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

by Hugh Morrison

  ‘Go on’.

  ‘I believe that you then killed Mr Cokeley, after which your brother stopped the train at the signal. When he did so, you quickly removed your dress, wig and shoes, opened the compartment door and gave these to your brother along with Cokeley’s money bag. He then fled, pausing only for a moment to release the signal while under cover of the bushes. As it was assumed by the train crew that he was just a fare dodger, the train continued on.

  ‘Your brother then got on his bicycle, making sure that visible tyre tracks were left on the muddy path, and cycled into Midchester.’

  ‘Oh yes, and what was the purpose of that? Or have you finally lost leave of your senses?’

  ‘No, Miss Shaw. I am all too sane, I fear. The purpose of going to Midchester was, I believe, to plant the bicycle and the money bag at the home of the man you knew would be the prime suspect, because he had already carried out a similar robbery - one Reginald West.’

  ‘And how exactly was I supposed to know who he was and where he lived?’

  ‘By reading of him in the newspaper report of his release. I noticed it because it had been used to wrap the items belonging to Mr Goggins which came from your shop, and I assumed you must also have seen it.’

  ‘How can you possibly come up with such a preposterous theory as that?’

  ‘Because, Miss Shaw, I saw the man I now realise was your brother returning to Lower Addenham without his bicycle, looking distinctly perturbed. I knew that had to be significant. One thing the papers did not mention was that he dropped the bag containing the wig and clothes. I know this because it was I who found it. I imagine that was a mistake, and that he intended to dispose of it later.’

  ‘The way you are talking, I’m surprised you didn’t think it was some sort of…double bluff. I’m beginning to think you’re not all there.’

  ‘I believe that the original purpose was to destroy the wig and clothes so that the “mystery blonde” in the railway carriage would remain a mystery. But in the end it did not matter that the wig and clothes were found, because the police, who perhaps have a little more experience of worldly matters than myself, believed they were used by a man to disguise himself as a woman, which had the effect of throwing them off the scent.’

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ said Miss Ellis. ‘If I really was in the railway compartment and killed Cokeley, how on earth did I manage to get off the train without being seen by anybody?’

  ‘That was, I admit, something which quite baffled me,’ said Shaw. ‘But as a biblical scholar, I am aware that different people may give different accounts of the same event. The four gospel authors, for example. In this case, the difference in account, though slight, was crucial, and it was not given by Saint Matthew nor Saint Luke, but by Bill Watkins and Percy Ambler.’

  ‘I’ve no idea who they are but I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me.’

  ‘They work for the railway,’ said Shaw. ‘Myself and Mr Watkins, the guard, saw your brother running from the left hand side of the train as one faces the engine. Mr Ambler, the driver, reported something similar to the police, but it was not until I spoke to him that I realised he had not seen a figure on the left hand side of the train, but on the right. The police did not notice this anomaly, but I did. Mr Ambler described a slightly built, short man in working clothes, running over the fields towards Lower Addenham.

  ‘That was not, I believe, a man, but you. I suspect that your brother handed the men’s clothes to you when the train stopped, you hurriedly changed and passed your wig and dress to him.

  ‘It was he who shouted and banged the door on the left hand side of the train as a distraction while you made your escape. Thus the mystery blonde was enabled to disappear into thin air.’

  ‘Alright,’ said Miss Ellis, glowering. ‘Assuming this nonsense is true, if I did do all this, what on earth was my motive for it? There were only a few pounds worth of takings that day. It was hardly worth bothering to go to the effort of murdering someone. And you haven’t even explained how Mrs Cokeley comes into all this.’

  ‘I admit your motive was difficult to ascertain, but it became more clear after you made several mistakes. Your first mistake was taking the bayonet that belonged to Mr Goggins’.

  ‘How on earth can you prove I took it?’

  ‘I cannot, conclusively. But you will recall that I was in the antiques shop on the day of the argument between Mr Cokeley and Mr Goggins. The bayonet was a particular point of discussion. Upon leaving the shop, Mr Goggins gave the entire box of antiques to me, but when I examined the contents later, the bayonet was not there. Since only myself, Mr Goggins, Mr and Mrs Cokeley and you were in the shop, it could only have been one of us who took it.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Miss Ellis. ‘Try proving it was me in a court of law. It could have been any one of us.’

