No Business of Mine

“I think I’ll take a trip to Lakeham and see Miss Scott. I’d like to know where these bonds came from. If she can’t tell me, I’ll have to check them. That may be a longish job; still, I want to know.”

“Could I come with you to Lakeham?” I asked. “I’ll play Watson to your Holmes. Besides, I’d like to meet the sister. Maybe she doesn’t know Netta’s dead. I think I should be there when the news is broken.”

“By all means come,” he said, getting to his feet. “Shall we say tomorrow morning? We can go down by car.”

“Swell. But don’t think you’re through yet,” I said. “There’s one more thing I want you to do. Where can I see Netta? I want to see her before she’s buried.”

“A bit morbid, aren’t you?” he shot at me. “What good can that do you?”

“I’m funny that way,” I said, stubbing out my cigar. “Suppose you come along too? I want you to see her if only to be in a better position to judge when the lid comes off this business, as I’m sure it will. I have a hunch we’re on to something that’s going to be big, and you’ll thank me in the long run for putting you wise.”

“I’ve never met such a chap,” Corridan muttered, went over to the telephone, called the Yard.

I stood by while he ordered a police car to pick us up outside the Savoy.

“Come along,” he said, “if it hadn’t been such a damn good dinner I’d have told you to have gone to blazes, but I suppose I’ll have to pay for my entertainment. Who knows, you may invite me again.”

“Maybe I will at that,” I said, following him along the corridor to the elevator.

It took us under a quarter of an hour to reach the mortuary, and the officer in charge, startled to have a visit from Corridan, came out to greet us.

“Netta Scott,” Corridan said abruptly. He was always short with his inferiors in rank. “You have her here. We want to see her.”

The constable, a young, red-faced country-looking fellow, shook his head. “Not now, sir,” he said. “She was here, but she was taken to the Hammersmith mortuary an hour ago.”

Corridan frowned. “Oh? On whose orders?”

“I don’t know, sir,” the constable replied, looked blank.

“You don’t know?” Corridan barked, “But surely you had an official order before you let them take the body?”

The constable changed colour. “Well, no, sir,” he said. “I’m new here. I... I didn’t know an order was necessary in this case. The driver of the ambulance said there’d been a mistake, and the remains should ’ave gone to Hammersmith. I let him take the body.”

Corridan, his face dark with fury, pushed past the constable, went into the office, slammed the door.

The constable stared after him, scratched his head. “Now I wonder what’s up,” he said, looking at me. “Do you think I did wrong, sir?”

I shrugged. “Search me,” I said, feeling uneasy. “But you’ll know before long.”

After several minutes, Corridan came out of the office, walked past the constable, jerked his head at me. At the door he paused, looked back.

“You’ll hear a lot more about this, my man, before very long,” he snapped at the constable, walked to the police car.

I got in beside him, and as we drove off, I said, “Well, do we go to Hammersmith?”

“Hammersmith didn’t send for the body,” Corridan growled. “Anyone but a fool would have known it was a plant. A couple of hours back an ambulance was reported stolen. Someone-believe it or not-has kidnapped Netta Scott’s body. It’s fantastic! Why, for God’s sake?” and he thumped the hack of the driver’s seat with his clenched fist.

Chapter Four

The next morning, I awoke with a start. The telephone was ringing, and sitting up in bed, I grabbed the receiver, stifling a yawn as I did so. I peered at my bedside clock and saw it was ten minutes past eight, grunted, “Who is it?”

“Inspector Corridan asking for you,” the porter said.

“All right, send him up,” I returned, snatched up my dressing-gown and rushed into the bathroom for a hasty shower.

I had slept badly, and was still feeling a little piqued at the abrupt way Corridan had returned me to the Savoy. He had said, “Sorry, Harmas, but this is police business now. Can’t take you along with me,” and that was that. Of course, he was rattled, and I realized that he had something to get rattled about, but I thought he had a nerve to ditch me after I’d given him so much data to work on; but Corridan was like that. When he started on a job, he worked alone.

I was just coming out of the bathroom when I heard a rap on my door. I opened it; Corridan entered. He looked tired, was unshaven.

“Have you only just got up?” he snapped, tossing his hat on a chair. “I haven’t even been to bed.”

“You don’t expect me to sob over that item of news, do you?” I returned. “After the way you dropped me last night?”

He looked more surly than ever, sat down. “Get me some coffee, there’s a good fellow, and don’t grouse,” he said, “I’ve had a hell of a night.”

I picked up the telephone, called the floor waiter, ordered coffee.

“You have only yourself to blame,” I said. “If you’d have kept me with you, I’d have halved your work.”