Detective Watters Mysteries

Chapter 5

Lieutenant Anstruther stood inside the door of the Bell Street Police Office, watching as Watters returned from his questioning. “You look like a man who failed,” Anstruther said. “What’s on your mind, Watters?”

“That’s Sergeant Watters, sir,” Watters said, “and I haven’t failed.”

“Oh? You were investigating the jewel robbery, weren’t you?” Anstruther stepped forward.

“That’s correct, sir,” Watters said.

“What have you discovered so far, if anything?”

Watters paused before he replied. “My informants have told me there are three people involved, sir. They think one is a professional cracksman, a returned ticket-of-leave man, but the others they don’t know.”

Anstruther gave a small smile. “I could have told you the thief was a professional, Watters.”

“Yes, sir, I am sure you could.”

“What the devil do you mean by that, Watters?” Anstruther leaned over Watters, then moved away before Watters held his gaze.

“I mean, you have experience in such matters, sir,” Watters said. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must continue.”

Why did I not tell Anstruther about the possible police involvement? Was it because I don’t like the man? Or was it something else?

Why did I not tell Anstruther about the possible police involvement? Was it because I don’t like the man? Or was it something else?Duff and Scuddamore were waiting in the office, both trying to ignore the growing pile of paperwork.

“Did you find anything in the pawns?” Watters asked.

“We didn’t find any of the stolen jewellery,” Scuddamore took the role of spokesman. “The pawns knew all about the Sinclair robbery and said nobody had approached them that morning.”

“The thieves are aware we’d check the pawnshops,” Watters said. “I’ve sent Sinclair’s list all around Scotland and some cities in England, so we’ll see if that produces any results.” He mustered a smile. “You know these things take time, lads. Keep trying, keep pushing, and something will happen. Even the smartest of cracksmen makes a mistake.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Scuddamore said. “Duff and I put our heads together and compiled a list of any cracksmen with the skill to carry out these thefts.”

Watters nodded. “He’d have to be able to scale walls and break into houses, hotels and jewellery shops as well as c***k safes. That’s a rare selection of skills.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Scuddamore said. “We narrowed the list to eight, and some of them are already jailed or dead.”

“Eight is more than I expected,” Watters said. “I’m listening.”

Scuddamore lifted a sheet of paper from his desk. “We have Arthur Cobb and Walter Abernethy. Owen Williams and Peter Hayes. Then there is John McLeish, Martin Lightfoot, Charlie Peace, and Nathan Johnston.” Scuddamore looked up. “There might be more, Sergeant, but we can’t think of them.”

“Eight is quite enough to be going on with,” Watters said. “Let’s take these fellows one at a time. What do we know about Arthur Cobb?”

“He’s a Londoner, Sergeant, never been known to leave the London area,” Scuddamore said at once.

“It’s doubtful he’d come up here then. We offer poor pickings compared to London.” Watters said. “I think a major haul might tempt him, but not a few hundred guineas from Sinclair’s jewellers shop.”

“Lightfoot?” Watters asked.

Scuddamore grunted. “Went down for a seven stretch last year, but men such as him may break out.”

They examined the list, with one or other of the detectives displaying their knowledge of the criminal fraternity as they discounted each man.

“That leaves Peter Hayes and Walter Abernethy,” Watters said.

“We can discount Abernethy,” Duff said. “He was transported for fourteen years some time ago. And Hayes is dead.”

“Wait,” Watters held up a hand. “You say Abernethy was transported?”

“He got fourteen years,” Duff said.

“My informants told me the cracksman was a ticket of leave man. A Demonian returned before his time.”

“That might be him, then,” Scuddamore said. “Did Abernethy have any Dundee connections?”

“Find out,” Watters ordered and snapped his fingers. “Abernethy, by God! Remember the biscuit crumbs on the floor? I’d bet a farthing to your pension, Scuddamore, that they came from an Abernethy biscuit.”

“The cheeky rascal!” Scuddamore said with a hint of respect.

“Do you think he’s telling us who he is?” Duff asked.

“Yes,” Watters said. “Some of these cracksmen are proud of their housebreaking skills. Maybe Abernethy is one such.” He became aware of Lieutenant Anstruther standing two desks away. “Can we help you, sir?”

“What’s that you’re discussing, Watters?”

“That’s Sergeant Watters, sir, and we’re discussing who the cracksman might be.”

“He could be anybody, Sergeant. You’d be better trying to catch him rather than playing guessing games with names.”

“We’ll do both, sir,” Watters promised. “Have you made any progress with your investigation? Did you think anything more about the biscuit crumbs you found?”

“Biscuit crumbs?” Anstruther turned sideways to view Watters through his right eye. “No, Sergeant. The crumbs were not relevant.”

“I see, sir,” Watters nodded.

“Lieutenant Anstruther,” Scuddamore said when Anstruther withdrew to his private office on the floor above. “What was the false name of the Lieutenant who scouted the house above Sinclair’s?”

“Kinghorn,” Duff said. “Anstruther and Kinghorn are both towns on the south coast of Fife. Somebody else seems to be playing guessing games with names.”

Watters shook his head. “Anstruther is not my favourite person either, boys, but he’s not stupid enough to say he’s a police Lieutenant when he visits a place he intends to burgle. I doubt that Anstruther’s our man. I’d wager your pension again, Scuddamore, that our supposed Lieutenant is no policeman.”

“Maybe somebody who could not come up to scratch in the force, Sergeant?” Duff hazarded. “Or an officer with a grudge.” He looked around the duty room as if assessing every man present.

“That could be. In the meantime, see what we can come up with on Abernethy. I have to visit Mr Mackay.” Watters stood up. “There’ll be overtime tonight, lads, so don’t expect to get much sleep.” He glanced around the room. “And we’ll keep this to ourselves. Don’t let the word spread.”

