Faintley Speaking

Chapter Five

DETECTIVE-INSPECTOR DARLING

‘… and now let us take a walk a little way out of the town.’

the brothers grimm – The Dog and the Sparrow

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But, in spite of these words, Detective-Inspector Darling was dissatisfied. Crime, in Kindleford, was of the dull, unrewarding kind. Offensive parking of cars on the wrong side of the High Street on Wednesdays and Fridays – Friday was market day in Kindleford – petty larceny in which the culprit (bone-headed, in the detective-inspector’s opinion) was only too easily distinguishable; an occasional misinterpretation of the licensing laws, were all the grist which had ever come to his mill until the extraordinary death, on holiday, of this obscure, inoffensive (so far as he knew or was concerned), little-known, unattractive school-marm.

He was not an unduly ambitious officer, but he had often longed for a case which would make headlines in the big newspapers. He had often longed for a case of murder. It had come his way, but for all the good it did him it might as well never have happened, he considered. The murder, although it was the murder of one of Kindleford’s residents, had had the tactlessness to take place in another county. His co-operation was vital to the police of that county, but instead of being in a position to take fingerprints, photograph the body, make brilliant deductions from the medical evidence and arrest the wrongdoer in a flood of limelight, the only thing he could do was to badger, respectively, a rather elderly lady, aunt to the deceased Miss Faintley, a young, impecunious, obviously innocent author and a miserable little rat of a shopkeeper, who had probably told him already everything he knew. He decided to leave the aunt alone and to concentrate first on Mandsell.

The author seemed pleased with life and welcomed him cordially, although a fountain-pen in his hand and an ink-smudge on his nose indicated that he was busy with composition.

‘I’ve sold a short story,’ he said, ‘and do you know what I’ve based it on?’

‘I couldn’t begin to guess, sir, unless on the tale of Miss Faintley’s mysterious parcel. And that being so —’

‘I’ve told you all I know,’ said Mandsell hastily, ‘so I didn’t see why I shouldn’t make use of the idea. It couldn’t possibly matter to anyone else.’

‘I’m not so sure of that, sir. After all, the fact remains that you accepted this parcel from Hagford, delivered it to Tomson in Miss Faintley’s name, did not get a receipt, and then we learn of the death of Miss Faintley, to whom the parcel was addressed.’

‘You can’t say it was the result of what I did… her death, you know. She was killed on holiday. There’s nothing on earth to connect her death with the parcel.’

‘Not necessarily, sir, I agree, but, so far as we can see, these parcels were a bit of a mystery. You wouldn’t care to hazard a guess what was in the one you carried?’

‘I haven’t a clue. I wish I had. I’m pretty sure it was wooden – it was very firm, you know, not just brown paper and string – and I know it was rather like a photograph, but that’s as much as I can tell you.’

‘You acted very rashly, sir, in deciding to undertake this little commission. Tomson is by way of being a marked man.’

‘Yes, but I couldn’t know that. What I did was more or less as a joke.’

‘Very likely, sir. We are quite prepared to accept that explanation. But now, sir, this walk you took on a very wet, unpleasant evening.’

‘Yes, I was worried. I was rather exercised in my mind about my royalties.’

‘In other words, you were on the rocks, sir. That’s what we understand from your landlady. Then, suddenly, on the following day, you found yourself in a position to pay her four pounds.’

Mandsell, who had not thought fit to disclose this fact, looked apprehensive.

‘Well, that wasn’t very much, was it?’ he said belligerently.

‘You wouldn’t care to tell me how you came into the possession of the four pounds, sir?’ The Inspector’s voice was persuasive but his eye was keen.

‘I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you mean!’

‘Of course I don’t mean that, sir. We know where it came from, and you would do better to trust us. Now, about you and Miss Faintley and the telephone conversation. Haven’t you any idea at all as to the identity of the gentleman that walked away down Park Road just before you arrived at the telephone-box?’

‘Not a clue. It was raining hard, you know, and, as I think I told you, his coat-collar was pulled right up and his hat right down. I’d hardly have recognized him if he’d been my best friend.’

