Detective Watters Mysteries

Chapter 8-1

Duff had the other two thieves handcuffed together and sitting on the floor when Watters brought in Scuddamore’s prisoners.

“Here we are then,” Scuddamore said. “Such a cosy gathering!” He looked around the room. “What a collection of rogues in the nation and not a smile between the lot of them.” He lowered his voice. “That cracksman is not Abernethy, Sergeant. He’s too young.”

Watters nodded. “I was thinking the same thing, Scuddamore. And where is the tall policeman? We have a lot of questions to ask these fellows.”

With three police and four criminals crowded into the room, Watters felt it was more like a prison cell than a house. “You people will wonder what you stole,” he said to the scowling prisoners. “Look.” Producing the keys, he opened the strongbox and showed the contents. “Well done, boys. You’re going to jail for four house bricks.”

“And all the other robberies,” Scuddamore reminded.

“Oh, yes, them too. Sinclair’s the Jewellers and all the rest.”

“I never did that,” the cracksman spoke for the first time. Thin and slight, he had the prison pallor on his face.

“We’ll discuss that at Bell Street,” Watters said.

McGavin spat on the floor.

“That’s the way,” Scuddamore said, lifting him by the handcuffs. “On you come, my foul fellow.”

Mr Mackay was already in his office when Watters brought in the prisoners. “Well, Watters,” he emerged, grimly happy. “You caught them, then.”

“We did, sir,” Watters agreed. “One cracksman and three petty thieves.” And not one of them that looks anything like a policeman.

And not one of them that looks anything like a policeman.Mackay cast his cold eye across the prisoners. “Three criminals by habit and repute and one face I don’t recognise. Is that Abernethy?”

“No, sir,” Scuddamore replied at once. “Abernethy will be older. I don’t know this fellow.”

“What’s your name, my friend?” Mackay asked. “We’ll find out anyway, so you may as well tell me.”

“Abraham Hogg,” the cracksman said at once. He straightened his back. “You can’t pin the other thefts on me, sir, because I didn’t do them.”

“We’ll see about that,” Scuddamore said. “Come on, my beauty, and we’ll take you to the interview room.”

“No rough stuff,” Mackay warned.

“No, sir,” Watters said. “We’ll be as gentle as a mother with a new baby.”

“I tell you,” Hogg said, “I didn’t do any other jobs. I couldn’t have because I only came out of prison yesterday morning.”

That explained the prison pallor. Abernethy had returned from Australia, so he would have plenty of time on the sea voyage to gain a healthy colour on his face.

“I hope you enjoyed your freedom,” Scuddamore said, “because you’re going right back into the criminal hotel.”

“Sir,” Lieutenant Anstruther stepped into the duty room. As immaculate as always, he gave Watters a look that might have been of triumph. “There’s been another break-in, sir.”

“We know,” Mackay said. “Mr Gilbride’s office and Watters has caught the culprits.” He indicated the four scowling prisoners.

“No, sir,” Anstruther said. “A house in West Ferry and the thief stole a load of silverware.” He gave Watters a sidelong look. “He made a professional job of it, too. He climbed eight-foot-high iron railings, cut out an entire pane of glass, carved a hole in the shutters to force off the keeper bar and opened the shutters without anybody hearing a thing,”

“He knew what he was doing, sir,” Scuddamore agreed reluctantly.

Anstruther ignored Scuddamore’s comments. His words were addressed to Watters, although he faced and spoke to Mackay. “He left his calling card, Mr Mackay.”

Watters felt the blood drain from his face. Despite his success in arresting some unpleasant criminals, he knew Abernethy was still at large.

Mackay stiffened. “What calling card, Anstruther?”

“A biscuit, sir. An Abernethy biscuit.”

“Oh, dear God.” Watters felt all his guarded elation slide away. Walter Abernethy could not have been clearer. “He’s taunting us, sir. He knows we know who he is, and he’s laughing at us.”

“And I have to find the money to pay for damage to Mr Gilbride’s window,” Mackay lifted the biscuit that Anstruther handed to him, snorted, and threw it into the pail that passed for a bucket. “We went to a lot of effort and expense to catch a few petty thieves. It was not a good day, not a good day at all, Sergeant Watters. I expect better in future.”

“Yes, sir, Watters said.

Mackay stalked away, with Anstruther hovering for a moment longer.

“Your little games cost the police a great deal of money and some credibility, Sergeant Watters,” Anstruther said. “I advise you to stick to proper policing in future, rather than trying to be clever.”

“We took a cracksman and three rogues off the streets,” Duff said, philosophically.

“The magistrate will throw out the case,” Anstruther said. “Breaking into an empty room to steal a handful of bricks? I can almost hear the laughter now.” He walked away, tall, dignified, and cold.

Duff called after him. “Catching four criminals would be a good day’s work in other circumstances.”

