by John Holt
I told Bates everything that I had learnt at Jerry’s place.
“That’s very interesting,” he said. “Especially the part about the prison sentence, but it’s strange that we never found any details of a police record.”
I had to admit that it was strange. Stranger still we hadn’t found any details with Social Security, or anyone else. The name Susan Brady meant nothing to anyone.
“Maybe we’ve got her name wrong,” I suggested. “Maybe it’s not Brady at all.”
“Could be,” Bates agreed. He paused for a few moments. “I’ll check with Mrs. Walker.”
Somehow I didn’t think Bates would get very far along that route. “I spoke to Mrs. Walker just the other day,” I started to explain. “I had to remind her of the dead woman’s name, which I thought was a bit odd.”
“Go on,” said Bates.
“Well there’s not much more to tell,” I continued. “Except that I told her that the woman’s name was Susan Brady, and all that she said was, yes I remember now.”
“She never queried the name?” Bates asked.
“No, not at all, she just accepted it,” I replied.
“And you say that they were seen drinking together, in Jerry’s place?”
“That’s right, it was just a few short months ago,” I replied. “Incidentally how did we decide that was her name anyway?”
“That’s easy,” replied Bates. “Her name was written on that envelope we found in her handbag, remember.”
Sure, I remembered. It was the only item of identification there was. “I’m thinking that it was deliberately planted by the murderer,” I suggested.
“And I’m betting you’re right,” said Bates. “So we’ve still no idea of her real name then.”
“Right,” I replied, and heaved a sigh. “So have we got anything? Have we found the murder weapon?”
“Afraid not,” replied Bates.
“What about the shoe? Has that been found yet?” I asked, not really expecting a result.
“Yes, that’s one piece of good news. We’ve found the other shoe,” Bates replied. “It was discovered by some guy walking his dog. Well it was the dog that actually found it. Earlier today, round about eleven o’clock. The guy gave us a call at about a quarter after.”
I wondered why someone should find a shoe and immediately contact the police. It wouldn’t be my first call I can tell you.
“It wasn’t the shoe that attracted his attention,” Bates explained. “It was the pool of blood lying next to it. He called 911. The interesting thing is he also found a blood soaked cufflink. I’m guessing that it belonged to the murderer. Probably came off during the struggle.”
“Struggle?” I said.
“It certainly looks like she put up quite a fight.”
I don’t know what you think, but I find that very sad. I mean murder is murder whatever way you look at it. I know that. There’s nothing good about it, no way. But somehow knowing that the victim knew about it makes it that much worse. To actual know somebody was out to kill you, and you don’t maybe know why. You put up a fight, you’re desperate to survive. It doesn’t bear thinking about.
“Where was this?” I asked.
“Chantry Woods, do you know it?”
I knew it. It was a popular place for ramblers, and dog walkers. “Not far from the Walker place, if memory serves,” I replied.
“That’s right,” said Bates. “It’s just a mile or two from Honeysuckle Way.”
“You know what I’m thinking,” I said. “Walker is our killer.”
“Could be,” said Bates. “He certainly had the motive. Anyway we’re going over there now to have a few words with him. Care to join us?”
“Try and stop me,” I said. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
I hung up. I looked at the clock. It was two forty. I picked up what was left of my lunch. That’ll do the cat, I thought.
You know about the cat don’t you? You don’t! Right, well I should say straight off, that it’s not actually my cat. I can’t have pets, not where I am. It wouldn’t be fair, besides the landlord won’t allow it.
Anyway we have a stray cat here at the office. Well actually she lives in the yard at the rear. She’s a big fluffy ginger cat with white paws. We call her Ginger. Yes I know, it’s not very imaginative, but it was the best we came up with.
Not that she belongs to us you understand. She sort of adopted us. She doesn’t have a collar, or a microchip, or anything like that, so we don’t know where she came from. We’ve never seen any posters stuck up about a missing cat. So it looks like she doesn’t have an owner.
