court costs.”

The mention of court and costs appeared to strike home.

“Yes, alright, just let me lock up.”

“Good, OK, that’s settled then.” Eddington made his way to the door, and hastily made a few notes on his clipboard. He remembered other items that had forcibly struck Richard Bilston as being missing and jotted them down hastily in case he forgot them. It would also be useful to have some items on his clipboard in case Salmon caught sight of it.

They drove back to the house in Eddington’s car, and he parked outside the front gate. Edna Salmon promptly materialised at the front door and moved into the porch, it was as though she had an automatic radar system that warned her of anyone approaching the house or passing anywhere near it.

Tim Salmon went into the house followed by Eddington, Tim and his wife were briefly closeted in the kitchen while Eddington was directed into the lounge-room. It was a pleasant room, the woodwork was painted white and the furnishings, though plain, were spotless as was the room itself. He cast his eye around and recognised several items from Richard Bilston’s description. The buzz of conversation in the kitchen ceased and he heard the sound of footsteps; the Salmons entered the room. Clearly there had been a committee meeting.

“Good morning, Mrs Salmon, we meet again,” he said warmly, ignoring the icicles that were heading in his direction and resisting the temptation to duck. “We’re most grateful that you voluntarily took care of these items, with all the vandalism, burglaries and …hmm… petty theft these days you never know do you?”

Her jaw jutted out and she gave a loud sniff, it was clear she had noticed his momentary pause before the final definition. She then folded her arms as she took a step towards Eddington. A lesser man may have run from the house screaming with terror at that, but Eddington was made of sterner stuff and eyed her levelly.

“I only took what…!” she began but Tim Salmon hurriedly intervened before she incriminated herself with any justifications for her actions.

“There’ve been a few break-ins around the village and we thought we’d take care of these items,” Tim said hastily, moving in between his wife and Eddington. “You say you have a list?”

“Yes, there is an inventory,” Eddington deliberately phrased it so that he wasn’t claiming he had it ready to hand, he also used the word ‘inventory’ to make it sound more legalistic. “The solicitors have been over the place with a fine toothcomb, and they’ve also been in touch with Mr Accrington’s insurance brokers. There were several items that were separately mentioned on his household insurance policy and upon his valuables policy, with specific values placed against them. The lawyers naturally want to know whether all of these items are still within the four walls, as do the insurers. They are very anxious with the property now being unoccupied, as the Unoccupancy Clause can apply after 60 days.”

“Unoccupancy clause?” asked Tim and the Salmons looked at each other.

“Yes, burglary cover will lapse after 60 days of unoccupancy. Insurers won’t pay out after that period, not for burglary, as you probably know, Mrs Salmon. That’s why everything has to be checked, and likely removed for safe keeping. They’ll probably be sending a team of investigators down.”

They weren’t, so far as he knew, not at this stage anyway, but the Salmons were not to know that. He paused and she sniffed again.

“Some of them are the property of John Accrington’s company, of course,” he added pointedly. “Some items of office equipment in particular and a few of the ornaments as well.”

That was something he wasn’t sure about offhand, but then, they wouldn’t know about that either. He eyed them as he said it and was relieved to see that there was some uncertainty between them. Whether there were any items specifically mentioned on Accrington’s contents insurance policy Eddington had no knowledge right now, but he considered it quite probable. But it was a useful salvo to fire in the Salmons’ direction and Eddington had no doubt he had scored a hit.

He moved over to the sideboard to have a closer look at the ornaments, and cast his eye over them. Having seen John Accrington’s study, the items certainly looked as if they would have been more at home there than where they were now, especially a small statuette that looked as if it could have some value, that fellow Bilston had mentioned something about a small statuette.

As he turned away he could see through the doorway into the next room and espied a wooden chest standing against the far wall. It was sandwiched between a china cabinet and a sideboard, and he could see small indentations on the carpet which indicated that the two items of furniture on each side had been moved apart to accommodate the wooden chest. He made a show of panning down the imaginary list in front of him and appeared to pause.

“There’s a wooden chest that used to be in his study, which had some ornate carvings on the front,” he pointedly turned his back on the open doorway so as not to give away the fact that he had just observed it. “Is that here too for safekeeping?”

There was a silence, during which they cast glances in each others direction but refrained from eye contact, being acutely aware that Eddington was looking in their direction.

“Well I …er…I…!” began Tim Salmon but Mrs Salmon began shaking her head. Accordingly Eddington took the bull by the horns. He turned around now so that he was squarely confronting the chest against the wall in the other room.

“Antique chest, dark brown in colour, ornate carvings on the front and inlaid on the top,” he read from his imaginary list. “Ah! Here we are, that looks like it down there. That’s it, isn’t it?” and so saying he walked through the doorway, over to the chest, stooped down and examined it closely. He fancied he could feel a burning sensation on the back of his neck as he was sure that Mrs Salmon was looking daggers at him. Mrs Salmon began to splutter something about it being a gift so he carried on as before, diverting her explanation with a question. “Does it open, or is it locked?”

