The blue bead was soon identified. It was that season’s model.
‘And to which Holiday Ranch, sir?’
Sir Egbert consulted a chart. ‘Bowerville-by-the-sea.’
‘Bowerville-by-the-sea?’ repeated MacGregor as he wrote the name down in his notebook. ‘Where’s that, sir?’
‘Northumberland,’ said Sir Egbert with every confidence. ‘Or Yorkshire. Somewhere up there.’
MacGregor frowned. ‘In either case it’s a long way from Muncaster where the body was found.’
‘Motorways,’ opined Sir Egbert. In his line of business communications were important. ‘From anywhere to anywhere in a matter of minutes.’
‘I suppose the best thing,’ said MacGregor, more or less thinking aloud, ‘would be for us to have a word with the manager. And, indeed, anybody else who was up there at the relevant time.’ He turned to Sir Egbert. ‘I suppose somebody will be able to let us have the names and addresses of all the staff and the holiday-makers, sir? We may need to interview the lot before we’re through.’
Dover, who could still taste that whisky, hadn’t been feeling too bright even before this appalling prospect opened up before him. ‘’Strewth!’ he ejaculated weakly. It was, as things turned out, his most valuable contribution to the discussion.
‘H’easy,’ said Sir Egbert. ‘Course, if you go up to Bowerville- by-the-sea, you’ll find the manager and some of the staff still there. Not the part-timers, of course. They’re only employed for the summer months.’
‘Is the Holiday Ranch still open, sir?’ MacGregor was surprised. ‘At this time of year?’
‘We can’t afford to ‘ave a capital asset standing idle for four months out of twelve,’ explained Sir Egbert with slightly more difficulty than usual. The thought of fluctuating profits did tend to make him over-emotional. ‘Not these days. Then there’s our workers. They want regular employment.’
‘But do you get holiday-makers in November or February?’ There’s old-age pensioners,’ said Sir Egbert. ‘We offer very competitive terms and most of ‘em don’t suit central ’eating anyhow. Then there’s people taking a winter break, and conferences. That’s where the big money is. A couple of really big conferences that take over an entire Ranch and we’re laughing. We turn the ballrooms into conference ’alls and the gymnasiums into h’exhibition centres and we can provide dozens of smaller, committee-type rooms as well. Nothing’s too much trouble. They’re big spenders, you see. Drink the bar dry every night, if you’re lucky.’
‘Really?’ said MacGregor who was always willing to have his horizons widened.
‘Of course,’ Sir Egbert went on, ‘mostly we deal with smaller groups. You can ’ave as much or as little accommodation as you want, you know. We get ’undreds of ’em. Trade unions and toy soldier collectors and women’s lib and folk dancing and regimental reunions – you name ’em, we’ve ’ad ’em.’ Sir Egbert looked up. He was not the man to miss a golden opportunity. ‘I’ll give you a few of our brochures,’ he said. ‘Maybe some of your police organisations . . . Special terms, naturally.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said MacGregor, absent-mindedly but still polite. ‘Actually, I was wondering if I’d got the picture absolutely straight. This piece of Funny Money which was found in the stomach of the dead man came – and could only have come – from your Holiday Ranch at Bowerville-by-the-sea.’
‘He could have picked it up in the street,’ said Sir Egbert, still anxious not to have his organisaton too closely involved. ‘Or somebody could ’ave give it to him. There’s no proof he was ever anywhere near Bowerville.’
‘Oh, there are numerous possibilities, I agree, sir, but for the moment I think we’ve got to proceed on the theory that the unknown dead man has some connection with your Holiday Ranch at Bowerville-by-the-sea. He must have been trying to tell us something when he swallowed that blue bead.’
‘You think he was a holiday-maker there?’
That seems the likeliest explanation.’
Sir Egbert sank back in his chair with a faint whistle. ‘It’ll run into thousands,’ he prophesied. ‘Thousands and thousands. Most of ’em only stay one week, and Bowerville-by-the-sea can take three ’undred. You’ll be at it till Doomsday.’
Dover twitched unhappily but MacGregor, the bloom of youthful enthusiasm still upon his cheek, refused to be daunted. ‘Oh, it won’t be as bad as all that, sir. We can eliminate all the women for a start, and there’ll be all the men who are obviously in the wrong age group. That should cut the numbers down quite considerably. We’re used to jobs of this type, sir. I think we have quite a reasonable chance of identifying our dead man, and then we can start going after his murderer.’ MacGregor stood up. ‘Thank you for sparing us so much of your time, sir.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Sir Egbert, watching with interest as MacGregor began to assist Dover out of his armchair. Sir Egbert hadn’t been able to make Dover out at all. Could such a dopey-looking lump really be a high-powered detective? God knows, Sir Egbert wasn’t fussy about the quality of the hired help – he’d learned not to be over the years – but even he’d think twice about giving this one a job sorting out the pig swill.
MacGregor had got Dover almost to the door before Sir Egbert mentioned that there was a favour he wanted to ask. He’d been having second thoughts about this business of the publicity. ‘The blue bead is still my property, I believe, sergeant.’
‘That’s a debatable point, sir. If somebody bought it off you . . .’
‘I think you’ll find that, technically, we lease the things rather than sell ’em.’
‘In any case, we shall have to hang on to it for the time being,’ said MacGregor, contriving to prop Dover up against the wall while he got the door open. ‘It’s vital evidence.’
‘You’ll let me ’ave it back in the end, though?’
MacGregor thought that this could probably be arranged. When the door had finally closed behind his visitors, Sir Egbert let his face relax into a hopeful grin. A glass case? A velvet cushion, perhaps? Uniformed guards and a fifty-pence entrance fee? Yes, properly handled, that
