by Stan Mason
As Johnson left, the banker heaved a sigh of relief. He could hardly believe it but this was his last day at the bank. As soon as the gang had robbed the bank, he would hang around for a couple of hours and then hail a taxi on his way on his way home and pick up Paula. Then they would soon be at the railway station waiting for a train to take them to Manchester. There they would catch a plane to the Caribbean and be gone from Britain and the Prescot Bank... maybe for ever. All he had to do was to make the final instalment at the Swiss Bank and then it was practically over. He was slightly puzzled with regard to the bank robbery. After all the bank would soon discover their loss. The money would almost certainly be discovered to be missing on the Monday morning by which time both he and Paula would be in the Caribbean. The bank raid only complicated matters but Paula had to have her reasons. However it meant that he had to face an awkward period of almost three hours before he went home on the Friday whereas if nothing of that nature had been planned, he would have until Monday before any alarm was sounded. If he had known, on this occasion, that he was being watched, he would have started shaking in his shoes. Abbott had taken closer orders after finding the torn banknote wrappers and he was looking for any clues that might held him in his cause. He kept a close eye on the Assistant Manager and followed him into the street at lunchtime. Waverly had become a little overconfident only looking behind him occasionally to see whether he was being followed. He didn’t know that but Abbott was on his tail. After he had gone into the Swiss Bank, the junior banker tried to look in through the window but the frosted glass prevented him from seeing anything inside.
‘What are you up to, Mr. Waverley?’ he muttered to himself. ‘It can’t be anything legal. Mr. Crozier and I are dying to know. Yes... we’re dying to know!’
After a short while, he walked away thoughtfully. Perhaps Waverley was being interviewed for another job. There was a strong possibility for that assumption especially as Prescot Bank had sent all the staff the details about its redundancy programme. If that were so, Crozier might be promoted and, at last, the subordinate would be rid of him.
When he returned to Prescot Bank, Abbott burst into Crozier’s office excitedly without knocking.
‘Since when has it been unnecessary to knock before being permitted to enter this room?’ he snapped testily.
‘I’m sorry, Mr. Crozier but it’s very urgent. I think I’m on to something.’
‘Carry on, Abbot’ continued the senior man. ‘What’s so important that you have to dash in here without warning?’
‘I followed Mr. Waverley at lunchtime. Do you know what I discovered?’
‘No... but you’re going to tell me anyway.’
‘You won’t believe this but he went to a Swiss Bank in the City carrying his briefcase.’
‘What’s so strange about that? He might have been meeting a friend.’
‘At a Swiss Bank. I don’t think so,’ returned the junior man.
‘Prescot Bank has all kinds of deals with other banks,’ returned Crozier coldly. ‘It’s a common thing.’
‘He was carrying a briefcase and he looked very suspicious, checking that no one was following him. I tell you there’s something very strange going on.’
‘You’re becoming paranoid, Abbott,’ claimed the senior man. ‘You need a holiday. I know we both desire promotion but we have to be patient and take any opportunity that comes along to achieve it.’
‘I decided to take the initiative when I got back,’ Abbott told him bluntly. ‘I took the liberty of arranging for a visit to the safe to check the money there. Will you come with me?’
Crozier stared at him with a reluctant expression on his face. The last thing he wanted to do was to get involved with an activity which might cause him embarrassment. His junior was now drawing him into something that might end in distress and he was distinctly uncomfortable about it,. ’Very well, Abbot,‘ he said eventually. ‘This is the last time I’m going to accommodate you. If this is another wild goose chase...’ he continued tailing off as the meaning was obvious. He got to his feet slowly and reluctantly. ‘Let’s get to it.’
They went down to the safe but no one was there. Abbott had expected David Johnson to be there with his key and code, and he had contacted someone from Head Office to bring copies of Waverley’s keys and code but, for some unknown reason, neither of them were there. Not surprisingly Crozier was less than pleased to be standing outside a closed safe like a fool.
‘I don’t want to hear any more of your stupid ideas, Abbott’ he shouted at the junior man. ‘You made a complete fool of yourself and you’ve dragged me into your fantasy world. I’ve had enough! I don’t want to see you for the next two weeks and I suggest most strongly that you take that holiday I advised you to do.’ With that, he stormed angrily up the stairs and went directly to his office. It was the last time he would listen to the ramblings of his subordinate or entertain any of his theories. He was determined that it would be the very last time!
***
In the Charnley Wood police station, Marley was sitting at his desk poring over a pile of files. The cases were all minor but they seemed to stack up endlessly. He picked up one of them idly, stared at the first page inside, and threw it back on the pile. It was clearly going to be one of the most boring days of his life It had already started adversely. His mind weighed heavily on Fred Wilson’s capture, which he believed was imminent, although he couldn’t fathom how it was going to come about. Distracted by his own thoughts, he had left his house in the early hours of the morning only to realise that he had left the door keys and those of his car inside. The lock sealed the door as it closed which meant that he couldn’t get inside to retrieve the keys. He was forced to smash a window to gain entry and after preparing to get into his car he realised that one of the tyres was flat. It was clearly going to be a bad day for him from the start. When he arrived at the police station, there was a note on his desk from Frazier to say that a murder had been committed in the area and he had gone to investigate. A short while later, Trenchard entered his office and stood waiting to gain his attention. When Marley failed to acknowledge his presence, he stepped forward to ask him the question that was burning on his lips.