“It’s locked,” said Tim Salmon, and was promptly withered by a glare from his wife.

“Oh that’s alright, I think we have the key for it, but I agree with you, this is something that would certainly attract thieves and a wooden chest always suggests valuables, doesn’t it? The chest itself looks as if it could have some value. I’m sure it must have, apparently when it was insured the insurers asked for a photograph of it.”

“The insurers? A photograph?”

“Oh yes, standard procedure these days,” replied Eddington. “John Accrington’s fellow directors were asking about that chest because there are company papers in it.” Eddington turned to Tim Salmon. “Do you have a cardboard box we can put the other stuff in Tim, I can take it back to the house now, Mr Accrington’s company will want that. The lawyers will be calling later to pick up some of the other items for the next of kin.”

He flung that last one in as a make weight. He had no idea whether relatives were involved or not, but as ‘next of kin’ always indicated people who could recognise particular items, this could further unsettle the redoubtable Edna Salmon.

“The locks are being changed today, and the alarm system is being re-configured to deter thieving. But we’d best have that key from you, the lawyers will want it accounted for - you know what they are - everything has been counted.”

He had placed a slight emphasis upon the word ‘thieving’ and hoped he hadn’t overdone it. Whether they noticed it or not, Tim Salmon went out to find a box while Mrs Salmon stayed and glowered at him.

“We found it in an outhouse,” she said grimly.

“I certainly commend you for your public spirited action, Mrs Salmon,” he said and managed to sound sincere. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of stuff that disappears these days. The solicitors will be very grateful, they were quite worried at one stage when they checked their inventory and found so many items weren’t there, and the company was particularly worried about that chest. But I assured them there was a perfectly simple explanation.”

He didn’t need to quieten his conscience or look hesitant when he said that, it was the literal truth!

As he drove back to the police station Eddington could still feel the barbs directed by Mrs Salmon, as if they were hitting the back of his neck. Tim Salmon had grudgingly supplied him with a cardboard box, which was now filled with various ornaments, many of which had once adorned John Accrington’s old study, and were now in the boot. Whether he had collected every item that the woman had appropriated from the premises he couldn’t be sure, more than likely she still had some items salted away. If she had appropriated items such as pillow cases, sheets, blankets or table cloths, Eddington couldn’t care less, they may just as well finish up in her cupboards or beds as being pulped by local rag merchants.

But it was the wooden chest that intrigued him, he had prevailed upon Tim Salmon to assist him in pushing and lifting it onto the rear seat of his car, he had to back the car right up to the house. It was a hard task for the two of them and was quite heavy. Mrs Salmon suggested Eddington leave it until he could return with more manpower, but he dared not leave it there now that he had claimed it. If there was anything of value in it, and he was thinking more of possible company papers than valuables, it was vital they did not disappear or be destroyed. He would have to turn that over to Norman Ruddock unopened, though he was very tempted to have it opened and have a look himself.

Accrington, to Eddington, had been man of mystery whilst living, and even more so now that he was dead. When a man of his stature died, relatives would usually descend upon the property like vultures even before the will was read to stake their claims for the vast fortune that lay to be claimed or to appropriate any knick knacks they wanted before anyone else could lay their hands on them. But, to date, there had been nobody, and Ruddock had confirmed this in a brief aside the last time they had met. This meant that personal papers could be anywhere, and a wooden chest that locked was a good candidate. If the Salmons got hold of them, there was no saying what could happen to them.

He arrived back at the police station and acknowledged the sergeant at the reception area as he walked in.

“Can you get two of the lads to remove a wooden chest from the back of my car, Ivan,” he said.

“What’s in it?” asked the desk sergeant. “The Crown Jewels?”

“You may not be far wrong,” grinned Eddington. “Maybe important papers if nothing else, we’ll see when we get it open.”

He entered the main office carrying the cardboard box, walked over to his desk and laid all the articles on it. He looked at various items, turned some of them around, lifted them up and peered underneath them. Then with a shake of his head, he deposited them back on the desk top. Then he sighed, and picked up the telephone on his desk, fished out Norman Ruddock’s card from his card box, and began dialling.

“A wooden chest, you say?”

“Yes, I’m informed that it was discovered in an outhouse, and that it was a gift…two bloody lies for the price of one!” Eddington added as an aside with a dry chuckle. “But there was no key for it. I have little doubt it would have been opened eventually by Tim Salmon with his expertise as a locksmith, but I’d say so far he hadn’t gotten around to it - at least I hope he hasn’t.”

“What are you intending to do about the Salmons?”

“Not much, I think I’ve done all that needs to be done,” replied Eddington. “I see little purpose in wasting police time and that of the courts in hitting them for larceny, we’ve got most of it back and as far as I’m concerned the theft aspect has been solved. Mrs Salmon probably thought she had a right to nick stuff, having been there for years. I’d say she’s raided the larder for foodstuffs, but I’ve no problem with that. If it had stayed in the Accrington house it would have gone off by now and would have to be chucked out anyway.”

“We noticed the larder was virtually empty when we were there,” said Ruddock.