‘You knew all about Tomson, at the drapery shop, of course, sir?’

‘Never saw him in my life until I handed in that parcel. Had to remember where the shop was, as a matter of fact.’

‘We’ve had our eye on him for some time. We think he may be a receiver of stolen goods.’

‘I thought he might be, too, but it wasn’t any business of mine. I simply collected the parcel and handed it over.’

‘Thus carrying out the wishes of an unknown voice on the telephone… and in a public call-box at that?’

‘I know it sounds silly, but it seemed a good idea at the time.’

‘The gentlemen who get those kind of good ideas, sir, are apt to end up in trouble. Now, sir, I suggest that we are not being frank with one another. If I lay my cards on the table I shall expect to see your hand, too. I have reason to believe that you were bribed by Tomson to forget all about getting a receipt for Miss Faintley’s parcel.’

‘He gave me five pounds, and I took it. It wasn’t as though I knew the first thing about Miss Faintley or where to contact her,’ said Mandsell, giving way at last, ‘but I did not take the money as a bribe. I shall pay it back.’

‘Well, sir, as to that, we must take your word for it. But if you should decide to give us a little more information, well, I don’t mind saying we could do with it. This is a funny kind of business, and those that help the authorities won’t find reason to regret it. Could I have the name and address of your publishers, sir?’

‘Certainly. Here’s the letter they sent me, but, honestly, I can’t help you. I certainly would if I could.’

‘Many thanks, sir. You’ll hear from us again in due course, when we’ve pushed the inquiry further forward.’

‘Is that a threat, may I ask?’

‘We don’t threaten people, sir. But the law is the law, and the law is against murder, so, if you should remember anything else, sir —’

‘There’s nothing more to remember, and… well, I needn’t have come to you, you know!’

‘We quite appreciate that, sir, but murder’s a very nasty business to be mixed up in.’

‘Look here,’ said Mandsell desperately, ‘I don’t know much about the law, but I’ve told the truth as far as I see it. Damn it all, I’ve even admitted now that I took the five pounds that miserable little tradesman offered me! All the same, it isn’t my business if some wretched, unknown female chooses to get herself bumped off! I own to calling for the parcel. I didn’t know then what was in it and I don’t know now. It might have been a silly thing to do. I daresay it was. But I did it without thinking. I own, too, that I ought not to have accepted the five pounds, but I was desperate for money, turned out of my digs, and with nowhere to go and nobody to turn to. I meant to pay back the money… I knew it was a fishy business… and I still mean to return it. I’m only waiting for my royalties to turn up. You’ve got no reason to keep badgering me like this!’

‘Just one more question, and I’m through, sir, for the present. Can you be any more exact about the parcel?’

‘I don’t think so. It was about twenty inches long, twelve to fourteen inches wide, and, possibly, half an inch thick.’

‘I see, sir. What about the weight? Could it have contained metal, for instance?’

‘Good heavens, no. It was quite light. Could have been sent by post easily. Can’t think why it wasn’t. No reason at all for sending it by rail.’

‘Thank you, sir. That may be very important. Now, if I may make a suggestion, I advise you to watch your step, same as it wouldn’t have done Miss Faintley much harm if she had managed to watch hers a bit more closely. There’s something funny going on, sir, and precautions may be very necessary. I’ll go farther, and put you under police protection after this, if you like.’

‘I can’t imagine any danger. After all, I did hand over the parcel and Tomson knows it.’

‘If he chooses to tell the real owners of the parcel that you didn’t, you might be in quite a spot of trouble, sir. It wasn’t very likely the parcel belonged to Miss Faintley. I have reason to think she was simply a sort of go-between. She didn’t deliver the goods, so they bumped her off, but by this time Tomson will have wised-up the murderers that she never even saw this particular parcel, but that you – an unauthorized collector – did.’

‘But that’s tantamount to confessing he’s kept it himself!’

