Eager Beaver's secrets

Eager's boat still had police tape round it. If anything it looked even more ramshackle than when they had first seen it. Temple took his torch from the car boot. Once below deck, he shone its beams into every dark recess. The smell was as bad as ever, the dried blood added a musty scent to the already sour air.

"You've searched all the cupboards and drawers?" Temple asked Cantwell.

"Yep, Gov, ever single one."

Temple sat on the bench that ran the length of the cabin. He shone the torch under the bunk, above the bunk, into the galley. "Tap your way along that side." He nodded to the galley side of the boat. "I'll have a go at this side. Listen out for any hollows."

As Cantwell neared the galley stove, there was a noticeable change in tone to his knocks. He looked up excitedly. "There's something here."

Temple snatched a knife from one of the drawers and went over. Half an hour later, they had removed two thin half planks. In the gap between the wood and the hull was a space large enough to hold a fair sized metal box. They lifted it out and placed it on the table. It was a rectangular box about four inches wide by eight inches long and two inches deep. The metal was a dull silver colour and the box itself was heavy. It was also locked. They sat back and looked at it for some time, in silence.

"Did forensics find any keys?"

"No, Gov."

"We'll have to force it then. I don't want to do it at the station. I'd rather wait until we know exactly what's in it, before Baker starts asking his questions again." He pulled a bunch of skeleton keys from his pocket. None of them worked.

"Shall I have a go, Gov? I've got a set of suitcase and padlock keys here." He waved a small bunch in front of Temple's face. Most of them were obviously wrong. However, just as Temple had decided to look for a screwdriver, Cantwell took out a small sturdy key. There was a rewarding click and the box opened.

Cantwell lifted the lid and with the light from the torch, they saw two small note books and a brown pill bottle.

"Looks hopeful!" Temple exclaimed. "You look at that book and I'll examine this one."

The book Temple was reading listed dog race meetings and individual races going back over two years. Beside each race was a list of bets. Every third or fourth race there was a large red question mark followed by the initial 'R'.

The book Cantwell was examining was more like a journal. It also covered the last two years. The writing was small and almost unintelligible. Cantwell shook his head. "Deciphering this will take more than a bit of time, Gov. There's dates, names and most of it looks meaningless. It'll take a hot towel over your head to make any sense of it. The writing is minute!"

"Look, it's getting late." Temple said. "I'll take both books back to my place. You should get back to Debbie. At least you can have some of the afternoon and evening together."

"What about the bottle?"

"I'll drop it into the Path Lab in the morning. I guess this is what those thugs were looking for when they beat the poor bloke to a pulp."

Temple dropped Cantwell off at his home then drove back to his own flat. As he opened the front door, the cold damp air hit him. It was not so different, he thought, from Eager Beaver's boat. The thought depressed him. He lit the gas fire, put on the kettle, cut himself a wedge of cheddar cheese and some slices of stale bread. He switched on the wireless and waited for the kettle to boil.

The Home Service was broadcasting 'Down Your Way' from Oxford. "Bloody boring people with bloody boring lives." He said out loud as he buttered the bread and made the tea. "Still, they're probably a damn sight better off and more content than I am."

After his snack, he took a second cup of tea to the small table by his armchair and began reading one of the books. Before he did so, however, he re-read Brenda's account of the Saturday night fiasco. After two hours solid reading, he dozed off into an uneasy sleep.