Detective Watters Mysteries

Chapter 6

Patrolling the pawnshops was the most tedious part of a detective’s duties, Watters thought, as he walked his allocated area around the maritime quarter, searching the pawns for stolen items from his list.

Watters’ first call was at Mrs Flannery’s, a small pawn off Dock Street itself. He knew Mrs Flannery as an honest woman, so he did not waste much time.

“Have you seen the latest list, Mrs Flannery?”

“I’ve only glanced at it, Sergeant Watters,” Mrs Flannery said. “I don’t welcome the criminal fraternity into my shop, and they know I’d report anything stolen.”

“You’re a good woman, Mrs Flannery,” Watters lifted his hat as he left.

Watters’ fourth call was at the Dundee Exchange Emporium, a much grander establishment with three polished brass balls hanging above the door and recently washed plate glass windows.

“You’re back then, Sergeant?” The owner leaned over the counter, seeming quite relaxed in Watters’ presence.

“I’m back,” Watters scanned the shop, fully aware that the owner was too canny to have any suspicious goods on display. “Anything for me today, Wullie?”

“Not today, Sergeant.”

“Nothing you’re willing to admit to, anyway,” Watters said.

“I’m an honest man, Sergeant Watters!” Wullie spread his arms to prove his honesty.

Watters nodded. “Of course you are. Not like this professional cracksman causing all sorts of mayhem in Dundee.”

Wullie, short, fat and with thick glasses, nodded. “I heard about him, Sergeant. We don’t want his sort in town.”

“No, we don’t,” Watters agreed. “How much do you know about him?”

Wullie assumed an air of complete innocence. “Not much, Sergeant. I heard he was here, that’s all. He won’t come into my establishment; everybody knows I never accept stolen goods!”

“You’re one of the most honest pawnbrokers in the city,” Watters said solemnly.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Wullie adjusted his glasses.

Watters nodded. “It’s been months since I last found stolen property in here,” he said, “and I know you’d tell me if anybody handed any in.”

“I would,” Wullie said.

Watters glanced over his shoulder as if nervous he may be overheard. “If you hear anything about this cracksman, let me know, will you? Especially now.”

“Especially now?” Wullie leaned over his counter, seeking intelligence to pass on to his less reputable customers.

“Mr Gilbride of the Waverly Company is a bit concerned,” Watters said and nodded. He did not need to say more.

“Ah,” Wullie tried to look intelligent. “I see. Mr Gilbride.”

Lifting his cane in acknowledgement, Watters left the pawnshop. He had planted the first seed. Now Wullie would spread it to the petty thieves who frequented his shop, and the news would spread up the tree to the upper branches of the criminal classes.

Swinging his cane at imaginary golf balls, Watters continued his patrol.

“Jim!” Watters hailed the furtive youth who tried to hide in a shop doorway.

“I wasn’t doing anything, Mr Watters,” Jim said immediately.

“I didn’t think you were,” Watters tapped Jim’s leg with his cane. “How is your job doing, Jim?”

“I lost it, Mr Watters,” Jim looked at the ground.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Jim. Why was that?”

“It was because I’ve no home, Mr Watters. I sleep in penny-a-night lodging houses, and Mr Arthur said he wanted somebody more respectable.”

Watters frowned. Life was unfair to youths such as Jim. “I need a favour from you, James.”

“A favour, Mr Watters?” Jim’s eyes narrowed in avarice.

“Indeed. Have you heard any more about this cracksman in Dundee?”

“No, Mr Watters,” Jim shook his head, causing his dark hair to flop around his head. “I would tell you if I had.”

“Of course you would, James. You and I are chums.”

“Yes, Mr Watters,” Jim said. “We’re chums.”

Watters lowered his voice. “Between you and me, Jim, there’s a strongbox full of advance wages in Dundee, and I’m a bit concerned that this mysterious cracksman will go after it.”

“Wages, Mr Watters?”

“Yes indeed,” Watters swished his cane again. “Some hundreds of pounds, I believe.”

“Where are they, Mr Watters?”

“I can’t tell you that, Jim,” Watters said. “I can’t tell anybody; I’ve already said more than I should.”

