Detective Watters Mysteries

Chapter 4-2

“And I’ll help you, Jim,” Watters said cheerfully. “No more following young women or looking through windows in Couttie’s Wynd, then?”

“No, Mr Watters. I don’t do that sort of thing anymore.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Watters fondled the horse’s muzzle. “Maybe a smart lad like you can help me, Jim.”

“Maybe I can, Mr Watters, but I don’t know much now. I just work and go home.”

“Maybe, maybe not, and maybe you still listen at open windows and hover outside doorways to hear what people are doing.” Watters took a practice swipe with his cane, watched an imaginary golf ball soar into the distance and returned his attention to Jim. “The jewel robbery at Sinclair’s,” he said. “What do you know about it?”

“That wasn’t me, Mr Watters,” Jim said at once. “I don’t do jewel robberies. That was a cracksman and a local lad that done that.”

A local lad. Thank you, Jim.

A local lad. Thank you, Jim.“Now, Jim, I did not accuse you,” Watters took another practise swing. “That was a better shot, don’t you think, Jim? Did you see how far the ball travelled?”

“Yes, Mr Watters. It was a good shot,” Jim said, continuing to brush the horse.

“A cracksman and a local lad, you say? What else do you know, oh, man who no longer listens at doors and windows?”

“Nothing, Mr Watters, I don’t know nothing.”

“Ah, that’s a pity,” Watters said. “You don’t know about the robberies that pair plan next, then.” He cast the idea out, hoping to catch some information.

“Not much, Mr Watters.”

“Do you know what I heard?” Watters said. “I heard that you were back to your old games, Jim. I heard you were outside Ma Ramsay’s brothel in Couttie’s Wynd, staring in the windows.”

“I never,” Jim said, nearly dropping his brush. “I was just passing by. I never looked in.”

“I heard that you played the Peeping Tom, Jim. What would happen if Ma Ramsay found it was you?” Watters allowed the idea to play in Jim’s head for a minute. “She would send her bullies after you, Jim, and they would hand you to the girls.” Watters shook his head. “I hate to think what they would do.”

“I never saw much,” Jim said. “Just a little bit.”

“Of course, Ma Ramsay doesn’t need to know,” Watters said. “If I hear more about the jewellery robbery, I’d forget all about the Peeping Tom story.”

“It was a local lad and a cracksman, Mr Watters. I know that, and there was a police officer involved. They looked at the house above first and then came back during the night and broke through the ceiling.”

“You know more, Jim,” Watters tapped the weighted end of his cane in the palm of his left hand.

“The policeman was a sergeant or a Lieutenant,” Jim said. “He told the cracksman what to do.”

“He was in charge?” Watters asked.

“Yes, Mr Watters. The cracksman was scared of him.”

“Do you have any names?”

Jim shook his head. “No, Mr Watters, honest, I don’t.”

“I believe you,” Watters pressed a shilling into Jim’s hand. “Thank you, Jim, and I’m glad you’ve got yourself a steady job.”

Jim looked at the shilling. “Thank you, Mr Watters,” he said.

Watters looked around when a burly, heavily whiskered man emerged from the stables.

“Now, what’s all this, Jim? You’re meant to be working, not talking to every waif and stray that passes by!”

“Jim’s doing a good job,” Watters said. “He’s not stopped working for an instant, and he was telling me how efficient your stables were.”

“And who are you to judge?” the burly man asked.

“Sergeant George Watters, Dundee Police,” Watters said. “We’re always looking for a decent stable if our grooms are too busy.”

The burly man touched his hat. “Oh, well, we provide a first-class service.”

“So Jim was telling me,” Watters said and strolled away, swinging his cane.

Three men then. One a returned ticket-of-leave cracksman, one a policeman who might be a sergeant or above, and the other a local thief. Watters pondered the unlikely trio. He would ask the prostitutes next, for the girls often picked up fragments of information from their clients.

Three men then. One a returned ticket-of-leave cracksman, one a policeman who might be a sergeant or above, and the other a local thief.* * *

Watters knew Ma Ramsay of old and entered her brothel without a qualm. He heard the noise of raised voices from upstairs, sighed, and mounted the steps. Why was nothing simple?

