A Third Class Murder: a cozy 1930s mystery set in an English village

by Hugh Morrison

  ‘Sounds like he was planning a dirty weekend with his girlfriend, sir’.

  ‘You Scots like to put things bluntly, don’t you?’

  McPherson chuckled. ‘Still, he had some imagination, at least he didn’t call himself Smith’.

  Ludd put the envelope in his pocket. ‘I want to talk to the witnesses now, if we leave it any longer the trail’s going to get as cold as this poor fellow here. We’ll start with the guard.'

  A few minutes later, Ludd and McPherson stood in the guard’s section of the carriage, holding tin mugs full of tea that had been prepared for them by the driver using some mysterious process of procuring boiling water from the engine. Before them stood Watkins, the guard, shifting his weight on his feet anxiously.

  Ludd began asking questions while McPherson took notes. ‘You’re the one that found the body?’

  ‘That’s right,’ replied Watkins, as he drew deeply on the stub of a cigarette. ‘I thought Mr Cokeley had dropped off to sleep when I looked through the window. But then when I opened the door, I saw…well…I saw everything.’

  ‘And nobody else was in the compartment?’

  ‘That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier. A woman, a blonde, she was, glamorous type, you know, got in with him at Lower Addenham, but I didn’t see her get out. She can’t have done, else I would have seen her when I was opening the doors.’

  ‘She definitely got in his compartment?’

  ‘I’m sure of it sir. And this is a non-vestibule carriage.’

  ‘A non-what?’

  ‘Non-vestibule, sir. No corridor between the compartments. Once you’re shut in, you can’t move about the train.’

  ‘I see. But why were you keeping it free for Cokeley?’

  ‘I always keeps a compartment free for Mr Cokeley, on account of him not liking to travel with anyone else on a Wednesday. He can’t…he couldn’t, be shut in with anyone on a Wednesday.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of claustrophobia applying on certain days only.’

  ‘Claustro…what’s that you say, sir?’

  ‘Never mind. What I’m trying to find out is, why did he want to travel alone? And if he did why did he let this mystery woman in?’

  ‘I would have thought you lot knew all about it.’

  ‘Kindly enlighten us, Mr Watkins,’ sighed Ludd.

  ‘Well,’ responded the guard, ‘he was robbed, see. A few years back. On the same line. On his own in a compartment with a feller who got on at Lower Addenham. Mr Cokeley always pays…paid in the takings from his shop to the bank here in Great Netley, and this chap robbed him on the way. Fair shook him up it did, and after that he used to slip me something to keep a compartment free for him every Wednesday.’

  ‘So there’s no bank in Lower Addenham then, I take it?’

  ‘That’s right sir. And it’s always on a Wednesday he goes…went…because that’s half day closing in Lower Addenham, so’s he can leave the shop shut, but early closing here in Great Netley is a Thursday so the bank is open. It used to different here, mind, before the war, it was…’

  Ludd cut the man off. ‘Yes, yes, let’s just stick to the matter in hand, shall we? So Cokeley was robbed a few years back, you say? Did they catch the fellow who did it?’

  ‘I thought you fellows would know that,’ replied Watkins in a confused tone. ‘Yes, they caught him, he got five years I think, and that was getting off lightly if you ask me’.

  ‘I’m not a walking encyclopaedia of crime,’ replied Ludd. ‘It was probably before my time so please do forgive me, won’t you?’ he added in a sarcastic tone.

  ‘Now, let’s carry on,’ continued Ludd. ‘Cokeley was robbed of the takings a few years ago. Shakes him up presumably so much he won’t travel with anyone else in the compartment. I’m assuming he didn’t have a car or a motor cycle?’

  ‘Not Mr Cokeley, no,’ replied Watkins. ‘I said that to him after the business with the robbery. Ought to get yourself a motor car, I said, even though that was taking business away from the railway, like, I said then you’d be safe in that. “Not likely”, he said, “too expensive, motor cars, and anyway what’s to stop somebody jumping on the running board and robbing me on the way?” Well, I had no answer to that. “No, he said, “Once I’m in that compartment alone I know I’m alright”. Poor devil.’