Jim nodded. “Yes, Mr Watters. I understand.”

Watters pressed a shilling into Jim’s grubby hand. “Remember, if you hear anything, let me know right away.”

“I will, Mr Watters,” Jim said. “I won’t let you down.”

Watters walked on. He knew that Jim would sell his information in the Baltic Bar or Betty’s Welcome to whoever was interested, and it would filter around Dundee.

“That’s the ground prepared,” Watters said to his men as they met in the duty room. “Within a couple of hours, all Dundee’s criminals will know that Mr Gilbride is anxious and that somebody is hoarding advance wages. They’ll put two and two together, and Mr Gilbride can expect a nocturnal visitor.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

Watters sipped at his tea. “Now that we’ve told Abernethy what to steal, we must ensure the beat police are not too watchful.” He raised a hand as Sergeant Murdoch entered the room. “Murdoch! Where will I find Boyle and Shaw?”

“Dudhope Street, Constitution Road and that area,” Murdoch glanced at his watch. “If they’re following the correct procedure, they should be in Dudhope Terrace in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you, Murdoch; I’ll find them later,” Watters said. “These two want to be detectives, so we’ll use them, boys.”

* * *

Mr Gilbride ran his Waverly Whale Fishing Company from offices in East Whale Lane. Watters led his detectives to the office, spoke to a somewhat confused office clerk and then mounted the stairs to Gilbride’s small but immaculate office on the upper floor.

Gilbride was an elderly man with silver hair and bushy side-whiskers on either side of sunken cheeks. He had a reputation for being a shrewd businessman.

“Which room will you allow us to use, Mr Gilbride?”

“One on the ground floor,” Gilbride said. “We call it the spare room, and the sooner this fellow is caught, the safer we will all feel.” He stood up, lifted his narwhal tusk walking stick, and pointed to the door. “Come along, gentlemen.”

Watters inspected the spare room, small, with a barred window and a single entrance; it was suitable for storing cash. “Do you have a safe, Mr Gilbride?”

“I have two, Sergeant. A large, complex one in the basement strong room, and a small office safe.”

“Empty the contents of the office safe into the larger one, if you please, Mr Gilbride, and bring the office safe in here. Allow your staff to see it enter the room and make a fuss about its security.”

“As you wish, Sergeant Watters.”

“Thank you, Mr Gilbride. The Dundee Police appreciate your co-operation.”

Gilbride’s barked orders brought a group of workmen with a sturdy hand barrow. Watters and Duff helped manoeuvre the square, steel safe from Gilbride’s office to the spare room.

“Tuck it against the back wall,” Gilbride said and ensured it was empty. “Thank you, men,” Gilbride said.

Watters waited until the workmen had left the room. “May I have another moment of your time, Mr Gilbride?”

“Of course, Sergeant.”

“You must know Mr Muirhead well,” Watters said.

“I have known him these past fifteen years and more,” Gilbride said.

“Could you tell me your opinion of him, sir?”

Gilbride looked irritated for a second. “I don’t like to discuss such things, Sergeant. It’s impolite to talk about a fellow behind his back.”

“Would you say Mr Muirhead is an honest man?” Watters ignored the implied complaint.

“I have never found him less than honest,” Gilbride said.

“And fair in his business dealings?”

“Scrupulously fair,” Gilbride agreed.

“That agrees with my impression of the man,” Watters said. “I think he is a hard businessman but honest.”

Gilbride nodded. “Business is a hard world,” he said. “The weak go under, and the men who depend on a weak manager for jobs will find themselves unemployed.”

Watters smiled faintly at the neat way Gilbride had justified his business methods. “Would that apply to Mr Muirhead as well?”

“Mr Muirhead will do whatever he needs to gain financial success,” Gilbride said, “as would any good man of business. He will not lie or cheat, but nor will he hesitate to take any advantage within the law.”

Watters nodded. He was gradually building up a picture of Muirhead. “Thank you again, Mr Gilbride. Now we’ll get you some attention and try to entice our cracksman friend to our trap. Come into my parlour, said the spider.”

