Inspector French and the Box Office Murders

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Inspector French and the Box Office Murders Page 10

by Freeman Wills Crofts


  ‘Good.’ Then loudly for the benefit of anyone who might be listening. ‘Well, goodbye, Miss Moran. I’m glad to have had the pleasure of meeting you.’

  He had little doubt that the girl would keep her appointment, but he was not so sure that she would not first communicate with some member of the gang. Therefore, as soon as he was out of sight of the house in the direction she would expect him to take, he turned quickly down a side street, and by making a short detour, regained Nelson Street on the opposite side of the boarding house. Then stepping into a shop, he laid a shilling on the counter and asked if he might use the telephone.

  ‘Scotland Yard speaking,’ he called softly. ‘Please keep a note of any calls from Gerrard 4763C during the next few minutes. Official demand to your headquarters following.’

  He had noticed the telephone in the hall of the boarding house. Luckily for him it was one of the old-fashioned instruments which bore a plate with the words ‘Your number is—’ followed by the digits in question.

  He left the shop quickly, so as to make sure that Miss Moran should not give him the slip. She had not appeared, and once more becoming an aimless lounger, he watched the boarding house door.

  In about ten minutes she emerged and set off down the road. Slowly French followed. But she attempted no excursions aside and within a minute of the time appointed they met in the Gardens.

  ‘Here is an empty seat,’ French said, when he had gravely complimented her on her punctuality. ‘Do you smoke?’

  She accepted a cigarette, which he lit in silence, only continuing when she was comfortably settled.

  ‘Now, Miss Moran, you mustn’t be alarmed, but I have to tell you this is a serious matter that you’ve got mixed up in. And I may tell you too, that your only chance of keeping out of personal trouble is to be frank with me. If you tell me everything, I’ll do my level best for you. But I assure you that I’m not threatening when I say that if you mislead me you’ll bitterly regret it.’

  The girl had evidently been thinking during her walk, and she replied with some show of assurance.

  ‘Och, sure, Mr French, I wouldn’t dream of not being frank with you. But there’s nothing I have to tell.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear you say so,’ French returned, ‘because your face shows me the exact opposite. However, pass that for the moment. Will you tell me why you travel every morning for a few hundred yards in Mr Curtice Welland’s car?’

  The girl’s white face paled still further, but she made no reply.

  ‘Do take my advice, Miss Moran,’ French went on earnestly. ‘I may tell you in confidence it is not you that I want, but Welland. But if you persist in putting me off you’ll be in the same trouble yourself. Believe me, you’re playing a more dangerous game than you know.’

  For a few moments further she hesitated, then said sullenly:

  ‘I’m not doing anything against the law.’

  ‘In that case, Miss Moran, you can’t have any real objection to telling me all about it.’

  ‘You can’t make me say a single word if I don’t want to.’

  ‘Perfectly true. But I can arrest you on a charge of criminal conspiracy with Welland and certain other parties, and the public prosecutor will make you tell in open court at your trial.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t do a thing like that?’ She spoke half coaxingly, but the look of fear flashed again in her eyes.

  ‘Not if you didn’t force me to.’ French leant towards her and spoke very earnestly. ‘Don’t you make any mistake, Miss Moran. It’s my business to get this information and I’m going to get it. And what’s more, you’re going to give it me. You can please yourself whether you do it now or at Scotland Yard or at the Old Bailey. But you’re going to give it to me.’ His voice became coaxing in its turn. ‘Why not now, just privately here between the two of us? I promise to help you and to protect you from your accomplices.’ He paused, then as she did not speak, went on: ‘Do be sensible, Miss Moran. You’ll never get such a chance again. Remember, it would be a hundred times worse in open court with everyone against you.’

  French felt that he was sailing rather near the wind in speaking in this way. His justification to himself was that he was convinced of the girl’s innocence, or rather that if guilty of crime, she had been terrorised into it and wished to escape. But he was not in a position to say this to her in so many words. He remained silent for a few minutes, then just as he was about to resume his arguments, she spoke, her emotion accentuating her brogue.