‘He’s a foxy type, sir. He’ll have thought of some yarn to fix the stealing on to you. He’s let himself in so deep, it seems to me, that at present he’s got far more reason (or so he thinks) to fear some crook than to fear the police. I could even bet on the sort of yarn he’s told them. You came into the shop, he’ll say, with the parcel, but wanted to stick him a good-sized sum for handing it over the counter. He refused your terms and pointed out it was Miss Faintley’s business to pay you if she’d got you to do her job for her, and before he knew what was happening you shot out of the door and were up the street before he could say Jack Robinson. That’s about the size of what he would tell these people, sir, and if Miss Faintley was murdered because they thought she’d kept the parcel… well, I hope you see what I mean, sir!’

Mandsell did see, but only in the sense that he saw violent actions on the films.

‘All the same, they wouldn’t dare touch me,’ he said. He had that feeling, common to all healthy people, that troubles and violence come to others, but not to the onlooker. ‘Still, if I note one of your Roberts tagging on to me, I’m to understand that his diligence is entirely on my behalf. Is that the ticket?’

‘More or less, sir. But I hope you won’t be aware of him. He won’t be much good at his job if he’s as obvious as all that.’ He nodded genially, and went straight to Tomson’s stores. No one was visible, so Darling shouted, ‘Shop!’ After a short interval Tomson came shuffling out from a room behind the counter.

‘Ah, Tomson! Busy?’

‘No, I ain’t, not on a Monday.’

‘Good. Back of the shop?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. I’ll hear the bell if anybody comes in, but Mondays is always slack.’ Tomson sounded lugubrious. The flap of the counter came up and Darling passed through. The room behind the shop was dark and smelt of stale fish. Darling sat down at the table and Tomson took a rocking-chair at the side of the empty fireplace.

‘This parcel for Miss Faintley. You knew what was in it, of course,’ said the Inspector. ‘Why don’t you open up? There’s nothing to connect you with the murder, and you could help us a lot if you liked.’

‘Yes, and get myself jugged without the option. I know you nosey-parker coppers,’ said Tomson morosely.

‘Now, look here, Tomson, you’ve never been in trouble with us yet, so why begin? We know quite a lot about you, but we’ve never been able to prove anything – not for want of trying, let me tell you. But murder’s an entirely different matter from the sort of thing you’ve been used to. And don’t think I blame you, either, for trying to make a little bit on the side. It must be devilish difficult to make a living out of a small back-street business these days.’

‘You’re telling me! All right, then, here it is. I do take in parcels for one or two people, and I’ve been told to expect this parcel. I don’t know what’s in it, no more than you do, and that’s gospel.’

‘Oh? And hadn’t you any idea of what was in any of the parcels you took in for Miss Faintley?’

‘Sort of, of course. I mean to say, just common sense to find out what goes on. What I took in was statues and that.’

‘Statues?’

‘Yes, statues. Know what a statue is, don’t you?’ His self-confidence was returning.

‘What sort of statues?’ inquired Darling in a tone devoid of offence.

‘Oh, nothing rude. Dancing girls and chaps in top-hats put on sideways. Once one got broke inside the parcel. That’s ’ow I know, otherwise I wouldn’t ’ave done. I wasn’t paid to play nark to the police, I was paid to take in them parcels, and that’s as far as it went.’

Darling smiled.

‘Suppose I told you we have reason to think that the parcels contained diamonds from Amsterdam? Gome on, out with it! Where are the diamonds now?’

‘Easy on, now, Inspector!’ Tomson’s tone had changed. ‘I’ve allowed a parcel got broke. It wasn’t no fault of mine, and I never took no diamonds. Because why? – There wasn’t no diamonds to take.’

‘What happened to them, then? Don’t tell me you were clever enough to piece the statue together again, so that the real consignee’ – he paused, but Tomson did not help him – ‘couldn’t tell that it had ever been broken!’

‘Of course not. I sent on the pieces and kept me mouth shut, but there wasn’t no diamonds nor nothing in the parcel, and that I swear.’

‘I’ll bet you kept your mouth shut! What else did you keep?’

‘Not diamonds, I swear it! I sent on the bits, like I said just now, so the other party didn’t worry, I suppose. I said there’d been an accident with the thing. As a matter of fact, I felt properly had. There wasn’t nothing but a leaf of fern.’