Watters had arranged for Eddie the Cabbie to bring his cab to the front of Gilbride’s office. He stood beside the cab, with his detectives at his side.

“You remain here, Duff, and look inconspicuous. Scuddamore and I will bring in the wages.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Duff said, grinning. He was probably the shortest policeman in Dundee and the broadest across the shoulders. He leaned against the entrance to Mr Gilbride’s office, produced a pipe and lit up.

“Tayside Bank,” Watters ordered Eddie and sat back. Without moving his head, he saw the group of loungers watching from the corner of the lane.

“We’re being watched, Scuddamore,” he said.

“Four of them, Sergeant,” Scuddamore had given no indication of seeing anything. “Including Rab McGavin and Andy Taylor, Lochee weavers and part-time bullies.”

“Good man, Scuddamore,” Watters said. “They don’t have the brainpower to be cracksmen, so somebody has sent them to watch old man Gilbride’s establishment.” He grinned. “We’re making an impact.”

Eddie drove them to the bank, where MacBride welcomed them in with a hearty handshake.

“Who are you setting up, gentlemen?” MacBride asked.

“A man who would rob you blind, sir,” Watters said. “Please ensure your bank is safe this season. Take every precaution you can and then double them. This fellow has robbed jeweller’s shops and hotels across the town.”

“I will,” the manager said. “I have warned my staff.”

Watters and Scuddamore left the bank carrying a heavy strongbox, complete with a padlock, which they hefted into Eddie’s cab.

“Who’s watching us this time?” Watters murmured.

“Wee Owan MacMillan,” Scuddamore said. “He’s standing in the doorway of a close, smoking a clay pipe.”

“He’s a friend of Thiefy Campbell,” Watters said. “I caught MacMillan breaking into a house last year, and the judge gave him six months. The criminal fraternity is aware of everything we do.”

“I’d like to round the lot up and throw them in jail,” Scuddamore said. “We know who they are; we could halve the crime in Dundee in one night.”

Watters grunted. “A lot of people would agree with you, Scuddamore, but we need evidence of a specific crime before we arrest anybody.”

“We’re too soft with them,” Scuddamore glanced out of the window. “MacMillan is following us.”

“That’s not surprising.”

Duff was where they had left him, still smoking as Eddie drew up outside the office.

“We’ll need your muscles, Duff,” Watters called. “The box isn’t too heavy, but you look sufficiently formidable to frighten the Cossacks, let alone a Scottish cracksman.”

McGavin and Taylor watched with interest as Scuddamore and Duff carried the strongbox into the building.

“I rather hoped they would try and wrestle it from us,” Scuddamore said.

“Not with Duff here,” Watters replied. “McGavin and Taylor are fine at hustling drunkards out of pubs and brothels, but that’s their limit.”

Mr Gilbride ushered them into the spare room, where the safe lay open. “In here, gentlemen.”

Duff and Scuddamore laid the strongbox on the floor. “It will fit into the safe as it stands,” Watters said. “Extra security.” He grinned.

“What’s inside?” Gilbride asked. “Nothing too valuable, I hope?”

“House bricks,” Watters said. “If the cracksman manages to steal it, he’ll get a horrible surprise.”

“What now?” Scuddamore asked as they left the building.

“Now, we put two uniformed police on watch outside,” Watters said, “and we observe from a distance.”

“The uniforms will warn the cracksman off,” Duff pointed out. “He won’t try anything with a couple of constables there.”

“The constables I have in mind won’t be any threat,” Watters said with a smile. “Our very own Boyle and Shaw.”

“I thought Boyle was fairly intelligent,” Scuddamore looked confused.

“He is sufficiently intelligent to act stupid,” Watters said. “I have instructed them both what to do and provided an excuse to distract them from their duty.”

“What’s that, Sergeant?” Scuddamore asked as Duff laughed.

“You’ll see,” Duff said.

Sending Eddie away with instructions to come to Bell Street in two hours, Watters led his men towards the Police Office, fully aware that half the criminals in Dundee would be watching him. Reminding Boyle and Shaw of their roles, he sent them to Gilbride’s office.

“Now what?”

“Now we catch a cab,” Watters said, “and keep the curtains drawn.”