The Black Cat - 3. The Taxi Driver

Ahmed and Salahadin left Pearson’s room and went downstairs. They sat down and the manager brought them some coffee.

“How can we find the seventh box?” asked Ahmed.
“I need your help,” replied Salahadin.
“How can I help you?” asked Ahmed.
“The murderer took the box with him,” said Salahadin. “It was heavy and it’s hot today. The murderer did not carry the box very far. Perhaps he took a taxi.”

“That’s possible,” aggred Ahmed. “And you want to find that taxi. But, how can I hep you?”
“You can send out a police message on Radio Cairo,” replied Salahadin.
“That’s true,” agreed Ahmed. “What shall I say in the message?”

“When did Pearson die?” asked Salahadin.
“About half pas ten this morning,” replied Ahmed.
“Then, here’s the message,” said Salahadin. “The police want to speak to a taxi driver. This taxi driver was near the Nile Hotel at about eleven o’clock this morning. A man got into his taxi. The man was carrying a heavy box. The police want to speak to the taxi driver as soon as possible.”

“Good,” said Ahmed. “I’ll put out this message immediately.”
“Most taxis have radios,” said Salahadin. “Perhaps a taxi driver will remember a man with a heavy box.”

“I’ll get back to my office,” went on Salahadin. “When anything happens, let me know.”
“I’ll telephone you immediately,” replied Ahmed.

It was not late afternoon. Outside on the street it was still very hot. Salahadin got into a taxi. Luckily there were few cars and the streets were almost empty. He soon arrived back in his office.

Salahadin turn on the radio. He heard the message. It was repeated after fifteen minutes. Salahadin waited. Suddenly the telephone rang. It was Ahmed.

“We’ve been lucky,” said Ahmed. “A taxi driver is here in my office. A man with a heavy box got into his taxi near the Nile Hotel.”
“At what time?” asked Salahadin.
“At eleven o’clock this morning,” replied Ahmed. “Do you want to speak at him?”
“Certainly,” replied Salahadin. “I’ll come round to your office immediately.”

Ahmed’s office was quite near. Salahadin walked there. The sun had gone down and it was becoming cooler.
The taxi driver was waiting in Ahmed’s office. He was a fat, happy looking man. He was also intelligent. Salahadin took out his notebook and asked the taxi driver some questions.

“At what time did this man get into your taxi?” asked Salahadin.
“A few minutes before eleven o’clock,” replied the taxi driver. “He got in quite near the Nile Hotel.”
“Was he carrying anything?” Salahadin asked.
“Yes,” replied the taxi driver, “a heavy box.”
“And what did he look likes?” asked Salahadin.
“He was tall with broad shoulders,” replied the taxi driver. “He had fair hair. He spoke Arabic, but he was not an Arab. Perhaps he was Swedish.”

Salahadin thought for a few moments. Then he asked the taxi driver another question.
“This man spoke Arabic, did he?” asked Salahadin. “What kind of Arabic did he speak?”
“What do you mean?” asked the driver.
“Did he speak Arabic like an Egyptian?” asked Salahadin.
“Oh, no,” said the taxi driver. “He spoke like a Lebanese.”
“Where did you take this man?” said Salahadin, continuing his questions.
“I took him to the railway station,” replied the driver. “He wanted to get there before twelve o’clock.”
“The express train for Alexandria,” said the taxi driver immediately. “I know all the trains. The express train leaves Cairo at tweleve o’clock and arrives in Alexandria at half past two.”

Salahadin had been lucky. He had found out some important facts. He looked at the notes in his book.