‘Do you think we should have another go at the bank robber?’ he asked in a quiet voice.
Marley looked up at him in a disgruntled manner. ’Let his stew!’ he muttered irately. ‘We now have a murder case to resolve. A woman was found dead in Charnley Wood forest, A note here says that she was strangled with a red scarf. The dye came off on her neck and she had rope marks around her wrists. Of course, not that it’s unexpected in such circumstances, but there were no witnesses and no CCTV cameras in the vicinity.’
’Looks like it’s going to be a tricky one,’ stated the subordinate. ’I mean anyone could have killed her.’
The senior police officer stared at him with a dull expression on his face. ’Indeed, Trenchard,’ he uttered with contempt. ‘There are thirty thousand people in the area who could have done it. Thirty thousand suspects! What do you suggest we do, eh?’
‘I would look towards a husband or boyfriend,’ declared Trenchard blandly. ’That would be the first thing I’d do.’
’What do you think Frazier’s doing now... frying fish?’ Agreed... in most cases it’s someone close to the victim but that might not necessarily be the case. It’s a matter of substantiating a motive and providing concrete proof.’
’O course... it could be anyone,’ came the response.
’When are you taking your detective examinations,’ asked Marley with a dull expression on his face.
’In three months’ time, sir.’
’Take my advice, Trenchard,’ suggested the police chief. ’Don’t bother. You haven’t go the instincts of a detective. Not by a long chalk!’
’I could learn with experience,’ returned the junior m
an.
’You can’t learn things like that. Either you’ve got it or you haven’t and you haven’t... believe me! It would take you a hundred years and even then you wouldn’t make it.’
’I’m still going to take them,’ persisted the younger man. ‘You’ve never given me the chance. You never listen to my hunches. I even got the bank that Fred Wilson robbed but you never listened.’
The very name of the bank robber infuriated the senior policeman. The man was definitely his bete-noire and he strongly resented his subordinate bringing his name into the conversation. ‘Your problem, Trenchard, is that you ignore the facts and rely too much on hunches. Okay, you may get one or two of them right but, in the long run, you’re going to fail and keep failing. You need to look before you leap!’
The telephone rang at that moment and Marley answered the call. ‘Yes,’ he shouted into the telephone receiver, although he didn’t mean to be rude. ‘Frazier! What’s going on?’ There followed a short conversation and then the senior police officer replaced the receiver and stood up ready to leave. ‘You’re in charge here ‘till I get back, Tranchard. I’m off to see the body. Frazier’s found something of interest.’
He left the building and Trenchard stood quite still for a few moments before taking action. He decided that he would have another attempt to get the information required from Will Hunter. He reckoned he knew the way to crack the bank robber, He would do it by conciliation rather than pressure. Taking the keys from Marley’s drawer, he went along to the cells and opened the door where Hunter had been placed.
‘Come on, Gregory Peck,’ he greeted. ‘We’re going to have another little chat.’
By this time, the bank robber’s hearing had returned to normality and he was able hear every word the other man said without having to read his lips. Trenchard took him to an interview room and sat opposite him, turning on the tape-recorder.
‘Right,’ he began. ‘You can confide in me. I won’t tell anyone else. This is just between you and me. What’s you’re real name?’
Hunter stared at him thoughtfully. ‘You always interview me with two copers. Where’s the other one?’
Foolishly, the young police officer fell into the trap. ‘There’s been a murder,’ he explained. ‘They’re both out investigating the scene of the crime. That’s why I thought I’d have a private word with you.’
The bank robber’s face lit up. ‘So there’s just you and me here!’
‘Yes... it’s nice and private.’ came the response.
Hunter stood up and stared at the young police office menacingly. ‘Then you won’t mind if I leave you in private!’ he said quietly.
With a few seconds, he had reached the door and left the room before Trenchard could stop him. The young police officer rushed outside after him in an attempt to retried the situation but the bank robber was racing down the road at a tremendous pace, too fast to be caught. Trenchard put his hand in his mouth an bit his fingers until he winced in pain. What would Marley say when he returned to find that the bank robber had escaped. There would be hell to pay. And indeed there was hell to pay! When Marley returned to the police stantion to find out what had happened, he went through the roof and rounded fiercely on his subordinate.
‘Why did you do such a stupid thing without authority?’ he reproached soundly. ‘You’ve really done it this time. That man was the only contact we had with the bank robbers and you let him escape!’
Trenchard made a number of apologetic noises which cut no ice with the senior policeman but the situation was redeemed when Frazier returned with the bank robber.
‘I was on my way back when I saw him wandering round the streets not far from here. I arrested him and handcuffed him, bringing his back to find out what had happened,‘ stated the police officer.
‘Trenchard let him escape,‘ muttered Marley curtly. ‘Take him to the interview room. I have an idea in mind.’