  ‘But he was happy for you to allow a woman, such as this disappearing one we’ve been talking about, to get in with him?’ said Ludd.

  Watkins chuckled. ‘Oh he didn’t mind a lady travel companion. Had an eye for a pretty face, did Mr Cokeley, if you know what I mean. He felt safe with a woman in the compartment, I think - question is did she feel safe with him?’ He gave a rasping laugh and lit another cigarette.

  ‘Yes, thank you, we’ll stick to the theories,’ said Ludd. ‘Now, you say Cokeley took the train to Netley to pay in the takings at the bank. Do you know if had the money with him this time?’

  ‘I think he did, sir,’ replied Watkins thoughtfully. ‘Yes, he was carrying that little doctor’s bag, you know, a brown leather one, that he always kept the money in’.

  ‘We didn’t see any bag in the compartment, sir,’ said McPherson, looking up from his notebook.

  ‘And you’re sure he was carrying it?’ asked Ludd.

  ‘Sure as I’m seeing you now, sir,’ replied the guard.

  McPherson spoke again. ‘So it looks like he was robbed again, but this time whoever did it made sure he wasn’t around to tell the tale.’

  ‘Perhaps…’replied Ludd uncertainly, then turned to Watkins again.

  ‘This woman you say you let into his compartment. I’d hate to think a woman could do this, but let’s say she did. Could she have got off the train at any time?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so, sir,’ replied Watkins. ‘She goes a fair old lick nearly all of the way, does this train, and if a slip of a girl like that jumped out she’d most likely break her neck.’

  ‘What about when the train stopped here at the end of the run? Could she have got off without being seen?’

  ‘I don’t see how she could have,’ asserted Watkins. If she’d got out on the platform side I would have seen her, and if she managed to get out on the other side of the train, well it’s just a brick wall the whole length of the station, she’d have been even more of a sight trying to climb up onto the platform in that tight dress she was wearing.’

  Ludd glanced out of the window on the side of the train which was away from the platform. He opened the guard’s door on that side, looking down at a drop of several feet into a narrow gap between the train and a moss-clad brick wall, decorated with brightly coloured posters for Oxo cubes, Fry’s chocolate and Empire Wine. The gravel by the tracks did not seem to be disturbed and he was minded to agree with Watkins’ assertion that anybody trying to flee in this manner would make themselves more conspicuous, not less.

  Sighing, he turned back into the guard’s van and pulled the door closed. ‘Are you sure there isn’t anywhere else on the route where she could have jumped out? Do you have to stop or slow down anywhere?’

  A flash of inspiration crossed Watkins’ face. ‘I clean forgot. We did stop for the signal at the main line junction. And somebody did jump out. What with finding Mr Cokeley…like that…I must have got a bit muddled.’

  Ludd frowned. ‘If you’re up in court as a witness to all this, as I suspect you will be, you can’t say you’re getting a bit muddled when you’re being cross-examined. Now, try to think. The train stopped at a signal, and then what?’

  ‘Then…’Watkins paused before continuing, ‘then I was looking down the line waiting for the signal to change. I was here with the brake, see, waiting to let it off.’

  He pointed to what looked to Ludd to be a large steering wheel attached to the floor of the carriage, on the left hand side facing the engine.

  ‘I’d put the brake on when I realised the driver up the front was braking too. That’s to give him a bit of extra stopping power. We don’t alway
s stop at that signal but there must have been a London train coming through the main line.’

  ‘Alright, don’t worry about the technical details for now,’ said Ludd, aware that he had several more statements to take. ‘The train stopped and you looked out down the line.’

  ‘That’s right, I looked out this window here,’ said the guard, putting his head out of the window facing the platform, ‘and I looked down the track to the signal. And I sees someone getting off. But that’s the odd thing, sir, it wasn’t a woman!’

  Ludd and McPherson exchanged glances.

  ‘Describe what you saw,’ asked Ludd.

  ‘Just the back of a man, running off into the undergrowth by the signal.’

  ‘Can you describe him?’ asked McPherson.

  Watkins paused. ‘Well…hard to say, I only saw him from behind. Young I’d say, by the speed he was moving.’

  ‘What was he wearing?’ said Ludd.

