Detective Watters Mysteries

Chapter 2-1

“Forget the scuttling for a minute, Sergeant. Have you seen this?” Scuddamore nearly threw the poster onto Watters’ desk. “They’re all over the town.”

“What is it?” Watters unfolded the paper and read.

Fellow Irishmen!

Fellow Irishmen!Now’s the time, and now’s the hour!

Now’s the time, and now’s the hour!For too long, Ireland has struggled under British oppression. Now the Fenian Brotherhood has arrived to remove the colonial chains and free Ireland. We call upon all True Irishmen who love the Shamrock and the Green to gather in Dundee.

For too long, Ireland has struggled under British oppression. Now the Fenian Brotherhood has arrived to remove the colonial chains and free Ireland. We call upon all True Irishmen who love the Shamrock and the Green to gather in Dundee.Eirinn go Brách.

Eirinn go Brách.“What the devil?” Watters shook his head. “The last thing we want in Dundee is trouble between the Irish and the Scots.”

“I agree, sir,” Scuddamore said. “I thought we’d seen the last of these troublemakers, and here they are again.”

“I met some of these lads when I worked in London,” Watters said. “They are a formidable crew. Best look into it, Scuddamore, but don’t forget the scuttling case is our priority.”

Watters looked up as two uniformed constables approached them. One man was about thirty-five, tall, broad-shouldered, and erect. The second was smaller, slighter, and looked more nervous than Watters expected from a policeman.

“Here come the Johnny Raws,” Scuddamore said quietly, putting a sheet of blank paper on top of the poster.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Watters said as the two constables stopped six feet from his desk. “What do you want?”

The tall man acted as a spokesman. “Mr Mackay sent us, Sergeant. He said you have to assess us as possible detectives.”

Watters looked them over before speaking. “Do you have names, Constables?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” the taller man said. “I am Constable Richard Boyle, 236, and this is Constable Shaw, 239.”

“Well Constable Boyle 136, and Constable Shaw 239, here’s what I want you to do.” Watters pointed to the kettle that sat on the grate. “We need hot tea ready at all times, so that’s your first job. I am not getting you out of uniform until I see how good you are.”

Constable Shaw looked disappointed as Boyle checked the kettle and refilled it. Watters waited until Boyle placed the kettle on the grate.

“The second thing,” Watters said, “is to look at this document Detective Scuddamore has brought in.” He dragged the garish poster from under its folder.

Both prospective detectives read the poster. “It looks as if the Fenians are organising something in Dundee,” Shaw said helpfully.

“You’re right,” Watters encouraged. “What do you know about the Fenians?”

“They’re an organisation in Ireland and America,” Boyle said. “They want Ireland to be separate from Great Britain.”

Watters leaned back, aware that Scuddamore was listening to every word. “Where do you think we might find the Fenians?”

Shaw and Boyle looked at each other for inspiration.

“Ireland?” Shaw hazarded.

Watters hid his impatience. “Boyle said that. Where in Dundee might they be found?”

“Where the Irish have settled,” Boyle said.

“Which is?” Watters felt as if he were drawing teeth.

“Scouringburn, Lochee, and Hilltown,” Shaw said at once.

“Quite so,” Watters said. “Those are the areas in which I wish you to operate today and tomorrow. Do your normal duty shifts in uniform, then wear civilian clothes and tour these areas, listening for any signs of subversion or Fenianism.”

“Double shifts?” Shaw asked.

“Double shifts,” Watters replied, watching their reactions. He did not want any man who was shy of working long hours. “Now I’m sure Sergeant Murdoch has already allocated you a beat.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Boyle said.

“Then get on it,” Watters watched them walk away.

“That will keep them out of our way for a while,” Watters grunted, “and maybe they’ll find out something useful.”

“Maybe, Sergeant,” Scuddamore said, “but I doubt it.”

* * *

Red streaks between the early morning grey clouds promised a windy day to come. Watters hefted his golf bag, selected a club, and squinted along the fairway. “I was surprised to see you here, Mr Muirhead. I thought you were a member at the Balcumbie Club.”

Mr Muirhead smiled. “I would be, Mr Watters, but the Dundee Artisan allows me to tee off earlier. Besides, the rates are lower.” His clubs looked well-used, even shabby. “I am happy to find a partner so early on a January morning.”

“I grab a round whenever I can,” Watters squared off and swung, sending his ball soaring down the fairway. It bounced twice, then rolled to within a yard of the green.

“Nice drive,” Muirhead said. “I can just about make out the ball.” He squinted up to the sky. “It’s still too dark for accurate golf, but the course is quiet at least.”

“Any earlier, and we’d have to carry candles,” Watters said.

Muirhead swung mightily, with the ball soaring along the fairway, to land with an awkward bounce and finish in a patch of rough.

“Hard luck,” Watters sympathised. “You seem to be having a run of bad luck just now, losing Toiler as well.”

Toiler“Toiler?” Muirhead hefted his bag and began the trudge along the frost-hard fairway. “Yes, that was a strange one. It seems her bow plates just opened up, and she went down in fifteen minutes. We were fortunate that nobody was lost.”