Frazier led the bank robber to the room and sat opposite him after undoing the handcuffs. ’Okay... let’s have it this time!’ he demanded. ’What’s your real name?’
Hunter stared at the far wall looking away from the police officer. ‘I’m not telling you,’ he replied.
The police officer stared at him for a moment thoughtfully. ‘You‘re not deaf, are you?’ he enquired as Marley entered the room.
‘How do you come to that conclusion?’ asked the senior officer.
‘He’s not reading my lips yet he’s answering my questions,’ returned Frazier.
‘My hearing came back when the other guy let me escape. But you can rest assured I’m not going to answer any of your questions,’ declared Hunter directly.
‘You won’t?’ uttered Marley with a quaint expression on his face.
‘No!’ confirmed the bank robber.
‘Very well. If you won’t talk you might as well go.’
The senior police officer went to the door and opened it. Hunter stared at him suspiciously.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ he thought to himself. ‘Were the police suddenly going soft?’ He lifted himself out of the chair and walked warily to the door expected to be stopped and beaten up but within a few seconds he was out on the street.
‘What did you do that for?’ asked Frazier in bewilderment.
‘I didn’t get where I am today by not using my intuition,’ stated Marley flatly. ‘He’ll go directly to the place where the gang hides out. I want you to follow him. There’s no point in doing anything until they rob a bank but then we’ll know where to go to catch them red-handed with the loot.’
Frazier recognised the value of the decision and went out to his car to follow Hunter to the bank robber’s lair. It was a sprat to catch a mackerel... far better to let one man go in order to catch all of them and he commended his senior officer for devising the bold plan. All he had to do was to follow the bank robber and note where the others met and then wait for them to make their fatal error. They didn’t even have to know which bank was being robbed. All that was necessary was to catch them in possession of the loot!
Frazier followed him in his car making sure that he was always some distance away while Hunter was over the moon having been allowed to go free after being arrested. He was going to Sam’s father’s house but decided to go to the warehouse where the gang usual me. Frazier followed him until the bank robber disappeared into the warehouse and he made a note of the address to take back to Marley at the police station. It was a brilliant idea of the senior policeman to let the robber go and on this occasion it paid off. Now all they had to do was to wait for the gang to rob another bank... any bank... and they would arrest all of them with the incriminating evidence in their possession!
***
Waverley went home at lunchtime on Friday to pack a suitcase for the journey ahead. He felt sick inside even though the operation was practically completed. He could hardly believe that he had purloined all that money from the bank and was still at large without being apprehended. He had almost finished packing when the doorbell rang. He went downstairs to answer the call with his heart in his mouth. Who could it be calling at his home at this time of day? Was it the police or the bank Inspectors who had discovered that there was a shortfall of money in the safe? He opened the door with trepidation only to face the estate agent who had bought the house.
‘Hallo, Mr. Waverley,’ greeted the caller. ‘Sorry to intrude on you without warning. I’ve come to settle the debt. Only it’s completion day. The solicitors are just finalising all the paperwork but you’ve no need to worry about that.’
‘Come in,’ invited Waverley, somewhat relieved.
They walked into the lounge and the banker pointed to the settee indicating that the estate agent shout sit down
‘What’s you poison?’ he asked.
‘Not for me,’ replied the other man. ‘It’s
a little too early.‘ He reached into his pocket to produce an envelope. ‘Here are the two cheques you asked for. One’s for the settlement of the mortgage of the property to the bank and the other’s to Jan de Vries. Is that in order?’
‘Very much so,’ came the reply. He had forgotten about the payment for the sale of the house which meant that he had to make one more journey to the Swiss Bank. To pay it into his account. ‘By the way, you can keep all the furniture if you wish. Most of it is less than six years old there were no children to mess it up.’
‘Fantastic!’ retorted the estate agent. ‘I’ll take you up on that. ‘I’ll be moving in tomorrow morning. My wife can’t wait to get here. Where are you going?’
‘Abroad. Somewhere abroad with a friend.’
‘Well bon voyage and thank you so much for this place. I think I’m going to enjoy living here.‘
‘Thank you,‘ concluded Waverley with an element of sincerity in his voice. ‘I wish you luck!’ he added finally, taking the envelop with the cheques from the man and leading him towards the door. Then under his breath he muttered grimly: ‘It certainly wasn’t lucky for me!’
As he was about to close the door, a taxi drew up and Elizabeth Waverley, his wife, climbed out. Her hair was a mess, she looked dishevelled and the expression on her face indicated that she was under sever stress with red rings around her eyes to show that she had been crying. He stared at her in disbelief never expecting to see her again as she walked up to the door with a painful expression on her face. Clearly she was suffering a dilemma.
‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded sternly, realising that she was out of his system by now.
‘I’ve come back to you, darling,’ she told him audaciously, as thugh she had just been to the local shop to fetch a bottle of milk.
‘Oh no you’re not!’ he growled with anger. ‘What happened to Cole. Is he in police custody?’
‘You don’t understand,’ she bleated ready to continue with a volley of excuses.