  ‘That is unlikely,’ replied Shaw. ‘The police did in fact raise the possibility of my own guilt in the matter - but what would have been my motive? Mr Goggins has been ruled out on grounds of disability. Mrs Cokely is now dead, so even if she killed her husband, there is still another killer at large.

  ‘And you are right, Mr Cokeley could have taken the bayonet - he was perhaps concerned about the release of West, and took it for protection; a struggle ensued and the weapon was taken from him and used against him by West.’

  ‘I should say that’s a far more convincing explanation than that I did it.’

  ‘Perhaps, Miss Ellis,’ said Shaw, ‘but it does not explain who killed Mrs Cokeley. That could not have been West, as he was in a police cell when it happened.’

  ‘It must have been someone else working with him, then,’ said Miss Ellis angrily. ‘I’ve already told this to the police - the real police - they should speak to that pair from the estate agents who were in the shop just before I found Mrs Cokeley.’

  ‘That, I believe, was your second mistake,’ said Shaw.

  Before Miss Ellis could reply, there came a thudding noise from the ceiling and the sound of a muffled voice.

  ‘Ought you to attend to your mother?’ asked Shaw.

  ‘She can wait,’ said Miss Ellis. ‘I want to know what mistake you think I made.’

  ‘You attempted to throw suspicion onto Mr Symes and Miss Frobisher from the estate agency, by telling the police they arrived around twelve and were still there when you left. But a witness saw them returning to their office well before twelve. Either the police did not notice this, or they did and intend to pursue the matter.’

  ‘I don’t see what that proves.’

  ‘In itself, very little. But the police doctor estimated the time of Mrs Cokeley’s death was around noon.’

  ‘I daresay these estimates can be inaccurate,’ said Miss Ellis airily. ‘And you’re forgetting, I wasn’t in the shop between twelve and one so how could I have done it?’

  ‘You told the police you were sitting on the bench in Back Lane. A bench that is conveniently secreted from the main highway, and which is not overlooked. And your only witness was…your brother.’

  ‘Got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ said Miss Ellis, pushing back a lank strand of hair from her forehead. ‘There’s just one problem- none of it is true.’

  ‘Miss Ellis,’ continued Shaw ‘you have attempted to deflect blame for your actions from the beginning; first by making it appear that West was involved, secondly by using the bayonet that implicated Mr Goggins, and finally by claiming that Mr Symes and Miss Frobisher were in the shop when they were not. I am asking you, as your clergyman, to give yourself up before it is too late.’

  ‘You’re not my clergyman,’ hissed Miss Ellis. ‘Mother might fall for all that but I don’t. You’re all the same, you men. You think you can just cajole me into whatever you want. Taking advantage of your position.’

  ‘On the contrary Miss Ellis,’ said Shaw. ‘I have sought to use my position to your advantage - but I see that my efforts have been in vain. I regret that you leave me no alternativ
e but to speak to the police.’

  Shaw strode out of the parlour into the little hallway. The vestibule was silent, except for the distant sound of a car engine straining up the hill from Midchester. Shaw turned to the door, but Miss Ellis deftly blocked it. Shaw noticed a strange gleam in her eyes, perhaps merely the reflection of light from the little window above the door onto her spectacles.

  ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘I want to know why you think I supposedly did all this.’

  Shaw sensed an advantage and pressed it home. ‘Very well. I suspect that you were defrauding Mr Cokeley, and that somehow he found out.’

  ‘And how did you work that out?’

  ‘Another mistake, Miss Ellis, was to alter the prices on the items in the shop. The painting that my wife bought, for example. She mentioned a similar mistake had occurred before. Once might have been accepted as human error, but twice aroused suspicion. My wife is rather astute in matters of finance and tends to notice such things.

  ‘You also mentioned to me that on the day of Mr Cokeley’s murder, you had given him a normal week’s takings. When the police found the bag, it contained over seven pounds. Mrs Cokeley, however, told me that the shop barely made more than a couple of pounds a week. This added to my suspicions that you were involved in some form of embezzlement.