She just turned up one day, a couple of months ago, and she’s stayed ever since. I don’t know why, something to do with the fact that we started to feed her I guess. Anyway she seems happy enough judging by the way she purrs, and she’s doing alright. So she gets her food, shelter, and a friendly stroke once in a while. What more does she want?
* * *
As I came out from the back door, there she was. Someone had provided a new box for her, out of the draft, together with an old blanket. She looked comfortable enough all curled up nice and warm, and sound asleep. She stirred as I placed the remainder of my four cheese pizza down in front of her, next to a bowl of milk someone had left. She looked at it, and then turned around and went back to sleep.
I made a mental note to lodge a complaint at Mama Dells. Clearly there weren’t enough olives.
* * *
Two-two-four Honeysuckle Drive was one of those houses. You know the type. They take up six city blocks and you need a cab to get from one end to the other. Okay so I’m exaggerating, a bit. Alright so it’s more than a bit. But it is a big house. I’m guessing fifty rooms, or something like that. It was big enough for Mr. and Mrs. Walker anyway. Mind you, it’s just as well they never had kids. Could have been a bit cramped then.
The house just cried out money, and lots of it. I guessed that the house represented more cash than several small countries put together. My old car parked in the driveway, next to the Mercedes, and the Cadillac, did nothing for appearances.
The door was answered on the third ring by a grey haired retainer. I guessed he was a James, or maybe a Charles. Have you noticed that, most butlers are Charles, or James. Odd that, not that I’m an expert on butlers you understand, it’s just what I’ve seen in the movies.
Anyway, whatever his name was, asked who we were. “Can I help you gentlemen?” he said.
Detective Bates stepped forward, showing his badge. “We’d like to see Mr. Walker,” he said.
The butler stood to one side, and allowed us to enter into a large hallway. Did I say large? I guessed my entire apartment would fit into that space, and there’d still be room to spare.
“I’ll see if he is available,” said James. “Kindly wait there.”
He pointed to a precise spot. I couldn’t see anything special about it, but guessed he knew what he was talking about, so I moved into position. Where Bates was going to wait I neither knew, nor cared. James went into one of the rooms opposite. The library or perhaps it was the lounge, or maybe the morning room, who knows.
Okay so I’m still trying to guess what room it was, when the door opens. The butler is standing at the doorway. “Show them in, Thomas,” a voice called out.
Okay so it wasn’t James. What you going to do? Make a federal case out of it.
* * *
Chapter Ten
Just A Few Questions
Thomas remained at the open door and ushered us into the room.
“Do come in gentlemen,” Walker said, as he stood up to greet us. “Please, take a seat.” He indicated the sofa.
“I’m Detective Bates, and this is Jack Daniels a local private detective,” said Bates as he sat down.
Walker nodded and looked at me. “I know Mr. Daniels,” he said. “We’re old friends aren’t we? Although I didn’t think I’d be seeing you for a while.”
Bates looked puzzled, and looked at m
e. I merely smiled.
“It’s good to see you again,” I said. I was tempted to ask whether he had received my report, and my bill, and could I look forward to a check real soon. I decided against.
“Thank you for seeing us at such short notice,” said Bates.
“I’m always happy to assist our police force,” Walker replied. “Can I get you some tea?”
I would have preferred something stronger, but tea would have to do. And some cream donuts would be good.
“No tea, thank you,” Bates replied.
Guess there wasn’t going to be any tea then.
“Alright Thomas, we shan’t need you any further,” Walker said, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll ring if I need you.” He then turned back to face us. “So, what can I do for you?”
“It’s about the body that was recently found in Battery Park,” Bates started to explain. “You may have read about it.”
Walker nodded. “Yes I did, but what has this got to do with me?”
“Just a few questions that I hope you can help me with,” Bates replied. “We shan’t keep you too long.”
“Alright officer, carry on,” said Walker.