  ‘I don’t think that’s a fair way you’re speaking to me at all,’ she said in a low tone, ‘but how am I going to stand up against the whole British police? Sure I see that you’ve got me and I’ll have to tell you what you want to know.’

  ‘Believe me, you won’t regret it.’

  ‘Well, then, if you must know, it’s about money,’ she began with a rush, as if, having decided to speak, she was now only anxious to get her recital over. ‘I’ve been hard up for money. And you’ll be saying it’s very wrong and foolish of me, but I’ve taken to gambling to raise the wind. That Mr Welland is a bookmaker. He has a scheme by which you can stake on the tables at Monte Carlo, and you here in London all the time. A girl I met told me about it. That’s what I’m doing in the car. Mr Welland said it was against the law to bet in the street and that his office was too far away, so he would lift me for a moment in his car while he took the money.’

  French could scarcely restrain a chuckle of sheer delight as he listened to this statement. It was even more gratifying news than that the girls with whom Welland was dealing were employed in box offices. For here was actual proof that he really was on the right track! The scheme for betting on the Monte Carlo tables connected the cases. When, therefore, he was investigating the affairs of Curtice Welland, he was on the way to learning who murdered Thurza Darke and her fellow victims. For the second time in two days he experienced that delightful feeling of enthusiasm which came from progress and success.

  At the same time he was puzzled by the girl’s manner. Experience told him that a true confession produced symptoms of relief. But Miss Moran had shown no such feeling. Indeed, she seemed more uneasy and apprehensive than ever. Gradually an opinion crystallised in French’s mind. He had not heard the truth. This story was an invention and the girl was terrified lest he should see through it. A small test, however, should settle the matter.

  ‘Betting may or may not be wise, Miss Moran,’ he said gravely, ‘but it is certainly not illegal and you have nothing to fear from the police because of it. There surely must be something else. Has your betting tempted you towards the till of the Panopticon?’

  For a moment an indignant denial seemed imminent, then a fresh idea appeared to dawn on the girl’s mind and she checked herself.

  ‘Maybe there was something of the kind,’ she said, averting her face as if from shame. But French was certain she was now feeling relief.

  So the little test had worked, and out of her own mouth the girl stood convicted. French’s previous inquiries had proved that she was not stealing from the till. But she had seen that her story lacked motive and to bolster it up she had admitted a theft of which she was innocent.

  The business, then, was even more serious than he had supposed. This girl was willing to risk arrest rather than reveal it. But French saw that for the moment he would get no more out of her, and he set himself to dispel her fears, so that the story she would almost certainly tell to Welland would do as little harm as possible.

  One other point, however, he did learn. At that moment he did not appreciate its importance, but afterwards he saw that its discovery formed an essential link in the chain by which he eventually unravelled the mystery.

  While going over with Miss Moran the places at which she had been picked up and set down, he remembered that she had not been seen to speak to Welland, and asked how she knew where to wait for the car. Without hesitation she told him that five different places had been chosen, which were used in rotat
ion. This avoided stopping at the same place each day, which might be noticeable, and the number five insured a different place being used on the same day of each week.

  ‘For example,’ she said, ‘today I’ll be waiting for him at the corner of Old Compton Street and Greek Street and he’ll run me to Green Street. That’ll give me three or four minutes to fix up about the stakes. Tomorrow I start again where you saw me first, and so on.’

  From such slight threads are the webs of justice woven.

  Before parting with her French became the heavy father. He told her he was satisfied that she was doing something which she would be wiser to leave alone, and though of course she was a free agent, he urged her for her own sake to give it up. At all events, if she found herself in any danger or difficulty she was to apply to the Yard, when he would see that she got the help she needed.