  ‘I believe that Mr Cokeley found out about this embezzlement, and threatened to expose you. Later on his wife became suspicious as well, probably because of certain allegations that the estate agents were making about her accounts.’

  Miss Ellis was silent. She was breathing heavily and staring at Shaw with that same strange gleam in her eyes. Before she could reply, there came again the sound of banging from the ceiling. Shaw stepped forward towards the door.

  ‘Ignore it,’ snapped Miss Ellis. ‘I’ve had just about enough of her. Treating me like a servant, at her beck and call, making me pay for doctors when most of the time there’s nothing wrong with her.’

  ‘Doctors are expensive,’ said Shaw. ‘A jury would understand that a person might be driven to extreme measures to pay for one.’

  Miss Ellis advanced towards Shaw. He stepped backwards in the direction of the kitchen.

  ‘Clever, aren’t you?’ said Miss Ellis. ‘Alright, between you and me, I’ll admit it. I was taking money from Cokeley. And yes, it was to pay for mother’s blasted medical bills and to eventually get her off my hands. Jack helps a little but it’s not enough.’

  ‘I suspect there was more to it than that,’ continued Shaw. He stepped backward into the little kitchen, noting the back door into the garden. He wondered if he could escape throught it, then cursed himself for cowardice.

  ‘I think,’ continued Shaw, ‘that Mr Cokeley used the threat of exposing you as a thief for his own selfish ends. He became aware that you were stealing from him, but rather than dismiss you, he allowed you continue with your trick of overpricing articles, and any other methods you had such as false accounting. After all, it was making money for him which his wife did not know about. I believe he allowed you to continue with this deception - on one condition.’

  ‘And what was that?’

  ‘On his person the police found a letter from an hotel in Brighton confirming a reservation for a Mr and Mrs Brown. I fear, Miss Ellis, that you were ‘Mrs Brown’.

  ‘That was the last straw,’ hissed Miss Ellis. ‘I put up with him pawing and prodding me, me with no chance of finding a decent man in this godforsaken hole, spending all my time and money looking after mother.’

  ‘So he made you his mistress.’

  ‘No he damned well didn’t! He thought he was going to, booking his dirty weekend in Brighton and telling me if I didn’t come along he’d tell the police all about me. I pleaded with him not to, I told him I had to take the money for mother’s doctors and that I would pay him back. But he wasn’t have any of it, oh no. He even had the gall to give me some money himself. Licking his fat fingers and peeling off pound notes with a leer as if he was putting them on a horse at the races.

  ‘He said “don’t spend it on your mother dear, buy yourself some decent frocks and get your hair done like those girls in the pictures. Stop being such a frump and show yourself off”, he said. The filthy pig.’

  Shaw realised the woman was becoming hysterical. He resolved to calm the situation.

  ‘Miss Ellis, forgive me. It was wrong of me to pry. I have perhaps allowed my imagination to run away with me.’ He turned towards the back door. ‘I shall disturb you no further.’

  Before he could place his hand on the door latch, Miss Ellis grabbed a knife from beside the kitchen sink and held it in front of her.

  ‘You’re not going anywhere, vicar,’ she hissed, with a sarcastic emphasis on the final word.

  Shaw breathed deeply. The war had largely cured him of any fear of his own mortality. His concern was more that Miss Ellis would herself be harmed should he attempt to subdue her.

  ‘My dear Miss Ellis,’ he said calmly. ‘I have no concern for my own safety. But if you harm me it will merely harm your own cause.’

  ‘What cause?’ asked Miss Ellis, with a confused expression. ‘I tell you, I didn’t do anything!’

  As she began to advance towards him with the knife in her outstretched hand, Shaw suspected the woman had taken leave of her senses. He realised he must keep her talking until he could summon help.

  ‘Is that how you killed Mrs Cokeley?’ he asked gently. ‘With a kitchen knife?’

  Miss Ellis laughed, and in it Shaw heard an echo of insanity. ‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘It was some sort of antique paper knife lying around. To be honest I didn’t expect it to be so sharp. I thought it would just quieten her, not kill her.’