‘Who is the other party?’

‘I don’t know. I never only write to box numbers.’

‘What was the number of this particular box?’

‘How d’you expect me to remember? It’s news to me that it’s again’ the law to take parcels in to be called for!’

‘Too right, I believe. Oh, by the way, were all the parcels alike?’

‘Just exactly. Same shape, same weight, same size.’

‘We have evidence that that isn’t true. Don’t try any funny stuff. What were the other parcels like?’

‘I never took in no others.’

‘Don’t be a fool. Anyway, talking of the parcels you admit of accepting, how did the statues reach the end of their journey?’

‘Collected up from this ’ere shop, of course.’

‘By Miss Faintley?’

‘She delivered ’em to me, but she never collected any up.’

‘Well, who did, then?’

‘I dunno.’

‘How do you mean, you don’t know?’

‘All I done, I took in the parcels, see, and give a receipt. ’Ad to show the receipt to prove the package ’ad been ’anded over to my shop, I suppose. Well, when I gets the parcel, I writes to the box number, whatever it is —’

‘How did you know which box number to write to? Was it a regular series?’

‘No. I used to be given a different one each time.’

‘By post? Did you get this information through the post?’

‘That’s right. Type-wrote, envelope and all, giving me the box number they was going to use next.’

‘How often did the parcels come?’

‘There wasn’t no set time. Sometimes it’ud be months, and once I ’ad three in a week.’

‘How many altogether?’

The shopkeeper hesitated; then he handed over a small notebook.

‘It’s all in ’ere. You better stick to it. I been thinking, and I don’t think I want to be mixed up in nothing like murder. Murder’s wicked, that’s what murder is.’

‘Quite right, Tomson. And now, to go back to where we branched off, you say you don’t know who collected the parcels from you. How was that?’

‘Whoever it was ’ad a key to my shop-door. All I done was leave the parcel on the counter as soon as I’d wrote to the box number to say I’d got something for ’em, and then, next night, they’d come along with the key and let theirselves in and out, and take the parcel with ’em.’

‘And you’ve no idea who came?’

‘I wasn’t paid to ’ave ideas, and the pay was reg’lar, whether any parcels come or not.’

‘But you knew, with all this secrecy, that these people couldn’t have been up to any good!’

‘I thought they was on the windy side of the law, but it wasn’t none of my business. And when I seen what there was… the bit of fern, I mean… in that statue, I didn’t worry no more. A man’s got to live, same as what you said yourself just now.’

‘How did you first get into the game? Using this shop for letters that weren’t to be delivered to private houses?’

‘Could ’ave been, couldn’t it? Your guess is as good as mine. It wasn’t nothing wrong.’

‘You’re quite certain?… You wouldn’t care to name any names?’

‘I don’t know no names, that’s what. I’ve told you the truth because I don’t want to get mixed up in no murders.’

‘You haven’t told me the whole truth, as I know for a fact. And don’t bother to tell me you don’t know who Mr Mandsell might be, because I’m sure you do, and, if you don’t, you can guess.’

Tomson swore.

‘I don’t know what happened to it, I tell you!’

‘Suit yourself, but, if you’re going to be a fool and land yourself in a mess, don’t come to us to get you out of it!’

Tomson laughed. His mirth had an unpleasant sound and Darling told him briefly to come off it.

‘I don’t want no police protection because I ’aven’t done nothing wrong,’ said Tomson, becoming plaintive. ‘It’s ’ard to make an honest living these days.’

‘But not quite so hard to make a dishonest one,’ retorted Darling. ‘If you take my advice, you’ll come clean. I’d much sooner believe Mr Mandsell’s word than I would yours, for reasons we both understand, and Mr Mandsell’s description of the parcels doesn’t tally with yours. Now, then, what about it?’

But Tomson was either too wily, or too much afraid of his mysterious employers, to say more than:

‘I can’t ’elp what ’e says, can I? I’m telling you what I know. It was statues and the one what got broke ’ad a bit of fern inside, and that’s all.’