“It’s about Susan Brady,” Bates explained.
“The one they found dead in the Park the other day,” said Walker. “It’s simply dreadful. What a world we live in.”
“I understand that the lady had been blackmailing you,” Bates continued. “Demanding payment from you for keeping silent about something?”
Walker nodded. “Your information is correct,” he replied.
“And you never reported it to the police,” said Bates. “Would you care to tell me about it now?”
Walker shook his head. “With the lady dead it hardly seems necessary now.”
Bates decided to leave to one side, and heaved a sigh. He placed a single cufflink on to a side table. “Have you ever seen that before?” he asked.
Walker picked it up and looked at it for a few moments. “I think I have a pair just like it,” he replied. “Why do you ask?”
Bates pointed at the cufflink. “That was actually found at the murder scene.”
Walker looked at the cufflink for a few moments longer, and then handed it back to Bates. “Is that supposed to mean something as far as I’m concerned,” he replied. “I imagine dozens of men, perhaps hundreds, have similar cufflinks. It’s a fairly common design.”
Bates nodded. “Yes sir, it is, and I imagine that you are correct. I’m sure that many men have that same design,” he said. “Nonetheless, could I see your set, please?”
Walker looked puzzled. “Why on earth would you want to see my cufflinks?”
“If you could just fetch them, sir,” Bates insisted.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” replied Walker. “Do you have a warrant?” he asked, and then shook his head. “Never mind, I’ll get them.”
He then stood up and walked over to the door. He opened it, and stepped into the hallway. “Ah, Thomas, could you please bring down my case containing my cufflinks, you know the one. The police seem very anxious to see them.”
A moment or two later he returned to his seat. “Thomas won’t be long,” he said. “Was there anything else?”
“Do you know Chantry Woods?” I asked.
“Yes I know Chantry Woods,” Walker replied. “They are about a mile, mile and a half, from here. Why do you ask?”
“Do you ever go there?” Bates asked, ignoring Walker’s question.
“Yes, I often go there,” Walker replied. “I take my dogs there two or three times a week. Why?”
“Because that’s where Miss. Brady was murdered,” I replied.
“And you think I had something to do with it, is that it?” replied Walker angrily.
“You had a good motive,” I said. “Blackmail is always a good reason for killing someone.”
“At this stage, Mr. Walker, I don’t think anything,” said Bates interjecting. “At present all that I am doing is making enquiries, you understand. So if you could just answer the question.”
Okay so that was Frank’s view, the official position, but I thought differently. Walker was my number one suspect. More than that, I was convinced of his guilt. Alright, I admit we still lacked proof, but everything was beginning to fit together, and everything was pointing at him.
At that moment the door opened, and Thomas returned. He was holding a black leather case. He handed it to Walker who opened it and started to search through. After a few minutes he looked over to Bates. His face was white, and he was sweating.
“What’s the problem, Mr. Walker?” Bates asked.
Walker looked back at the box and shook his head. “I don’t understand it.”
“What don’t you understand, sir?” asked Bates.
Walker shook his head once more, and looked over at Thomas. “There’s only one cufflink here. How can that be?”
Thomas shook his head. “I’ll look upstairs, sir. It may have fallen behind the wardrobe, or somewhere,” he said as he left the room.
“Right, it may have fallen,” I repeated. “These things happen.”
A few minutes later Thomas returned, shaking his head. “I’m afraid I can’t see it anywhere, sir.”
“Perhaps you lost it out somewhere,” Bates suggested.
“Perhaps in Chantry Woods,” I added.
Bates glared at me, and stood up. “I shan’t delay you any longer, sir,” he said. “Thank you for your assistance.”
I stood up and looked at Bates, just wondering exactly what help Walker had been.
Walker stood up. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help,” he said. “Thomas will see you out.”
* * *
“You know Frank I’m convinced that Walker killed that woman,” I said as we walked back to the cars.