“You mean Lieutenant Anstruther?”

“I mean, we don’t know if there’s a police officer involved,” Watters said, “and I don’t think there is, but we’ll just go canny until we’re sure.”

* * *

Mr Mackay pressed his fingers together as he listened to Watters. “Walter Abernethy, you say.” He nodded slowly. “I remember him. He was transported a few years back.”

“Yes, sir.”

“He was a professional thief,” Mackay said. “We don’t want that type roving around Dundee. I’ll call a meeting and spread the word.”

“We could set a trap for this fellow,” Watters suggested. “Create a target so tempting than no self-respecting cracksman could ignore it and wait for him there.”

Mackay mused for only a moment. “All right. I’ll tell the men what’s happening, and you catch this Abernethy fellow if it’s him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you have anything else for me, Sergeant?”

Watters hesitated. He did not like to withhold information from Mackay, a man he both trusted and respected, but he preferred to wait until he had more definite intelligence.

“We’ve nothing concrete, sir. My preachers, my informants, tell me that there were two or maybe three men involved.”

Mackay’s fingers tapped their devil’s dance on the desk. “That’s a start, Sergeant. You have numbers and a name. Dismissed.”

Scuddamore and Duff listened as Watters outlined his idea. “Now spread the news,” Watters said. “Not overtly, of course. Just a whisper here and there, a few hints to raise interest, and tickle Abernethy’s fancy.”

“Will Abernethy bite?” Scuddamore asked.

“I hope so,” Watters said. “Either Abernethy or the man who seems to control him. If we catch one, we should catch them both.”

“What about the scuttling case?” Duff asked.

“That will have to wait,” Watters replied. “I don’t think we’re finished with it yet, but Mr Mackay is more concerned with the cracksman.”

“What’s the plan, Sergeant?” Constables Boyle and Shaw hurried across the duty room, still eager despite the lines of tiredness that scored their faces.

“It’s straightforward. We spread the word that the bank is delivering a month’s advance of wages for the Waverley whaling ships, and we wait in his shipping office in Dock Street.”

“Old Man Gilbride’s Waverley ships? Muirhead’s main whaling rival?” Boyle proved he was knowledgeable about current affairs in Dundee.

Watters smiled. “The very fellow! What better way of seeing if Muirhead is involved in the thefts than invite him to steal from his business rival?”

“You’re a cunning man, Sergeant,” Scuddamore said.

More devious than you realise, Scuddamore. If Abernethy falls for this, then we don’t have a police officer involved. If he refuses the bait, then I will be more worried.

More devious than you realise, Scuddamore. If Abernethy falls for this, then we don’thave a police officer involved. If he refuses the bait, then I will be more worried.“One thing, boys,” Watters said, “there were some men in Betty’s Welcome, and they wondered who had stolen the donkey. They spoke to each other but wanted me to hear. Any ideas?”

Duff shrugged, while Scuddamore nodded.

“Aye, Sergeant, it’s a joke against the police. I think it was in London that somebody stole a donkey, and the police failed to solve the case.”

Watters nodded. “I see.”

“There is an answer, Sergeant,” Scuddamore said. “You say the man in the white hat because hatters use donkey skins to make white hats.”

“Thank you, Scuddamore. You are a constant fund of information.”

* * *

Dundee was quiet at two in the morning, with most public houses having long spilt their rowdy customers into the streets. Only a few men strode to their work or walked wearily home while the night-duty policemen watched for thieves. Watters entered the Bell Street Office and nodded to the sergeant on duty.

“Evening, Ruxton.”

“You’re working late, Watters.”

“I’ve just a few odds and ends to tidy up while it’s quiet.” Watters signed himself in. “Is anybody else in?”

“Only me, a turnkey and a couple of constables.”

Watters nodded and hurried upstairs to the duty room. The place was deserted and dark until Watters lit the gas and allowed the light to ease over the room. Watters thought there was something desolate about a near-empty room that was usually full of uniformed men.

After a few moments, Watters left the duty room and slipped quietly to the upper floors, where Mr Mackay and the lieutenants had their offices. He tried the handle of Lieutenant Anstruther’s door, but the door remained fast.

Why lock your door within the police headquarters? What are you hiding, Lieutenant Anstruther? Watters had come prepared with his packet of lock-picks, so he knelt at the door and opened it within thirty seconds.

Why lock your door within the police headquarters?What are you hiding, Lieutenant Anstruther? Closing the door, Watters lit the gas and kept the flame low, providing only a minimum of light. Anstruther’s office was less than half the size of Mackay’s, with a desk, two chairs, a stand-up mirror, and a bookcase filled with documents, books, and files. Watters moved straight to the desk, picked each lock, and opened the drawers one by one. He had no clear idea of his objective but wanted to either clear Anstruther of his suspicions or find something incriminating.

The top drawer held only stationary, pens and ink. The second contained a small revolver and ammunition, while the third was empty except for a leather-covered wooden box. Watters opened it carefully and stepped back when a pair of human eyes glared back at him.

“What the devil?”

Watters lifted the artificial eye carefully between his finger and thumb. It was beautifully made, coloured like a human eye and heavier than he expected.

“I didn’t know you only had one eye, Lieutenant,” Watters said. He shrugged. That would explain why Lieutenant Anstruther always kept his distance. It was not guilt but embarrassment over his glass eye.

Closing the drawer, Watters saw Anstruther’s spare uniform hanging beside the mirror. He stepped across and, on a whim, lifted the coat. The trousers and jacket were beneath, with a pair of braces hanging down. Watters lifted them and grunted when he saw a brass buckle in place of the steel buckle that was regulation issue.

Watters left the room and returned to his desk downstairs.