Darling returned to Vardon.

‘It’s still all guesswork what the parcels contained,’ he said. ‘Either Tomson’s lying, or else there are two types of parcels. Our best plan, at this end, is to keep an eye on this chap Mandsell, I think. There’s a gang at work, of course. That sticks out a mile. If the gang try and lay Mandsell out we ought to get them, and if he tries to contact them we ought to get him.’

‘Do you think he was in with Miss Faintley, then, and his story about the other fellow who came out of the telephone box is all lies?’

‘No, I’m inclined to believe him, but it doesn’t hurt to keep an open mind. Anything doing at your end?’

‘Nothing at all, so far. We’ve established (to our own satisfaction, anyway) that the house on the cliffs outside which the body was found was not being lived in. One room seems to have been visited occasionally, but even that hasn’t got a bed in it, and there are no arrangements for cooking except a kitchen range which obviously hasn’t been used for years.’

‘Fingerprints?’

‘What do you think? And yet the place is thick with dust! No, we’re not looking for a cosh-boy or a jealous lover. I agree with you that we’re looking for a gang, and those parcels are at the root of the matter. I don’t suppose it would help much, but for the sake of curiosity I’d like to know whether Tomson is lying about the parcel he says was broken. Mandsell swears his was a flat one, and not heavy, so that doesn’t sound like counterfeit coins or diamonds. It could be counterfeit notes, though. We ought to go to Hagford Junction next to see the parcels clerk. If he’s been in the habit of handing parcels over to Miss Faintley it shouldn’t tax his memory too much to remember what they were like.’

‘Yes, we must check on that clerk.’ They motored at once to the station. Here they met with a slight check. The man was on leave, and nobody knew his holiday address. The railway station staff were positive, however, that he had gone away. He had shown them folders describing coach tours and had made it clear that he was going to book one for himself and his brother. The brother nobody had met. The name was Price.

Darling took down the address he was given and went to the house, but nobody answered his knock, and a neighbour came out and said that she had seen the brothers go off with suitcases. So that was that for a bit, thought Darling. He decided that it did not matter very much. When however, at the end of the following week he returned to the station without Vardon, who had gone back to Torbury, it was to learn that the Left Luggage clerk had not returned to duty at the appointed time, and that no explanation was forthcoming of his absence.

‘So it looks as though he might have been mixed up in it at least as much as Tomson is,’ Darling confided to Vardon when next they met. ‘I daresay he’s only one of the smaller fry… certainly nobody would trust Tomson very far!… but I’d like to have got my hooks on him, especially now I know he’s vamoosed.’

‘Stymie! The inquest’ll have to be resumed some time or other, but we can’t add any more evidence at present. Can you tackle the older Miss Faintley again, and see if she can cough up any more?’

‘I can try, but, although she’s a spiteful, dissatisfied old besom, I think she’s told us everything she knows.’

‘Yes, I was afraid perhaps she had.’

‘I’ll try her, anyway. In fact, I’m going to get a warrant and search the flat.’

‘She won’t like that, but it ought to be done. And you can’t get Tomson to squeal?’

‘I’ve a hunch he’s in the same boat as Miss Faintley was, and if it is a gang we’re after, they wouldn’t give a little rat like him very much to squeal about, or else not much time to do the squealing. Have to get a description of that Left Luggage clerk. He’ll have to be found, although I wouldn’t mind betting that his disappearance has nothing to do with the parcels or the murder.’

‘Pity petty cash was ever invented,’ said Vardon. ‘How would it be if we got two independent descriptions of the fellow, one from the station people and the other from Mandsell? Might act as a useful check on Mandsell, don’t you think?’

‘You mean that if Mandsell is concerned in the business (I don’t believe it, you know!) his description of the clerk is likely to be misleading? Right. Let’s try it. The station people first, of course. Then we can measure up what they say against anything Mandsell may tell us.’