  ‘Dark suit, big scarf, cap pulled down, just an ordinary looking feller really. I reckon he was just trying to avoid his fare, you get that sometimes, tramps and that, jumping off, I’ve known it to happen afore. ’Specially since the slump started.’

  ‘Was he carrying anything?’ asked the Inspector.

  ‘He had a couple of bags of some kind, now that I think of it, but he dropped one of them.’

  ‘A sack, or a bag?’

  ‘I think he dropped a sack, but when he ran off it looked like he might be holding a bag as well.’

  ‘Was it Cokeley’s takings bag?’ asked McPherson.

  ‘Couldn’t rightly say,’ said Watkins scratching his ear. ‘Might have been, I suppose.’

  ‘What compartment did he get out of?’asked McPherson, not looking up from his notebook.

  ‘I didn’t see that, I only heard the door slam and when I looked out he was running off.’

  A look of horror then crossed the guard’s face. ‘Hey, you don’t think it could be that feller that did for Mr Cokeley do you?’

  ‘I don’t think anything at this point, Mr Watkins,’ said Ludd. ‘I’m just trying to ascertain some facts. Now, you’re absolutely sure you didn’t let this man into Cokeley’s compartment?’

  ‘No sir, I didn’t. Only that woman I told you about.’

  ‘Alright Mr Watkins, you’ve been very helpful,’ said Ludd briskly. McPherson, let’s speak to the others.’

  ‘What about the train, sir?’ said Watkins querulously. Only it’s due back in Lower Addenham soon.’

  ‘This train’s not going anywhere, it’s a crime scene,’ said Ludd. ‘Go and talk to the station master about it, see if you can get a replacement running from the other platform.’

  ‘I don’t know about that sir…’ said Watkins doubtfully.

  ‘I’m running a murder enquiry, not a train timetable,’ said Ludd wearily. ‘It’s really no concern of mine if you tell him or not but this train isn’t going anywhere until we’ve had a good look over it.’

  Looking duly admonished, Watkins hurried from the guard’s van to speak to the station master.

  Once they were alone in the carriage Ludd turned to his junior officer.

  ‘Well, what do you think, McPherson?’

  ‘Sounds like a robbery gone wrong sir. It’s happened to him before, and it could even be the same fellow again’.

  ‘Hmm,’ replied Ludd. ‘Could be. I don’t recall that case and since neither of us were working this patch at that time we don’t know anything about it. Do some digging back at the station and see if you can get a name.’

  ‘Right sir, and what about the woman?’

  ‘The mystery blonde, you mean? Lord knows. My guess is she was probably in on the robbery and got off the train here without anybody noticing. See if there’s anybody in the area fitting that description who pulls this kind of caper.’

  ‘What kind of caper would that be, sir?’

  ‘You’re a grown man McPherson, you can work it out. A man who lives off what are politely known as immoral earnings, who gets one of his “employees” to make advances at a gentleman and then when said gentleman’s got his guard down, he gets bashed on the head, or in this case, stabbed in the heart.’

  ‘I see,’ said McPherson. ‘But Watkins said it was only Cokeley and the woman in the compartment.’

  ‘Yes, but he also said the train stopped and he saw a man jump off. Who’s to say he didn’t jump on the train just before?’

  ‘Aye…you could be right there.’

  ‘I’m not saying I’m right or wrong about anything just now,’ replied Ludd. ‘I’m just looking at what we know so far. Now, you start finding out about that man that robbed Cokeley last time and any accomplices he might have had. And tell the men to start looking along the line for that sack and anything else they might find.’

  ‘Right sir. I’ll get back to Midchester right away and start looking through the files. Will you be alright to carry on here sir?’

  ‘I can look after myself, thank you, sergeant. Take the Morris, I’ll hitch a lift back with the uniformed lads.’

  Ludd sighed as he watched McPherson walk briskly down the platform. This was proving to be a puzzler alright, but in his experience, a case that seemed complicated at first often turned out to be simple; like a tangled ball of wool you just had to tug gently at one or two threads with sufficient persistence and in time, the whole lot would unravel.

