Death Goes By Bus

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 69, Issue 79, 13 January 1949, Page 7

Death Goes By Bus

Serial Story

(Copyright)

By Leslie Cargill

CHAPTER XXVII.

REMAND?

Matthews leaned forward. “Then why,” he asked significantly, “did she faint when the murder was discovered.”

“Good man,” Sharpe commended. “1 see you remember details of the witness’s statements.”

“Does it signify anything?” asked the superintendent.

“Who can tell! Any fact may be valueless or invaluable. By the way, how is my friend, the prisoner?” “John Smith? Taking it easy. Tlis solicitor intends asking for bail at tomorrow’s hearing. In case that doesn’t convey anything to your lay mind, I’ll tell you straight away that it is a most unusual request in a murder case.” Morrison Sharpe nodded. “So I believe. But I thought it couldn’t be done.” “The mere asking means that the case is so thin that the authorities are being taunted. Don’t say T told you so’ or we shall fall-out. Personally, I shouldn’t be staggered if the magistrates dismissed the case without troubling to send the prisoner for trial. Do you know what that means?” “Pretty serious for you, I . should imagine.” “Nothing could be worse. My career is at stake, so now you know. If I can’t justify the arrest my only hope is to substitute the really guilty party for the mistakenly accused.”

“Hah! You’re going pretty far, Superintendent.” “So I am, sir. When a man’s life is at stake you’ve got to be fair. Prosecution doesn’t mean persecution. Do you think I should have let you in on this if I thought Smith was guilty without the slightest doubt?” “Hadn’t thought of it in that light.” “Now you’ve been told. Make the most of it. Your friend, as you call him, looks like being a lucky man. Less than a week ago the rope seemed nearly round his neck. Now the more we try to tighten it the more something intervenes to make 'it looser.” “Suppose you’d have waited?” “Ah, sir, that would have made a difference. One thing I can tell you. Huntley Young isn’t out of sight of an officer a moment of the day or night.” “Sure you’re not substituting one error for another?”

Maxley screwed up his eyes until they were mere slits. “No, sir,” he retorted, “I’m not. But I can assure you that no move will be taken until I am quite convinced. Even if the case against Smith breaks down, there’ll be no precipitate action. This new line of inquiry seems promising. What do you think, Matthews?”, The sergeant looked up from his newspaper. “Sorry, sir, I missed your last remarks.”

“I said ‘this line of inquiry seems promising.’ ” “Y-yes—yes, indeed!”

“Sounds somewhat half-hearted. For goodness sake take your nose out of that paper and pay attention. What are you reading, anyway?” Matthews turned rather pink about the cheeks. “As a matter of fact,” he explained, “I’m trying my hand at a cross-word puzzle.” The Superintendent breathed heavily. “Y-you . . . ,” he spluttered, and paused for lack of simple words. Mr Sharpe laughed aloud. “Good man!” he remarked. “Do you the world of good. We’ll have Maxley at them before this case is concluded.

“Not if I know it,” snapped that individual. You and your puzzles are a positive menace.”

THE AMATEUR DETECTIVE

Morrison Sharpe did not miss the connection. On the contrary, lie was on the platform ten minutes before his train was due. That fact is of no particular importance, unless it serves to suggest that in face of necessity the man of aberration may evolve! into a man of determined aetiofr

Matthews make the journey, so p rob ably up erint,en den t Maxley was ..glad of the company. Certainly ■JjfiV-jt&lked, and to good effect, revealing his innermost thoughts about the case that was causing him so much concern. Maxley was rather like a medical ■practitioner who' has learned to respect some particular bone-setter. The unregistered man’s undoubted powers may not meet with ■ the approval of the regular surgeon, but in certain cases he will even go to the extent of recoriimending him to patients. Sometimes,' even, the “quack” will become iso famous that he cannot be disregarded as an important force in curative knowledge. Therefore the professional police officer was prepared to accept assistance from an amateur because he recognised in Morrison Sharpe a person of exceptional ability. There was something in the acute sense of perbeption peculiar to the little man that made him an object almost of awe. And yet, as Mr Sharpe would have modestly insisted, there was nothing mysterious about it. He had merely sharpened his wits through, years of pitting them against others almost as keen as his own.

‘lnterviewing Miss Edith Maude Hanson was not the easiest of 1 processes. She did not want to talk about the harrowing experience .and begged to be allowed to forget all about it. “Ever since that dreadful day I Jkgve been unable to sleep properly,” complained, and the drawn look on her face with dark shadows under the eyes bore out the haunting fear.

“Madam,” retqrted the adamant Maxley, “murder is an ugly affair which cannot lightly be forgotten. A life has been taken and another threatened.” “A-another?” she faltered. “By the law.” “Ah, yes, poor man. It is dreadful, Inspector.” “Superintendent, madam! ” “Pardon me, the slip was very careless. You were asking me about — about —”

“Anything that may throw light on the tragedy. Mention was made of the accused man, John Smith. Know anything about him?” “Will they h-hang him? No, they mustn’t! That would be more than I could bear.”