“She’s welcome to it,” grunted Eddington. “As far as linen and towelling is concerned it’s probably better that she has it and puts it to good use sooner than a rag merchant reducing it all to pulp.”

“Yes I agree with that,” agreed Ruddock. “I certainly have no wish to waste our time suing them in our capacity as administrators, as you say we’d merely expend a lot of time and money for nothing, while the indignity could well kill them both.”

“Where Mrs Salmon is concerned that aspect certainly has its attractions,” commented Eddington. “Nevertheless, in a small village situation where gossip rules the roost, I tend to agree, their credibility will be gone forever. No! Sleeping dogs can lie now as far as I’m concerned.”

“What about this wooden chest? How big is it?”

“I measured it as soon as I unloaded it in the nick. It measures 3′ 6″ long, 21″ high and 19″ from front to back. There’s something in it alright, I was aware of movement inside it when we were loading it into my car, nearly broke my back!” said Eddington. “Maybe I’ll ask Tim Salmon to open it - under supervision of course!”

“A somewhat unorthodox procedure, but why not?” Ruddock replied. “It will give him an opportunity to save face too if we ask him to do us a favour.”

“He’ll probably charge us a fee.” suggested Eddington. “I’ve no doubt his wife would insist on that.”

“That doesn’t bother us, if we can’t find a key for it then we’ll have to pay someone to do it anyway,” said Ruddock. “I’ll ask Richard Bilston to have a look around Accrington’s old office and see if he can find any keys. I don’t hold out much hope though, we’ve had a good look there already.”

“OK. I’ll bear that in mind. When are you coming down again?”

“I thought next Monday,” said Ruddock. “The sooner we have a look in that chest the better.”

The following Monday morning Ruddock parked his car in front of the police station, and entered the building. Eddington was waiting for him. After exchanging greetings Ruddock shook his head.

“We’ve searched through all Accrington’s desk at his office, no key.”

Eddington nodded thoughtfully.

“Tim Salmon it is then - what are we prepared to offer?”

“I think £100 would be the absolute maximum?” said Ruddock. “I’d say start at £50, they’re lucky we’re not taking action against them.”

“Guess £50 may be enough for him, as long as we keep Edna out of the equation.”

“I’d suggest we go straight to his workshop then,” suggested Ruddock. “Should you ring him and tell him we’re on our way?”

“Hell no!” Eddington shook his head. “If we do that he’ll tell her and we’ll have her standing at the door with her bloody hand held out. No, we’ll just roll up.”

They did just that, Eddington commandeered a divisional van and a constable to drive it, they placed the chest in the back with its front and lock facing the two doors. Then they drew up outside Tim Salmon’s workshop. Salmon saw the vehicle arrive and walked up to the roller door, his face fell when he saw who they were.

“Oh, you again,” he said. “We haven’t got any more …!”

“I know that, I trust you, Tim,” responded Eddington, with a conviction he did not entirely feel. “We just need you to do a little job for us.”

“What’s that?”

“Come round the back of the van,” said Eddington.

The constable driver had already opened up the back and the wooden chest sat there just inside.

“We need the chest to be opened, Tim, ” said Eddington. “Maybe you can do it for us, for a consideration.”

Tim Salmon pursed his lips and fingered the lock.

“I can do it tomorrow,” he said. “Can you leave it here and come back in the morning?”

Ruddock shook his head.

“Sorry, we can’t do that,” he said. “The job has to be done under police supervision, and witnessed by us as administrators of the estate.” He was damned if he was going to leave it overnight. There was no knowing what could be appropriated or destroyed by Edna Salmon if they did that.

“It could be a long job,” insisted Salmon. “Can’t you leave it?”

Eddington signalled to the constable who made to shut the rear doors of the van.

“Sorry, thought we’d give you first refusal,” he said. “If you can’t do it straightaway, we’ll try Billy Thomas over in Aston. I’m sorry to have troubled, you Tim.”

“No, I didn’t say I couldn’t do it,” protested Salmon. “How much did you say?”

Eddington opened his mouth to answer but Ruddock was ahead of him.

“£20,” he said.

“Alright, I’ll just get my tool-kit,” grumbled Salmon.

“Thought you said £50 minimum,” said Eddington as they finally drove away.

“I did,” snorted Ruddock. “Until he started trying to keep it overnight, the bastard wanted to get at what was inside it without any interruptions.”

“So he lost £30 doing that.”

“Probably more, I was considering upping the ante to £75, then he lost me.”

“Will you be going through it now?”

“No, Mr Pelham wants to be present,” said Ruddock as they drew into the yard of the police building. “I’ll take it back to the city with me.”

“Be ironic if all we find is dirty washing,” grinned Eddington.

“Somehow I think not,” Ruddock gave a smile. “There’s certainly something moving around in there.”

“Maybe rolls of banknotes,” commented Eddington. “What do you reckon?”

“If Tim Salmon thought it sounded like that he’d have got an axe to it!” Ruddock responded and Eddington gave a snort of amusement.