The Lake District Murder (British Library Crime Classics) (20 page)

The Inspector gibed at himself inwardly. All very well to dabble in suppositions of this sort, but all the facts, at the moment, combined to prove that no fraud
was
being practised on the firm. Utterly disheartened, Meredith returned home to his wireless-set and attempted to drown his depression in a programme of light music. The further he went with the case, the more abstruse the problems became!

A little after one o’clock on Friday Penrith delivered the expected information from Dancy. “No surplus.” At five o’clock the earlier reports began to dribble in. At six the Superintendent walked into the office with an anxious, inquiring look on his features, and without preliminary demanded to know the latest news.

“There isn’t any,” said Meredith shortly. “We’re wasting our time, sir. That’s my feeling, anyway.”

He handed over Dancy’s messages.

“Four garages to-day,” observed the Superintendent, after he had read through the brief reports. “And another full load! How many reports still to come in, Meredith?”

“Only two, sir. The Stanley Hall and the Filsam. They’re the two isolated places.”

“And the Lothwaite?”

“I watched that myself, sir. Railton dealt with the Derwent. Both O.K. I stayed in hiding until the lorry had passed on its homeward run.”

“Then surely those two reports should be in by now?”

“I expect them at any minute, sir. The trouble is there’s no phone in the vicinity of either of the garages.”

“In the meantime, let’s take a look at what we know to date. Now, let’s see—advance-orders for two hundred gallons have been placed by the Ennerdale and the Queens Street in Whitehaven—Whittaker’s Garage in Maryport—and a four hundred gallon order by Drake’s in Cockermouth. All accounted for, I suppose?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve set aside the four reports.” The two men crouched forward over the paper-littered desk. “You notice that in each case a note has been taken as to the length of time taken by each discharge. By comparing——”

The phone bell rang jarringly at Meredith’s elbow.

“Excuse me, sir.” He took up the receiver. “Yes—Inspector Meredith—Keswick speaking. Covering the Filsam. Yes—I see. You’re sure about that? Right! Thanks.” Meredith hung up and turned to the Superintendent. “That was Constable Wilson, sir, covering the Filsam. Nothing to report. No. 4 passed both on its outward and inward run.”

“Damn!” was the Superintendent’s sole comment.

“That leaves the Stanley Hall place. And,” went on Meredith as the phone bell broke forth anew, “it sounds as if we’re booked for a final disappointment straight away.”

With a languid gesture he unhooked the receiver again and held it to his ear. After revealing himself to the distant voice, he resigned himself with a disinterested air to the reception of a further negative report.

Then suddenly his whole attitude changed. In a moment he was alert, tense, listening absorbed. Thompson, noting his expression, took a quick step forward,

“Yes. Yes. I’ve got that! On the homeward run? I see. Did you time the delivery. Good! Right—I’ve made a note of that. Anything suspicious to report? Nothing out of the way in the men’s behaviour? I see. No, that’s all. Put in a written report, of course. ‘Night, Constable.”

“Well?” demanded the Superintendent the instant Meredith had hung up.

“Something at last, sir!” exclaimed Meredith with a note of triumph. “The news would have come through earlier if Constable Brennen’s bike hadn’t petered out. He’s only just got into Cockermouth. He reports that No. 4 stopped at the Stanley Hall Filling Station at five-fifteen this evening!”

“Splendid, Meredith! Splendid!”

“He waited about a hundred yards up the road, pretending to tinker with the engine of his bike, until the feed-pipe had been coupled up with the garage tank. His idea was that once they were coupled up, even if he did put in a sudden appearance, it would be too late for them to cover up the fact that a delivery was being made. The moment Prince opened the valve, Brennen noted the time. He then began to walk slowly toward the garage, pushing his bike. Twice on the way he stopped to fiddle again with his engine. Reaching the pumps, he got into conversation with the proprietor and mentioned that he had got some sort of engine trouble. His arrival, so he reports, caused no sort of consternation. Bettle was still seated at the wheel of the lorry and Prince was at the rear of the tank with his hand on the control-valve. The proprietor said he’d attend to Brennen when he was finished with the lorry-men.