“What’s going on here?” Watters cracked his cane against the wall. Ma Ramsay was trying to subdue an energetic young man who was shouting and gesticulating to a woman with a shock of black hair.

The man ignored Watters and grabbed hold of the woman by the throat.

“None of that!” Watters slashed the man’s arm with his cane. “Leave that woman alone!”

The man started and stared at Watters. “It’s none of your b****y business!”

“Dundee Police,” Watters said quietly. “Stand back from that woman.”

When the man blustered, Watters pushed him aside and pressed the end of his cane into the vee of his throat. “I said back off.”

“He’s refusing to pay, Sergeant Watters,” the black-headed woman said.

“Pay the lady what you owe,” Watters pushed his cane harder, “or I’ll charge you with assaulting a lady, theft, and creating a disturbance in a private house.”

“She’s no lady! She’s a common hoor!”

Watters slashed with his cane again. “Every lady deserves respect, you dirty-mouthed vagabond! Pay what you owe her and get out!” He reversed the cane and pressed the lead-weighted end against the man’s forehead.

The man began to bluster again, saw the expression in Watters’ eyes, and reluctantly extracted a handful of copper and silver coins from his pocket. “How much?”

Ma Ramsay selected a few coins, passed one to the black-haired woman, stuffed two inside her voluminous top and nodded. “Thank you, Mister. Now bugger off and don’t come back.”

The instant Watters relaxed his cane, the man swung his fist at the black-haired woman. Expecting that reaction, Watters blocked the punch and followed through, knocking the man backwards against the wall. As Ma Ramsay reached for her girl, the man lunged again, mouthing obscenities at the black-haired woman, and Watters lashed his arm with the weighted end of his cane.

“You’re under arrest, cully! You’re not treating a lady like that!”

“No!” Ma Ramsay shook her head. “Don’t arrest him, Sergeant. I run a respectable establishment, and I can’t have my customers leaving in handcuffs. It’s bad for business.”

Watters raised his eyebrows. He had expected that such events were an occupational hazard for any establishment in Couttie’s Wynd. However, as he was about to ask Ma Ramsay a favour, he decided to agree.

“As you wish, Ma.” He leaned closer to the angry man. “What’s your name?”

“Herbert Balfour,” the man said.

“Well, Herbert Balfour, apologise to the lady.”

“Lady!” Balfour sneered until Watters cracked the lead-weighted end of his cane against his left knee.

“Apologise to the lady, Balfour,” Watters said.

Balfour mumbled an apology, glaring daggers at Watters.

“Again, and louder,” Watters ordered, raising his cane, and Balfour complied.

“I’m very sorry, Meg!”

“Now leave.”

As Balfour turned away, Ma Ramsay delivered a hefty kick to his backside. “And don’t come back!” she said.

“Thank you, Sergeant Watters,” the black-haired woman said. “Nobody’s ever called me a lady before.”

“No? Well, you are a lady, Meg. I remember you from a previous case when you were helpful to me.”

Meg glanced at Ma Ramsay as if seeking permission to speak.

Watters forced a smile. “If that fellow Balfour causes more trouble, let me know. Don’t you usually have a trio of porters here to deal with men like him?”

“I had to get rid of them, and I’m looking for replacements,” Ma Ramsay said. “What are you here for, Sergeant? And it’s not for the good of our health.”

Watters explained his purpose.

“I heard about the robbery,” Ma Ramsay said. “Two men done it, one a cracksman and another who watched him.”

“Watched him? Was the second man an apprentice?” Watters asked.

“No,” Meg shook her head, so her black hair covered her face. “He was making sure the cracksman never kept anything for himself. I heard they worked for a third man, who had a hold on the cracksman. They were feared of him.”

“Thank you,” Watters stored that information away.

“If we hear anything else, we’ll let you know,” Ma Ramsay said. “

Hairy Meg lifted a hand as Watters left and mouthed ‘thank you” again.

If I’ve done nothing else today, Watters thought, at least I’ve helped one young woman gain some self-respect.

If I’ve done nothing else today,at least I’ve helped one young woman gain some self-respect.