Toiler“That’s always the prime concern,” Watters agreed. “Toiler was insured, wasn’t she?”

Toiler “Oh, yes,” Muirhead said. “All my vessels are insured.” He smiled again. “I’m fortunate that the insurance office is only a step from the company offices.”

“That will be the Dundee Maritime?” Watters asked, helping Muirhead find his ball in a tangle of rough grass and winter-brown bracken.

“Yes,” Muirhead sounded disinterested. “Where’s that damned ball? I know it landed here somewhere!”

“I believe that some shipowners have a second insurer as well,” Watters pointed his club to Muirhead’s ball.

“Yes,” Muirhead said, shaking his head. “My ball’s in a damned bad lie. It will be a devil of a job to get it near the green from here.”

“It’s a friendly game,” Watters said. “Kick it to a better lie. I won’t look.”

Muirhead frowned. “I don’t do that,” he said. “I’ll try from here.” He swung and shook his head when the ball travelled six inches and settled back in the rough. “Stand back, Mr Watters, and I’ll try again.”

Watters watched as Muirhead hacked at the ball, with every attempt moving it a few inches closer to the green. Eventually, the shipowner succeeded and finished with a beautiful putt that placed the ball in the hole.

“You won that one,” Muirhead said.

“I did, Mr Muirhead,” Watters agreed. “Did Toiler have a second insurer?”

Toiler “Toiler? No. Are you in the insurance business, Mr Watters? If so, I’m afraid you’re wasting your time. I’ve been with the Dundee Maritime a long time and am perfectly happy with them.”

Toiler“I’ve heard that the Scottish and English Mutual is equally good,” Watters said as they lined up for the next hole.

“It may well be,” Muirhead swung first, with his ball travelling two thirds down the fairway. “That’s a better drive.”

“Would you consider using the Mutual?” Watters swung, with his ball landing a hands-breadth from Muirhead’s.

“I’ve never heard of it,” Muirhead said. “Are you here to play golf or to sell me ship insurance, Mr Watters?”

“I’m not an insurance salesman, Mr Muirhead,” Watters said, as they strolled up the fairway with their feet making slight indentations on the grass. “I’m a policeman. Sergeant George Watters of the Dundee Police.”

Muirhead looked sideways at Watters as he lined up his next shot. “Are you, indeed? Are you investigating me, Sergeant Watters?”

“I am investigating the loss of Toiler,” Watters said.

Toiler,“Why is that?” Muirhead drove the ball onto the green, watching it bounce and roll back to the edge of the fairway.

“Toiler was insured with two different companies, to a value far in excess of her worth, and sank in calm seas.” Watters placed his ball a little behind Muirhead’s.

Toiler “I think you are mistaken, Sergeant,” Muirhead said. “I only ever insure with Dundee Maritime and never above the value of my vessels.” He chipped his ball beside the hole. “There, that’s better. No, Sergeant Watters, I don’t believe in wasting money on excess insurance premiums, and I’d never risk the lives of my men by deliberately sinking a ship.”

“Nice shot, Mr Muirhead. I am afraid Toiler was insured with two different companies, sir. Dundee Maritime and the Scottish and English Mutual. I will bring the documentation to your office later today, and we can discuss matters further there.”

Toiler“That would be best,” Muirhead gave Watters a stern look. “Then I can show you that you’re talking nonsense. Shall we say eleven o’clock?”

“Eleven o’clock it is,” Watters watched Muirhead sink his shot, then followed suit. “A tied hole, I believe.”

Muirhead glanced at the sky. “The weather’s breaking,” he said. “I shall have to get to work, Sergeant Watters. Eleven o’clock, then.”

Watters watched Muirhead walk away, a man in his late thirties with a snap to his step.

* * *

“Golfing, Sergeant?” Duff asked as Watters placed his clubs in the corner of the room.

“Golfing with Mr Muirhead,” Watters said, pouring himself a mug of tea. “I’m meeting him at eleven in his office.”

“Are you going to arrest him, Sergeant?”

“If I think he’s guilty, I will,” Watters said. “At the minute, I am unsure. There are too many imponderables in the case. Anyway, golfers who lose rather than cheat are unlikely to fiddle their insurance companies.”

“Is that why you played golf with him?” Duff asked.

“You can find out a lot about a man’s character on the golf course,” Watters said.

“What am I doing today?” Duff pushed his pile of paperwork away in a gesture of contempt.

“You’re on pawnshop patrol,” Watters tasted his tea, pulled a face, and added another half-teaspoon of tealeaves. “Weak tea is suitable for children and old women,” he said. “If the brew doesn’t stain the spoon, it’s no good to anybody.”

“Yes, Sergeant. Do you want me to do your normal pawnshops as well as my own?”

“Well volunteered. It’s time you learned the Dock Street area.” Watters handed over a closely printed sheet of paper. “This is a list of property stolen in Dundee over the past week. You know the drill. If you find anything, arrest the pawnshop managers, and bring them in, together with the items. Theft is a bigger threat than violence and more prevalent than scuttling. Boyle and Shaw here will help you,” he said as the two prospective detectives walked over.