Chapter Ten
Stopping only to detail Constable White (Chalky to his friends and colleagues, for deeply unimaginative but wholly traditional reasons) to go and ask a key question of a sailor, thereby redeeming the lad's reputation for his woeful performance at a murder scene, Collins retrieved the vehicle and they made good time to the insurance company's offices.
"Round the back, Collins," said Jack tersely, and with immediate understanding, Hugh put the car out of sight of the front entrance. Jack checked his watch; twenty minutes to go. He decided they were safe to use the front door, and discovered a welcoming committee in the form of Darius Small, Managing Director, waiting to whisk them to his office. There was a tall, bespectacled gentleman awaiting them there, introduced as Mr Binns, Claims Manager.
"Mr Binns will be performing the interview. This really is the most extraordinary circumstance, Inspector," said Small. "Are you quite sure of your facts?"
"No, I'm not," Jack admitted. "But I've learned not to put my neck on the line until I'm reasonably certain, and if Tombs took out a large policy only a matter of months ago, I think we've got cause to ask some awkward questions of the person who presents the claim - especially if they're doing so only a matter of hours after the death."
He tilted his head at Small. "To me, that smacks of desperation."
Small nodded. "That, I'll allow. A young man in good health; to insure his life, even for such a sum as twenty thousand, was very reasonable. From our actuaries' perspective, the risk was negligible."
Jack smiled slightly. "I wouldn't sack your actuaries quite yet, Mr Small. If I'm right, their assessment of the risk was spot on; and I'm assuming you don't have to pay out if the client's death is because he's found guilty of a felony?"
"Well, no." Small squirmed at the implication of the punishment for said felony. "What would you like us to do?"
Jack explained. Mr Binns, once he caught the gist, began to smile in that gentle, unassuming and faintly evil way that only a trained actuary can. He made a few careful notes in his pad, and asked a couple of very pertinent questions which nonetheless made the Inspector rather glad that he hadn't decided on a career in finance.
While Jack was winding up his peroration, the telephone rang on Small's desk. He picked it up, and listened.
"For you, Inspector. A Constable White?"
Jack thanked him and took the receiver. "Constable? Did you find him? Good. And …? Thank you. As we thought. Good work, White."
He hung up, and regarded the assembled company with satisfaction.
"I think we can now be almost certain that the deceased is not, as the gentleman on his way to your office is about to claim, Seth Tombs."
"Thank you, Inspector," said Small. "In that case, I think we can find a way to … expedite your investigation. Would you agree, Mr Binns?"
"Oh yes, sir," the other replied. "After all, identification is a very tricky matter. Very tricky indeed," he smiled. "I believe you said there was a question of a birthmark?"
Even as Jack nodded, Hugh Collins started to exclaim, "But sir, Tombs had a birthmark!"
"Only on the photograph Dawlish showed us from his wallet, Collins," corrected Jack matter-of-factly. "The photograph from his desk did not. I suspect the first version was one they'd prepared specially for us."
Binns was pulling on his lip pensively. "Yes, I think I can do this for you, Inspector. If Mr Dawlish attempts to describe either the deceased or Mr Tombs, he will fall over on this matter; and I will then come and fetch you. Is that satisfactory?"
The Inspector confirmed that this would indeed be satisfactory, and when the telephone again rang to announce Dawlish's arrival, Binns excused himself.
Within a mere quarter of an hour, Binns was back.
"Mr Dawlish is currently having a cup of tea while I fetch a file, Inspector," he said calmly. "He has, however, confirmed that, in complete accordance with our records, his very good friend Mr Tombs had no disfigurements, disabilities or blemishes of any kind - the young man, indeed, appears to have been the very vision of human perfection. Mr Dawlish expects that the doctor's certificate will be sufficient for us to release funds. I am happy to confirm that this will not be the case, as we have material doubts about the identity of the deceased to which the doctor's certificate refers. Would you like to take it from here?"
"Delighted to, Mr Binns; and please accept my grateful thanks."
Summoning Collins to join him, Jack followed the manager down one floor to an interview room. Binns bowed slightly and left them at the door; Jack opened it, and strolled in, to see Dawlish in the act of sipping tea with one hand and industriously picking his nose with the other.
"Mr Dawlish," Jack greeted him courteously.
The man was sufficiently startled to spill a little tea on his lap; that made him wince, which made the rest of the contents of the cup land on his leg.
Jack watched his agonies impassively.
"Inspector," eventually managed the man. "What - why?" He had a handkerchief out and was ineffectually dabbing at the stains on his trousers.
"Oh, just a routine question, sir," said Jack. "It's about a murder investigation, and I think you might be able to help us find the killer."
"But of course - I mean, anything I can do - but I really don't think - poor Seth …" stammered Dawlish.
"Oh, no, this is a quite different murder, sir" explained Jack. "I'm talking about the death of a merchant seaman called Edward Rose - nicknamed Rosy, I believe."
Dawlish went a particularly moist shade of pallid.
"We believe him to have been murdered on Monday night last in Little Bourke Street, and would therefore be interested in knowing the whereabouts of a gentleman who closely resembles him, for our investigations in relation to the murder. So, my question, Mr Dawlish, is this ..."
Jack stepped closer. If Dawlish could have shrunk any further away, he would have done.
"Where's Seth Tombs?"