Bates nodded. “I agree with you, but we just need to prove it. He certainly had a good motive.”
“And the opportunity,” I added. “And it definitely looks like his cufflink puts him at the murder scene, so what else do you need?”
Bates shook his head. “I hear what you say, but anyone could have left that cufflink there.”
I started to smile. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Are you suggesting that it could have been Mrs. Walker, or even Thomas?”
“No, that’s not exactly what I meant, although it’s possible,” Bates replied. “No, what I meant is that there must be hundreds of guys with the same type of cufflinks.”
I nodded. “I’m sure that you’re absolutely right,” I said. “But they weren’t all being blackmailed by the murdered lady were they?”
* * *
Chapter Eleven
Denis Walker Is Dead
I just couldn’t understand it. Why had Bates let Walker off the hook like that? I mean so easy. I was convinced of his guilt. He had the motive, the opportunity, and, as far as I was concerned, that cufflink certainly put him at the scene of the crime. Precisely what more did Bates need? Okay, okay, it was all circumstantial evidence, and he lacked the proof. I accept that. But there was more than enough to bring Walker in, and really question him at the Station house.
If only the forensic guys would turn up some more evidence at the murder scene. There must have been something. Fingerprints, tire marks, or fibers, anything. The murder weapon would be good.
I had visions of Walker getting away with it. You know I’m not usually vindictive, but in this case I’d make an exception. I mean the guy was just no good. Cheating on his wife like that, and because he had money, lots of it, he would probably get away with murder. Okay so blackmailing is hardly a noble cause, but nonetheless Miss. Brady didn’t deserve to die.
Suddenly the telephone rang. It was Bates. “Hi Frank, I was just thinking about you. How’s it going?” I asked.
“We’ve just had a call from Thomas,” he said.
Thomas,” I repeated. “You mean Walker’s butler? That Thomas?”
“Denis Walker is dead,” Bates repl
ied. “Murdered, a couple of hours ago we think.”
“What?” I cried. “Say again.”
“I said that Denis Walker has been murdered. Thomas has just found his body by the garages,” Bates explained. “He has been stabbed to death.”
“Just like the other one,” I said.
“That’s right,” agreed Bates. “Just like Brady. And I’m guessing that it was probably the same knife.”
“It must have been the blackmailer,” I murmured.
“What did you say?” asked Bates.
“I was guessing that it might have been Brady’s partner,” I suggested.
“Why would he want to kill him?” asked Bates. “It doesn’t make sense to me. Why would you kill someone who was paying you money?”
I thought for a few moments.
“Well Daniels?” Bates asked again. “Why? Tell me.”
“Just a second,” I replied. “Let me think this out.” I paused for a few moments. “Okay, how’s this. Let’s say that Walker knew the guy, and recognized him, so Walker had to be silenced.”
“I’m not convinced,” replied Bates. “Besides I thought you had decided that after Brady’s death there wasn’t a blackmailer anyway. Something about Walker not contacting you and not seeming to be that bothered, I believe you said.”
“So maybe I was wrong,” I replied. “Maybe Brady did have a partner after all. And maybe he got greedy, and decided that he didn’t need her. So he kills her, and he plants a few things to throw suspicion onto Walker, alright so far?”
“I guess so,” replied Bates, far from convinced. “It’s possible.”
“Then he decides to continue with the blackmailing. He turns up to collect, and Walker sees him. It wasn’t meant to happen, but it does, so Walker has to be killed. What do you think? It makes sense to me.”
“Could happen that way, I guess,” Bates reluctantly agreed. “But we still don’t know who the guy was though do we?”
* * *
Mrs. Amanda Walker, and Thomas, were waiting for us as we arrived. Clearly she had been crying. Okay so he was a louse, a piece of junk, but he was still her husband, and no one deserves to be murdered. I walked towards her, holding out my hand. She looked up, took my hand, and tried to smile. “Oh, Mr. Daniels I just can’t believe it,” she said. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”