Read Online 1954 - Safer Dead by James Hadley Chase - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Hadley Chase
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plants, the barrel with the necessary holes in it, and the soil. It’s been a pretty fast selling line: saves space and keeps the slugs off the fruit.’
‘Sounds fine,’ Creed said a little impatiently. ‘But Flemming didn’t want strawberry plants, did he?’
‘No, he didn’t. He just wanted the barrel. We got into an argument. I told him I didn’t sell the barrel without the plants or the soil. I make my profit on the plants and soil. The barrel I put in at cost.’
The three of us were listening now with interest.
‘What happened then?’ Creed asked.
‘We argued back and forth. He said he had strawberry plants. I didn’t believe him. A guy like him wouldn’t even have a garden. I can tell a gardener a mile off. Well, in the end, he agreed to pay me for the whole outfit and just take the barrel. He collected it in a truck the next day.’
‘Do you remember the exact date, Mr. Sperry?’
‘Yes. I looked it up before I came here. It was August 17th.’
Creed looked over at me: the date Fay Benson disappeared.
‘You didn’t get the number of the truck?’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t. Was it important?’
‘Maybe not. What kind of truck was it?’
‘A green, open truck; a one tonner. I didn’t notice much about it.’
Creed looked at Scaife.
‘Take Mr. Sperry to the morgue. Let him see Flemming, I want to be sure he identifies him.’ He got up and shook hands with Sperry. ‘Thanks for coming. If every citizen acted the way you’ve done, my work would be a lot easier.’
When Scaife had led Sperry, beaming and perspiring, from the office, I said, ‘A barrel - that doesn’t look too good for Fay Benson, does it?’
‘That was what I was thinking,’ Creed said, his eyes thoughtful. ‘I wonder if anyone in town sold him cement.’ He picked up the telephone and gave instructions for all cement sellers in the district to be checked. When he hung up, he went on to me, ‘That’s probably why we never turned up her body. She’s somewhere in a cement overcoat.’
I got up and went over to the wall map.
‘Is there any local water around where he could have dumped her?’
Creed joined me. He tapped the map.
‘Here; that’s Lake Baldock. There’s about sixty foot of water in the middle. It’s a favourite spot for picnic parties, and it’s only two miles from here.’
‘Anywhere else?’
‘Only the reservoir, and he wouldn’t try there because they are continually dragging it. Besides, there’s a high fence all around it. If she’s anywhere in water, she’ll be in Lake Baldock.’
‘Do we go and look?’
Creed scratched his head as he stared at the map.
‘I guess so. One of my men has a frogman’s outfit. He can take a look, and if he sees anything we’ll have to rig up some kind of hoist. That barrel’s going to be heavy.’
‘I’ll stick around, captain, until he’s had a look,’ I said. ‘No point in leaving town with this coming up. It’ll make headlines if we find her. When will you do it?’
‘Not before tomorrow. It’s too late in the day now. We don’t want a crowd watching us. I’ll start at six o’clock tomorrow.’
It meant my getting up at five o’clock and my instincts recoiled at the thought, but I could see it wouldn’t be wise to argue about it.
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘I’ll be there at six.’
II
T he sun was climbing above the belt of trees as I drove up to the two cars parked near the stretch of water, known as Lake Baldock. It was a pretty spot, surrounded by weeping willows that leaned over the still water which reflected their leafy, green heads. I got out of the car and joined Scaife who was leaning against a tree, placidly smoking.
‘Pretty nice spot, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘I bet you hated getting up at this time in the morning.’
‘Well, I did, but it’s worth it. I didn’t know the day could smell so nice.’ I looked over to where Creed, two cops and a guy who was putting on a frogman’s outfit were
‘Sounds fine,’ Creed said a little impatiently. ‘But Flemming didn’t want strawberry plants, did he?’
‘No, he didn’t. He just wanted the barrel. We got into an argument. I told him I didn’t sell the barrel without the plants or the soil. I make my profit on the plants and soil. The barrel I put in at cost.’
The three of us were listening now with interest.
‘What happened then?’ Creed asked.
‘We argued back and forth. He said he had strawberry plants. I didn’t believe him. A guy like him wouldn’t even have a garden. I can tell a gardener a mile off. Well, in the end, he agreed to pay me for the whole outfit and just take the barrel. He collected it in a truck the next day.’
‘Do you remember the exact date, Mr. Sperry?’
‘Yes. I looked it up before I came here. It was August 17th.’
Creed looked over at me: the date Fay Benson disappeared.
‘You didn’t get the number of the truck?’
‘I’m afraid I didn’t. Was it important?’
‘Maybe not. What kind of truck was it?’
‘A green, open truck; a one tonner. I didn’t notice much about it.’
Creed looked at Scaife.
‘Take Mr. Sperry to the morgue. Let him see Flemming, I want to be sure he identifies him.’ He got up and shook hands with Sperry. ‘Thanks for coming. If every citizen acted the way you’ve done, my work would be a lot easier.’
When Scaife had led Sperry, beaming and perspiring, from the office, I said, ‘A barrel - that doesn’t look too good for Fay Benson, does it?’
‘That was what I was thinking,’ Creed said, his eyes thoughtful. ‘I wonder if anyone in town sold him cement.’ He picked up the telephone and gave instructions for all cement sellers in the district to be checked. When he hung up, he went on to me, ‘That’s probably why we never turned up her body. She’s somewhere in a cement overcoat.’
I got up and went over to the wall map.
‘Is there any local water around where he could have dumped her?’
Creed joined me. He tapped the map.
‘Here; that’s Lake Baldock. There’s about sixty foot of water in the middle. It’s a favourite spot for picnic parties, and it’s only two miles from here.’
‘Anywhere else?’
‘Only the reservoir, and he wouldn’t try there because they are continually dragging it. Besides, there’s a high fence all around it. If she’s anywhere in water, she’ll be in Lake Baldock.’
‘Do we go and look?’
Creed scratched his head as he stared at the map.
‘I guess so. One of my men has a frogman’s outfit. He can take a look, and if he sees anything we’ll have to rig up some kind of hoist. That barrel’s going to be heavy.’
‘I’ll stick around, captain, until he’s had a look,’ I said. ‘No point in leaving town with this coming up. It’ll make headlines if we find her. When will you do it?’
‘Not before tomorrow. It’s too late in the day now. We don’t want a crowd watching us. I’ll start at six o’clock tomorrow.’
It meant my getting up at five o’clock and my instincts recoiled at the thought, but I could see it wouldn’t be wise to argue about it.
‘Okay,’ I said, ‘I’ll be there at six.’
II
T he sun was climbing above the belt of trees as I drove up to the two cars parked near the stretch of water, known as Lake Baldock. It was a pretty spot, surrounded by weeping willows that leaned over the still water which reflected their leafy, green heads. I got out of the car and joined Scaife who was leaning against a tree, placidly smoking.
‘Pretty nice spot, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘I bet you hated getting up at this time in the morning.’
‘Well, I did, but it’s worth it. I didn’t know the day could smell so nice.’ I looked over to where Creed, two cops and a guy who was putting on a frogman’s outfit were
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