No Business of Mine

“I’m seeing the Chief in half an hour’s time, and I thought I’d look in on my way to tell you the news,” Corridan said. “First the gun. It belonged to a fellow named Peter Utterly, a lieutenant in the U.S. Army. He’s been repatriated, but we persuaded the authorities on the other side to get a statement from him. Apparently he knew Netta Scott, gave her the Luger as a souvenir. You’ll remember I told you that was the probable explanation of the gun.”

“You’ve been quick,” I said, a little disappointed that the explanation should be so commonplace.

“Oh, we work fast when necessary,” Corridan said, looked dour.

“So much for the gun. We traced the ambulance. It was found on Hampstead Heath, but the body is still missing. We have a description of the driver, but it could fit any young fellow. Where the body’s got to defeats me, and why it was stolen defeats me still more.”

“There must be an explanation,” I said, waving to the waiter who had just entered to put the coffee on the table. “Unless it was a practical joke.”

Corridan shrugged. “We’ll get to the bottom of it,” he said, glanced at his watch. “Let’s have that coffee. I have to be off in a moment.”

While I was pouring the coffee, he went on, “I’ve had the bonds checked. They are forgeries. That’s always something to worry about. Can you suggest why this girl should be hiding forged bonds in her flat?”

“Not unless someone gave them to her, and she thought they were genuine,” I said, handing him the cup of coffee. “Of course, I’ve been out of touch with Netta for a long time now. She may have got into bad company, but I doubt it.”

He sipped the coffee, grunted. “I think that’s likely,” he said. “The diamond ring you found has a history. It’s part of a considerable amount of jewellery stolen a few weeks ago. The owner of the jewellery, Hervey Allenby, identified the ring late last night. Our people have been waiting for the stuff to come into the market. This ring is the first sign of it. How do you think she got hold of it?”

I shook my head, perplexed. “Maybe someone gave it to her,” I said.

“Then why should she hide it at the bottom of a jar of cold cream?” Corridan returned, finishing his coffee. “Odd place to keep a ring unless you have a guilty conscience, isn’t it?”

I said it was.

“Well, it’ll sort itself out,” Corridan went on. “I still don’t think we have any grounds to suppose the girl was murdered, Harmas. After all that’s the thing that was worrying you. You can leave this other business to me.”

“So you’re going to play copper, are you?” I said. “Well, I think someone knocked her off. If you’ll take the trouble to use that hat rack you call a head, I’ll explain in two minutes why it wasn’t suicide.”

He eyed me coldly, moved to the door.

“I’m afraid I can’t spare the time, Harmas,” he said. “I have a lot to do, and newspaper men’s theories scarcely interest me. Sorry, but I suggest you leave this to those competent to handle it.”

“There must be times when Mrs. Corridan is very proud of you,” I said sarcastically. “This is one of them, I should think.”

“I’m single,” he said. “Sorry to disappoint you. I must be getting along.” He paused at the door. “I’m afraid there can be no question of you coming with me to see this Anne Scott. This is official business now. We can’t have Yankee newspaper men barging in on our preserves.”

I nodded. “Okay,” I said. “If that’s the way you feel, think no more about it.”

“I won’t,” he said, with a sour smile, quietly left the room.

For a moment or so I was too mad to think clearly, then I calmed down, had to grin. If Corridan thought he could keep me out of this business he was crazy.

I bundled into my clothes, grabbed the telephone and asked Inquiries how I could hire a car. They said they’d have one ready for me in twenty minutes after I’d explained I could get petrol on my Press card. I smoked two cigarettes, did a little thinking, then went downstairs.

They had found me a Buick. I was too scared to ask them how much it would cost, took the hall porter aside and inquired my way to Lakeham. He said that it was a few miles from Horsham, and suggested I should leave London via Putney Bridge and the Kingston By-pass. The rest of the run, he told me, would be simple as Horsham was well signposted.

In spite of its rather obvious age, the Buick ran well, and I reached the Fulham Road in less than a quarter of an hour and without having to ask the way. At this time of the morning, the traffic was coming into London, and I had practically a clear road ahead of me.

As I passed the Stamford Bridge football ground, one of the landmarks described by the hall porter, I noticed in the driving mirror a battered Standard car which I was fairly certain I’d seen behind me at Knightsbridge. I thought nothing of it until I reached Putney Bridge when I spotted it again. Being still a little jittery from the attack of last night, I began to wonder if I was being tailed.