  ‘Quieten her?’

  ‘Yes, she kept on and on at me that day...she said she’d spoken to the estate agents, that there were certain anomalies in the accounts, and that she knew it must be something to do with me. Then she accused me of…of…’

  Shaw noticed Miss Ellis’s outstretched arm dropping slightly. He stepped forward slightly.

  ‘She accused you of being her husband’s mistress.’

  ‘Get back!’ shouted Miss Ellis, and advanced on Shaw, until his back was almost touching the kitchen door. He could feel the little metal latch brush against the fabric of his raincoat.

  ‘Yes,’ she continued. ‘And that’s when I stabbed her. I had to shut her up and stop her saying those filthy things. Just like I had to shut her husband up.’

  ‘I am sure that you did not intend to kill Mr Cokeley,’ said Shaw. ‘I think you were driven to it. The police will understand.’

  ‘Of course I didn’t intend to kill him,’ said Miss Shaw. ‘Do you think I’m some sort of murderer? We planned just to rob him. Jack and I. Once Cokeley found out I’d been taking money I knew the game was up. That last thirty pounds was enough to get mother into a nursing home and for us to clear out of here.’

  ‘Thirty pounds?’

  ‘Yes, you may be clever vicar, but you don’t know everything. There was thirty pounds in Cokeley’s bag when he got on the train. We’d had a good week, with my little pricing errors pushing the profits up nicely. The plan was simply to rob him of it. Jack was supposed to leave two pounds in the bag - enough to prove West was the thief - and bring the rest home. But he told me he got muddled and left seven instead.’

  ‘When he planted it in West’s yard.’

  ‘Yes. And we used the rest to secure mother’s nursing home place. I read about West being released and thought it would be the perfect opportunity to throw suspicion onto him. Jack came up with the idea of planting a bicycle in West’s house and stopping the train at the signal was his as well. Clever, wasn’t it?’

  Shaw noticed the woman’s arm was now almost by her side. He continued to engage her in conversation.

  ‘And yet you did kill Mr Cokeley. Some might say you planned it, since you took Mr Goggins’ bayonet with you on the train.’

  ‘That was only to scare him,�
� said Miss Ellis. ‘I thought of that on the spur of the moment when I was packing the bayonet away. I thought I’d get dressed up in those ridiculous clothes and wear a wig to make my hair look like those silly women in the films. The way he wanted it.

  ‘He didn’t recognise me at first when I got into the compartment as I had a scarf around my face and was wearing dark glasses. But once the train got underway he did. He thought I’d actually gone along with his scheme to make myself look like a tart at his expense.’

  ‘And he took advantage of the situation.’

  ‘He tried, the beast. I knew I just had to keep him occupied for a few minutes until the train stopped. We’d timed it the week before and I knew exactly when we’d get to the signal. But that brute couldn’t keep his hands off me, he started talking nonsense about leaving his wife and setting me up as some sort of kept woman, and the train wasn’t stopping and I…I stabbed him to make him stop. To make it all stop.’

  Shaw felt a wave of pity for Miss Ellis; her previous air of defiance had been replaced by one of defeat and despair.

  Shaw realised this was his chance, and he lunged forward to grab Miss Ellis’ wrist. With surprising force she attempted to wrench her arm free.

  ‘I…told…you,’ she gasped, ‘You’re not going anywhere!’ Her arm shot free of Shaw’s grip and she raised it high; a ray of sunshine from the kitchen window behind her gleamed momentarily off the blade. Time seemed to stand still and Shaw realised with a strange calmness that this was the hour of his death.

  Suddenly he heard someone shouting from the passage in front of him, from behind Miss Ellis.

  ‘Stop, Sybil. No more killing.’ It was her brother.

  Miss Ellis looked around in confusion, and lowered her arm.

  ‘What…what are you doing Jack? Why aren’t you at work?’

  Ellis stepped forward. ‘Don’t come any closer!’ said his sister, turning between her brother and Shaw, holding the knife in front of her. ‘Or you, vicar.’