Morrison Sharpe was studying the woman coldly and calculatingly, while his companion questioned her. She seemed more formidable than ever, despite her evident concern for the presumed murderer. Why should she dislike so much the idea of Smith being punished? It could hardly be because she was a woman

of acute sensitivity. The hard lines of her mouth and jaw negatived that possibility. Plainly, the Superintendent was putting her emotion down to a feminine shrinking from contact with an unsavoury happening. His next remarks were delivered in

that attempted kindliness of tone peculiar to hard-bitten officers when they are called upon to fulfil an unpleasant duty. “Try not to distress yourself,” he advised. “The trial has yet to come and Smith may be found ‘not guilty.’ ” “Oh, I trust so! I do trust so!” “But,” went on Maxley sternly, “somebody committed the crime and deserves punishment. You can help.” “I can? Why, T don’t know what you mean!” “Yes you do. Miss Hanson. Please be frank. When the cause of death was discovered you fainted, I believe?” “With shock. It was a terrible revelation.”

“Are you given to fainting?” “No, that was the first time for years.” “Yet nobody else was so seriously affected, and you do not strike me as tlie kind of woman to give wav easily, if I may say so.” Miss Hanson made no reply. She was becoming increasingly uneasy. “Almost as if the dead man was as acquaintance,” came the gentle insinuation. “One feels for a friend what is lacking in a stranger.” “Caleb Wainwright was no friend of mine.” She was stung into denial. “But you did know him?” “Leave me alone. Must I be tortured like this?” “Justice must be served, Madam. Any evidence you can give bearing on this case ought to be freely given.” “Police prating.” Maxley winced. He did not relish this soi’t of treatment. “Look here,” he snapped. “You can’t talk like that." “Can’t I?” Her eyes sparkled angrily. This was a new Miss Hanson, and Morrison Sharpe glimpsed the reality behind A he hard mask. So she was accustomed to having her own way, and disliked dictation.

“Superintendent Maxley is trying to make it easy for you,” he intervened soothingly. Her lips curved scornfully. “He can please himself. Go away, both of you.” “That is impossible,” Maxley said. “If you insist on being awkward there are ways of compelling you to speak.” “I shall say nothing more. Do your worst.”

“You’re as bad as your friend Huntley Young.” She blanched at that. “M-my friend . . . ? Is this another trick?”

“The man who saw you off at Bellham station,” continued her tormentor. “The man who has been conducting an illicit love-affair. The man who tried to commit suicide when his guilty secret was unveiled. The man . . .” “Stop!” she shouted. “How much do you know?” “Everything. Mr Young refused to tell, but in the end —” Maxley broke off on a significant rising inflection. •To their consternation the woman sank into a chair and buried her head in her hands. Great sobs shook her gaunt frame —a pitiable exhibition. The Superintendent was about to speak when Mr Sharpe motioned him to desist. Solemnly they stood by until the spate of tears subsided. Suddenly she sat upright, still moist about the eyelashes but with a firm grip on herself. “That,” she announced grimly, “was the first thorough cry I’ve had since I was a child. It's done me good. Now you may resume your examination and perhaps you will find me more amenable.”

Maxley bobbed awkwardly. “That’s better. Take it easy.” “I don’t want your sympathetic encouragement. What you know you know —or think you do and I guess it is only a quarter of the truth. Caleb Wainwright was a friend of mine, you suggested. That swine. He wasn’t lit to live.”

“So you did know him?” “Yes, for years. More years than I care to count. Why I didn’t kill him long ago is'the biggest mystery.”

“But you shot him in the end?” £jhe hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, I shot him. Now take me away and release that unfflortunate man you’re keeping locked up without cause.” * * * * “This,”, exclaimed Superintendent Maxley irritably, “is a confounded nuisance.”

Morrison Sharpe expressed agreement. “What, have you done with the lady?” he added. “Sent her to the observation ward. Do you think she's quite all thereP” “Sane, do you mean? Oh, T should think so. What’s your opinion?”

“Goodness knows. If she’s certifiable that lets me out. After all we get lots of people with queer kinks who confess to murder without rhyme or reason. The Hanson woman acted as if she was off her rocker.”

“Wish fathering the thought. I noticed only a trace of hysteria augmented by excitement. After such a dramatic scene it was almost excusable.”

The discussion was taking place at Netherton Police Headquarters, where the two men w r ere considering the unexpected development which had occuri'ecl. After the confession Miss Hanson.'had repeated over and over again, “1 shot him,” and that was the sum total of all they could get out of her.

(To be Continued)