  Chapter Four

  S haw, still waiting on the platform at Great Netley station, wondered if it would be indecorous to smoke with a corpse lying so close to him. He decided it would. Besides, there was Goggins with his bad lungs to consider right next to him.

  As he put his pipe back into his pocket he tried to avoid glancing through the open door of the compartment in which Cokeley lay, uncovered, but it was difficult to avoid seeing him, particularly as a constable had told them under no account must they move away from the platform.

  Both Shaw and Goggins had encountered death at close quarters before, but that had been abroad and in the febrile atmosphere of war; a violent death in the peace of the English countryside seemed somehow more shocking.

  ‘Poor devil,’ said Goggins, staring at the open compartment door. ‘I know we had our differences but still, that’s no way for a man to go.’

  ‘Indeed,’ murmured Shaw, saying after that a silent prayer for the deceased.

  He looked up to see the two flashily dressed men who had boarded the train earlier approaching. The taller one stuck out his hand. ‘We don’t know each other, sirs, but I’m Mr Symes and this is my partner Mr Davis. We run the estate agency in Lower Addenham.’ Shaw shook hands with the men, but Goggins merely nodded curtly.

  ‘Sorry to meet under such circumstances, eh?’ said Davis. ‘Shocking, just shocking, but good for business though, I must say.’

  ‘Good for business…?’ asked Shaw, puzzled.

  ‘What my partner means to say is,’ interjected Symes, ‘that the firm of Symes and Davis land agents extends their deepest sympathies to all concerned at this difficult time’. He then led Davis away from Shaw and Goggins and the two men began talking in quiet tones. Shaw noticed that Symes appeared to be admonishing Davis.

  The plain-clothes policeman that Shaw had noticed earlier then approached the small group of passengers.

  ‘My name is Ludd, Inspector Ludd, of Midchester Criminal Investigation Department,’ said the man. ‘I appreciate you’ve been kept waiting so I’ll just take brief statements for now and if I need to know more we’ll arrange for you to come to the station.’

  Ludd then looked closely at Shaw.

  ‘I believe we’ve met before, sir,’ he said to the clergyman.

  ‘I’m afraid you have the advantage of me,’ said Shaw with a slight smile.

  ‘Yes, I’ve got it now,’ continued Ludd. ‘You’re the parson over at Lower Addenham. Mr Short.’

  ‘Shaw.’

  ‘Ah yes. At…All Souls, isn’t it?’

  ‘All Saints,’ correcte
d Shaw, wondering when he could have met the Inspector.

  ‘That’s right,’ continued the policeman. ‘You married my sister’s boy a few months back. John and Gladys Renfrew. Lovely service it was, and not too long.’

  Shaw smiled. ‘Brevity is the soul of wit, Inspector; I recall the wedding but, regretfully, not our meeting.’

  Ludd seemed a little disappointed. ‘Well, never mind. I’ll deal with you first if I may. Would you be so kind as to step into the guard’s van?’

  The two men stepped into the little cabin and Ludd turned a page in his notebook. ‘Now sir, you were in the next compartment to the deceased, I understand.’

  ‘That is correct’.

  ‘Did you see or hear anything unusual on the train?’

  ‘Only the man running into the undergrowth.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘When the train stopped at the signal. I heard a shout and looked out of the window, on this side’. Shaw, facing the front of the train, indicated the left hand window. ‘I saw a figure running along the track. He then threw, or perhaps dropped, some sort of sack or bag into the undergrowth.’

  ‘How was he dressed?’

  ‘Oh…in a nondescript manner; a working man’s clothes; a dark suit and cap’.

  ‘Did you see his face?’

  ‘Only for an instant and at that distance I could not make out any features, other than he was clean shaven.’

  ‘Clean…shaven…’ repeated the Inspector slowly as he wrote the words into his pad with the stub of an indelible pencil. ‘And did you hear anything during the journey?’

  ‘There is rather a lot of noise on that line, Inspector, although it sounded as if a conversation took place between Mr Cokeley and the woman in his compartment. By the way, I don’t recall seeing her among the other passengers on the platform. What happened to her?’

  ‘That’s what I’d like to know, sir. Can you describe this woman?’

  ‘Rather glamorous for Lower Addenham. More the sort of woman one sees on the film posters.’