Watters shook his head. “Aye, Duff, in other circumstances, it would. In that case, we failed, and Abernethy is laughing at us.” He saw the packet of Abernethy biscuits that somebody had placed on his desk and frowned. “And you can take that b****y thing away!”

Murdoch stood in the doorway, stuffing tobacco into his pipe. “I thought you might like them, George,” he said.

Watters opened his mouth to reply, closed it, and sat down. He knew that Murdoch was trying to inject humour into a grim situation, but he was in no mood to laugh. Although he had taken a quartet of thieves off the streets, he was now convinced that a police officer was passing information onto Abernethy.

Then he remembered the brass buckle in Anstruther’s office.

* * *

Watters was always glad to return home to Castle Street. He resented working overtime that kept him from his wife, but the consolation was the extra money that paid the rent and put food on the table. The sensation of putting the key in his lock was deeply satisfying, as was knowing he had no debts and some savings in the bank.

His house had three rooms, a bedroom, a living room, and a minuscule kitchen, with front and back windows to allow light. It was not large but compared to the houses in which most people in industrial Scotland lived, it was a small palace, and Marie kept it immaculate.

Marie’s initial smile faded as she saw the expression on Watters’ face. “Did you not catch him, then?”

Watters slumped onto his chair. “We caught the fellows who robbed Mr Gilbride’s offices,” he said. “Thanks to your help.”

“Well, that’s good, surely?” Marie sat opposite him.

“It should be good,” Watters agreed, “if the men we caught were the men we wanted to catch.”

“And weren’t they?”

“No,” Watters said. “We caught a cracksman and three wild men, but not Abernethy and his companion.”

“Why is that?” Marie asked.

“Abernethy didn’t turn up,” Watters said. “I did all I could to catch him, and he evaded me with ease.” He sighed, looking into the bright fire. “Too much ease.” He explained about the Abernethy biscuit.

“The cheeky blaggard!” Marie said, with the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Did you keep the biscuit?”

“I did not,” Watters said.

Marie’s smile broadened. “A pity, they’re one of my favourites. They cure indigestion,” she said. “And wind.” She nudged him. “You caught four criminals, George. That’s a good day’s work.”

“It’s not good enough,” Watters said. “I wanted Abernethy and whoever he is working with.”

“Well, George, you didn’t arrest him, and there’s no sense in moping over it,” Marie adopted her wifely voice. “So, sit up, work out what went wrong and what you can do about it.”

“I know what went wrong,” Watters said. “Somebody told Abernethy about my plan, so when half the Dundee detective force and two of the finest uniforms were in one place, he struck somewhere else and left me a biscuit!”

“Somebody?” Marie raised her eyebrows.

“My informants warned me that a policeman calling himself Lieutenant Kinghorn helping Abernethy.”

“I don’t know an officer of that name,” Marie said.

“There isn’t one,” Watters said. “But somebody, probably somebody in the police, informed Abernethy of my plan.”

“And?” Marie asked.

“And what?”

“And what do you intend doing about it?”

Watters stared into the fire for a moment. “I am not sure,” he said. “I must catch him, but I can’t think how.”

“You’ll think of something,” Marie looked up as the baby started to cry. “Oh, well, there goes our two minutes of peace.”

“I’ll go,” Watters said, smiling.

Marie watched as Watters walked through to the other room. She had bought a dozen Abernethy biscuits from the local shop but decided not to produce them. She knew her man was not in the mood.

* * *

“Well, Watters,” Mackay leaned back in his chair. “Your plan worked to an extent. We did get four unpleasant characters off the streets, but I fear we are no closer to catching Walter Abernethy.”

“No, sir,” Watters said. “It’s possible that a police officer is involved.”

Mackay stiffened in his seat as his fingers began their devil’s tattoo on the desk. “Tell me all you know, Sergeant.”

Watters related everything he knew without mentioning his suspicion of Lieutenant Anstruther.

Mackay listened, noting down the details. “Do you have a description?”

“Not really, sir. I know he is very tall.”

Mackay sighed. “In the land of the blind, Watters, a one-eyed man is king. To the majority of people in Dundee, every police officer is very tall. You’d better do better than that.”

“I will, sir,” Watters did not mention Anstruther’s brass buckle.

“This fellow calls himself Lieutenant Kinghorn,” Mackay said when Watters finished. “Do you have any suspects, Watters?”

“No, sir.”

Mackay’s fingers returned to their frenzied tapping. “I hope you are wrong, Sergeant. Who else knows?”

“Scuddamore and Duff, sir. I thought it best not to tell Boyle and Shaw yet.”

“I agree,” Mackay said. “How safe are your detectives?”

“Perfectly safe, sir. They won’t say a thing.”

Mackay stood up and looked out of his window. “Leave it with me, Watters, but monitor the situation. How are your other cases coming along?”

“I haven’t had time to look at the scuttling one again, sir.”

Mackay’s fingers began to drum on the window ledge. “Have you made a decision about the new detective?”