The description of the missing man would fit a good many people, the two police officers decided. There was only one helpful point. He had been left-handed to such an extent that it amounted to a physical idiosyncrasy of a very definite kind. It seemed as though his right hand was almost useless. Even the heaviest parcels on his shelves he would attempt to take down.or put up using his left hand only. Otherwise, he was a brown-haired man of thirty-five or so, of medium height, slim without being noticeably thin, brown-eyed, with a mole on the right cheek-bone.

The officers checked this information with his landlady, who confirmed it, and said that when the brothers left their lodgings for their holiday, each had been wearing grey flannel trousers, a white open-neck shirt, Mr Tavy Price (the railway clerk) a green-fawn sports jacket, Mr Hugh Price a brown one. Their suitcases were of dark-brown fibre and had been labelled Mohawk Tours.

Mandsell’s description tallied exactly with that given by the station officials. Without being prompted, he even commented upon the extreme left-handedness of the luggage clerk.

‘It was almost like a deformity,’ he said, ‘but he seemed to manage all right.’

The two police officers had obtained from the landlady the address of the Price brothers’ doctor. He could offer no explanation of the awkward and noticeable left-handedness, but thought it was probably due to an obstinate reaction from having had to be right-handed at school. In spite of modern ideas upon the subject, he declared, some teachers were still wicked and misguided enough to try to force left-handed boys to use the right hand for writing and carpentry and so forth. He held forth upon the iniquity of this practice, added that there was nothing physically wrong with Price’s right hand and arm, and left the officers little the wiser.

‘I’d better get on to Mohawk Tours,’ said Darling. ‘Not that they’ll be able to help much. If they’d lost a cash customer en route they’d have reported it before this. Still, I must see them.’

‘Right. I must get back to Torbury. You’ll let me know anything useful?’

‘Of course, and that goes for you, too.’

The two detective-inspectors parted on terms of personal goodwill and official disappointment that the inquiry was not bearing much fruit, and Darling went straight to the local office which booked places on Mohawk Tours motor-coaches. As he walked along the High Street at Hagford, another point occurred to him. As Price was employed by the railway, he would be allowed some travel concessions. It seemed odd that he should forego these on his annual holiday. However, probably he merely wanted a change.

Mohawk Tours were helpful – almost too helpful, in fact. Two men named Price had indeed taken their tour, and had been very popular with the party. Darling, who could never have been accused of scamping his job, asked whether one of them had not been very noticeably left-handed.

‘I could not say, but the driver who took out that tour may be having his change-over day. I will ring up,’ said the agency clerk, who was curious to know what this was all about. The result of his inquiry was interesting. Both Prices had played cards with the driver, who was also the courier. Both were slick dealers. Both dealt right-handed and at lightning speed. He had never noticed either of them to be left-handed at table or elsewhere.

A description of the brothers, sought eagerly now by the Inspector, did not tally in the slightest with the description given by the landlady, the station staff, or Mandsell, all of whom had been in agreement.

‘So what’s happened to the Prices is anybody’s guess,’ said Darling on the telephone to Vardon. ‘We’re getting on their trail at once. Someone impersonated them on that trip, but whether it was a put-up job, or whether they’ve been kidnapped, it’s hard to say. Anything more from your end?’

‘Nothing yet, and Mrs Bradley and her secretary are coming your way, I think. The old lady, between ourselves, is as much at sea as the rest of us, I fancy. Still, we’ve got our orders to give her all the gen, so I’ll pass on what you’ve told me. What about the Faintley aunt and the search warrant?’

‘I haven’t applied for one yet. I may not need to. My own view is that Faintley was merely a stooge – someone obviously respectable, who could be trusted to pick up the parcels.’

‘What do you think they contained? – dynamite?’

‘Snow. That’s my guess up to date. Snow in the statues and instructions in the flat package collected by Mandsell.’

‘No wonder Tomson’s scared. I’ve been thinking along those lines myself, as a matter of fact, but would Tomson have invented anything so unlikely as ferns being hidden in the statues?’

‘No. It’s a code word, I expect. He hopes to diddle us with it, and, up to date, he’s succeeded. He’s monkey-clever, you know. We’ve had him on our books for years, and have never caught him out yet. I’m hoping he’s stubbed his toe this time, though.’