  ‘And don’t wait till it’s too late,’ he concluded earnestly. ‘I don’t want to frighten you, but I warn you very seriously to be careful. Keep this interview secret from Mr Welland. You may be in real personal danger if you don’t. Other girls in your position have been indiscreet and have paid for it with their lives—I’m not exaggerating, Miss Moran—with their lives. So keep your mouth shut, and if you are in any danger don’t hesitate to ring up the Yard—Victoria 7000.’

  She seemed considerably impressed as she gave him her promise. But she had kept her secret and French, despondent over his failure, told himself that his efforts had done nothing more than put the conspirators on their guard.

  He wished her good day, and returned to the Yard. There he sent for no less than five men.

  ‘Three of you men get yourselves up as taximen,’ he told them, ‘and take out cars. The other two and myself will be your passengers. You will stop in sight of the corner of Old Compton Street and Greek Street and watch for a grey saloon car lifting a girl. All of you follow this car. Drive as near it as possible and watch every motion that the girl makes. See if she speaks to the driver and if possible lip-read what she says. After she is set down in Green Street you are finished and can come back to the Yard.’

  This programme was carried out. When Molly Moran appeared at the end of Greek Street three cars were standing before offices in different parts of the street. On the appearance of Welland’s car they started up their engines, and as he moved off they followed. One was slightly in front with its occupant watching out of the back window by means of a periscope, a second was almost abreast while the third ran on ahead to Charing Cross Road, ready to fall into place as Welland turned the corner.

  French’s three drivers showed immense skill in manœuvring their vehicles into places of vantage. During the whole period in which Miss Moran remained in the car, an observer was never more than ten feet away. Sometimes one of the three would be nearest, sometimes another, but none ever left the side of the grey car until the next was ready to take its place.

  The result both pleased and puzzled French. It pleased him because it proved him correct in assuming the story of the gambling to be a fabrication. After a brief good morning, lip-read by Carter, the girl did not speak to Welland during the whole trip, nor did money or letters pass between them. But French was puzzled by what she did. For at least a minute she leant forward and appeared to feel at something at her feet.

  He pondered over this for some time, but could think of no explanation but the obvious one that the girl was putting something into or taking something out of a hidden receptacle. If so, he must inspect the car and find it. Should this be his next step?

  He thought so except for one point. Would it not be better to see first if he could get anything out of the other three girls?

  Eventually he decided that it would. If his inquiries were reported to Welland it could scarcely matter whether it was by one girl or four. If he, French, knew as much as he evidently did know about the movements of Molly, Welland would recognise that he must know of the other girls also.

  Next morning, therefore, he made three calls, in every case unfortunately without result. All the girls showed signs of anxiety, amounting almost to terror on learning his business. But all, after the application of a varying amount of pressure, told the story of the gambling. He was satisfied that each was lying and that the story had been rehearsed beforehand for use in just such an emergency.

  There remained then the search of the car. To arrange an opportunity was not an easy proposition. For a time he considered means of getting it to the Yard, such as the arrest of Welland ‘by error,’ followed by an apology and an immediate release. But he thought that as long as any other way remained, his superiors would not stand for such a method. Besides, if by some remote chance the girls had not reported his activities to Welland, it would put the man on his guard.

  At last he decided that there was nothing for it but for him once again to play the burglar. He must somehow get into the garage at night, when he would have plenty of time to make an exhaustive examination.

  Though he did not see just how he was going to manage it, he decided that the very next day he would make the attempt.

  10

  Mr Cracksman French

  The first step which French took to meet his new problem was to make a reconnaissance of the enemy’s country. He went early next morning to Tate’s Lane, so as to get the job over before Welland should turn up. The gate of the coachbuilder’s yard was open and he walked boldly in and had a look round.