“They stood talking for two or three minutes before Prince turned off the valve. Brennen managed to lift his cuff, unobserved, and get a glance at his wristwatch. Prince then accompanied the proprietor to the office, where Brennen saw them signing some form of receipt. When Prince returned, about five minutes later, to the lorry, he uncoupled the feed-pipe, stowed it away, and screwed on the safety cap over the valve union. Then he climbed up beside Bettle and the lorry drove off.”

“Good man, Brennen,” said the Superintendent. “That was a smart piece of observation. Now then, Inspector, let’s see exactly where we are. Firstly, how long did it take to make the Stanley Hall delivery?”

“According to Brennen, just on seven and a half minutes, sir.”

“Which means?”

“Two hundred gallons—or near enough that it doesn’t matter.”

“Good. So it looks as if one of the four advance orders was delivered short. I suggest Drake’s order at Cockermouth—you remember, Meredith, that that was the four hundred gallon request?”

“But that couldn’t be done without the knowledge of the garage people, sir,” objected Meredith.

“Quite! I’m not suggesting it was. I’m suggesting that one of those advance-orders was faked. Drake really ordered two hundred gallons and the other two hundred was planted at the Stanley Hall place.”

“But that’s impossible, sir!” exclaimed Meredith. “For one thing, Dancy took that copy from Rose’s books in the office. If four hundred gallons was entered up against Drake’s name, then Drake would have to be charged for the full amount. Otherwise Rose wouldn’t be able to balance his accounts. Secondly, sir—take a look at this little table I’ve drawn up. It’s compiled from those four reports I showed you on the genuine deliveries.”

The Superintendent took up the sheet of paper and examined it carefully. It ran as follows:

“Good heavens, Inspector!” ejaculated the Superintendent when he had fully absorbed this astonishing document. “What the devil does it mean?”

“I only wish I knew, sir! But there’s no doubt that the full four hundred was delivered at Drake’s, is there? These times are just what we should expect. The Cockermouth order
should
have taken just twice as long to deliver as the other three orders.”

“That’s obvious. Then how on earth——?”

“Exactly, sir. How on earth, since the capacity load has been accounted for, could No. 4 deliver a further 200 gallons at the Stanley Hall garage?”

For a moment there was a silence, broken only by the tinkling of falling coals in the grate. Then——

“What about a false tank, Meredith? Or perhaps Dancy was wrong about the lorry’s capacity being only 1,000 galls.”

“Impossible, sir. These things are checked up by the Weights and Measures official. A dip is made of every new lorry that goes out on to the road. Dancy wouldn’t lie in the matter. He’d know as well as we do that it would be a perfectly simple matter to check up on the tank’s registered capacity. As for a false tank, sir. Well, that’s out of question. You couldn’t conceal a couple of hundred gallons surplus petrol on a lorry without altering the whole construction of the chassis. It’s too big an amount.”

“But good heavens, Meredith, have you any other suggestion? It’s obvious now that some sort of fraud is going on. You’ve offered objections to all my theories. It’s time you put up one of your own.”

“As far as I can see,” went on Meredith after a long silence, “there
is
only one other way in which the business could be managed.”

“And that?”

“The tanks of the genuine garages have been tampered with. In consequence of this a short delivery is made at each place, leaving a surplus in the bulkwagon.”

“But how could the garage tanks be tampered with?”

“Well, sir, I don’t quite——”

“Exactly!” snapped the Superintendent. “Neither do I! Now I’m going to make a suggestion. As this is a technical matter I think we should call in an expert. Mr. Weymouth, the Weights and Measures official over at Penrith, happens to be a friend of mine. It’s now seven o’clock. Suppose we motor over there straight away and have a word with him.”

CHAPTER XV

THE INSPECTOR OF WEIGHTS AND MEASURES

I
N
consequence of the Superintendent’s decision, shortly after eight, a police car pulled up outside a largish house in Milton Avenue, Penrith. In answer to Thompson’s inquiry, the maid informed him that her master was in, and a minute or so later the three men were seated before a cheerful fire in Mr. Weymouth’s sitting-room. The official, though elderly, was a keen, quick- witted individual, with twinkling blue eyes and a decisive, almost blunt manner of speaking.