  A closer inspection confirmed the impression of a small, moribund business which the view from the street had suggested. The establishment covered a narrow frontage, but stretched a good way back. In the foreground stood a number of horse carts and lorries, awaiting the scrapheap, if one were to judge by appearances. These with some spare parts filled up all the open space to the high boundary wall on the left, except for a narrow passage to the back of the yard. Along the right ran a grimy brick building from which came the sound of hammering. The only structure with a well-to-do appearance was a new shed of about twenty feet by ten, built as a lean-to in the back left hand corner. Numerous pneumatic tyre tracks leading to the large door in the gable showed that this was Curtice Welland’s garage.

  Though the sounds from the shed indicated that work was there in progress, no one was to be seen in the yard. French therefore strolled close up to the garage to see if he could find a way to break and enter. But the more he saw the less easy this appeared. The building was of solid brickwork with a slated roof. The large door was fastened with the most modern form of chubb lock, against which French knew that his bent wires and skeleton keys would have but little chance. In the side wall was a small window with a fixed sash. The other two sides were formed by the unbroken boundary walls of the yard.

  Thinking he had better not be seen poking about, he turned back to the shed and looked in. Three men were employed, one turning hubs at a small lathe, the other two assembling lorry bodies. On seeing French one of the latter came slowly forward. ‘Morning,’ said French. ‘You the boss?’

  ‘’E’s out,’ the man answered, adroitly expectorating. ‘’Oo want’s ’im?’

  ‘I do,’ French explained. ‘Name of Simkins. I want a garage for a car I’ve got and I was told that you let them.’

  The man shook his head.

  ‘But I thought that garage in the corner was let to an outsider?’

  ‘That’s right. But the boss ’e didn’t ’ave nothing to say to the building. ’E only let the ground.’

  ‘I follow you. Then it’s occupied, is it? I couldn’t get it, I suppose?’

  ‘Not likely, you couldn’t. The man wot keeps ’is car in that garage ’ad it specially built for ’im last year.’

  ‘Any chance of my getting a bit of ground to build another?’

  ‘You’d ’ave to see the boss abaht that,’ the man declared. ‘I couldn’t fix it for you.’

  ‘I want one like that in the corner,’ French persisted. ‘Could I see into it?’

  ‘Not without you got leave fro
m Mr Welland, you couldn’t. ’E keeps the key. See ’ere, mister. You call back ’ere abaht three o’clock an’ you’ll see the boss. ’E’ll tell you all you wants to know.’

  ‘That’s common sense.’ French chatted pleasantly and a couple of shillings changed ownership. Then on his way to the gate he made a bid for the piece of information he required.

  ‘I wonder you don’t get your stuff stolen at night,’ he said, after leading up to the subject by remarks on the spare parts lying around. ‘But then I suppose you have a watchman?’

  ‘We don’t ’ave no watchman. It ain’t necessary. It wouldn’t be so easy for to steal anything as wot you’d think, mister. This is all ’eavyish stuff, and if anyone was to pass it out over the wall, ten chance to one but a bobby’d catch ’em on.’

  In a thoughtful mood French returned to the Yard. By hook or by crook he would examine that car, even if he had to commit a felony. He knew that if he were found out he would get into trouble, but he felt the case had dragged on so long that for his own reputation’s sake he must get results without further delay.

  On reaching the Yard he sent for Sergeant Ormsby. Ormsby had gone through his apprenticeship as a carpenter before he joined the force, and being skilful with his hands, he was in request where delicate manual work was required.

  ‘I want to do a burglary tonight, Ormsby,’ French began. ‘Are you on to give me a hand? I can’t tell you to, but I’d be glad of your help, and if there’s trouble I’ll stand the racket.’

  Ormsby grinned. ‘Right-ho, Mr French. It won’t be the first time.’

  ‘I want to break into a garage. There’s a heavy door with a chubb lock that we can’t do nothing with. But there’s a window that we might get the glass out of. The frame is glazed with a single pane of rough rolled, about eighteen inches by twenty-four.’

  ‘And you want me to take it out?’

  ‘Right first shot. Can you do it, and put it back so’s it won’t be noticed?’

 

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