While Thompson outlined the reasons for his visit, Mr. Weymouth refrained from uttering a word. At the conclusion of the Superintendent’s story he let out a sharp whistle, however, and began to ply him with questions.

“You say the bulk-wagon went out with advanceorders totalling 1,000 gallons, and that after these deliveries had been made a further delivery of 200 gallons was run into the Stanley Hall pump?”

“That’s correct.”

“But the thing’s manifestly impossible, Thompson! The capacity load of those Nonock tanks is exactly 1,000 gallons. I checked them myself before they went out on the road.”

“How long ago was that?”

“About seven years. When Ormsby-Wright’s new manager took over, an entirely new convoy of lorries was put on to the road. Three-compartment affairs. Up to date.”

“And you haven’t checked them since?”

Weymouth shook his head.

“No need. Once a dip has been taken of a new tank it’s never taken again. After all, you couldn’t squeeze in more than the registered capacity load without altering the shape of the tank, could you?”

Thompson and Meredith agreed in unison.

“When was this Stanley Hall delivery discharged—on the outward or homeward run?”

“Homeward,” said Meredith promptly.

Weymouth glanced across at him sharply.

“You’re sure? But, good heavens, they passed that garage on their outward run, didn’t they?”

The Inspector nodded.

“Well, it beats me,” exclaimed Weymouth. “It’s odd, to say the least of it. Here is a 200-gallon delivery to be made and instead of lightening the load on the outward run, they carry the stuff with them all round the coast towns. Now why the devil did they do that?”

“Perhaps Meredith has got an explanation,” said the Superintendent, with a sly chuckle. “He’s knocked all my pet theories on the head. Now it’s our turn, Weymouth!”

“Well, Mr. Weymouth,” said Meredith diffidently, “my suggestion was this. If they could deliver short on their genuine orders, they would then have something left over for their dishonest delivery at the Stanley Hall. That, at any rate, would account for their failure to deliver there on the
outward
run.”

“Umph,” grunted Weymouth. “Something in that. But how the deuce
could
they deliver short?”

“That’s just what we’ve come to you for, Weymouth—to find out!” put in Thompson. “Tell us—how do these garage people keep a check on a lorry’s delivery?”

“Simple!” said Weymouth, settling himself deeper into his arm-chair. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with the construction of a petrol pump? No? Very well—I’ll explain. First of all there’s the storage tank under the pump, and as that’s the part which concerns us, I won’t bother with the mechanism of the pump itself. When a new tank is installed, it’s my job to supervise the business. I have to see that the tank is, what you might call, well-founded. That is to say cemented into the pit and a good lining of sand laid between the cement and the surrounding earth. A fire precaution, of course. I then take a dip of the tank, check up the pump itself and see that the whole business is properly sealed in. After that I make periodic visits to see that the indicator on the pump is registering the true amount. That’s to protect the public. There are two inlets to the storage tank. Both in the form of countersunk pipes. On one of these there is a union to which the lorry’s delivery pipe is coupled. This countersunk pipe is also fitted with a padlocked cap, of which the employees of the petrol company hold the key. The second inlet is, in the strict sense of the word, not an inlet at all. It’s merely there so that the garage people can take a dip after a delivery has been discharged. You understand, gentlemen?”

Thompson and Meredith both nodded.

“You keep on talking about taking a dip, Weymouth. How is this done exactly?”

“By means of a calibrated brass rod. This rod is fixed to a cap, which seals up the second of the countersunk pipes. This cap, like the other, is usually locked and the key kept by the garage people. When a delivery has been made, the cap is unlocked and the brass rod pulled up from the tank. By the simple method of breathing on the rod, they get an indication of the petrol level. The dry part mists over and the dividing line between the misted and clear surfaces is then checked off on the numbered calibrations. That’s the complete process in a nutshell.”