The Barker's Dozen - Reminiscences of an Early Police Dog

by Robert Warr

  ‘When did the coal merchant arrive?’

  ‘I can’t be sure, sir,’ the girl replied. ‘I was cooking Mrs Baker’s breakfast so it must have been about quarter past ten.’

  ‘Thank you,’ my master said. ‘You have been extremely helpful. We know that Jamie disappeared after the grocer’s boy came but before eleven o’clock. During this interval, the coal merchant made a delivery. Did you see anyone else during this time?’

  ‘Only Daniel,’ the girl said. ‘He was working next door, in Major Lawrence’s garden, and I spoke to him briefly over the fence.’

  ‘Daniel?’

  ‘Daniel Morris,’ Mrs Baker interrupted. ‘He acts as a gardener and handyman for several of the houses in the area. I believe that Emily has an understanding with him.’

  The girl blushed as we all turned to look at her. My master smiled at her.

  ‘Tell me about Daniel and your understanding,’ he asked nicely.

  ‘Daniel and I intend to become engaged and get married as soon a possible. We are trying to save sufficient money to marry next summer. When we’re wed, we hope to find a good position in the country with someone who wants a couple to do for them.’

  ‘When did you speak to him?’

  ‘I had just served Mrs Baker’s breakfast and I knew that I had about ten minutes before she rang for me, so I nipped outside and called to Daniel. I wanted to see if he could meet me when I took Jamie for his evening walk. I wouldn’t normally consider doing such a thing but I kept thinking about being followed this morning.’

  ‘Thank you; you can go,’ my master said standing up. ‘I will probably want to speak to you again after I have spoken to both Constable Higgins and your friend. Is Daniel still next door?’

  ‘No, sir,’ the girl said. ‘He told me he would be spending most of this afternoon at number forty-two.’

  Your uncle took our leave of Mrs Baker while Sergeant Allen spoke with Emily and compiled a list of all Mrs Baker’s tradesmen. My master took care to reassure Mrs Baker and promised to keep her informed. Once outside, your uncle decided that we would speak to Daniel Morris next, followed by the coal merchant.

  I must admit that I had great hopes for our interview with Daniel. If, as Emily said, he was very fond of her I thought that he would have kept glancing at Mrs Baker's house in the hope of seeing his girl. Since the eye is drawn by movement, there was a very good chance that he would have seen the abductor. On the other paw, there was a chance that Daniel and Emily had stolen the dog, although I did not believe it very likely.

  We arrived at number forty-two to find a good looking young man working in the front garden.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ my master called to him. ‘Are you Daniel Morris?’

  ‘I am,’ the young man responded, walking towards the gate. ‘And who are you?’

  ‘Inspector Thompson and Sergeant Allen of Scotland Yard.’

  As my master spoke, I saw a quick flash of panic cross Daniel’s face.

  ‘I saw you go into Mrs Baker’s house. Has someone been hurt? Is Emily all right?’

  He was very worried, almost to the extent of overreacting.

  ‘Calm yourself. Everyone is quite well.’ My master paused for a moment before continuing. ‘Why did you think Emily might have been hurt?’

  ‘Someone was following her when she took Mrs Baker’s dog out this morning. I thought that he might have broken in.’ Daniel shrugged. ‘If everything is alright, why do you want to talk to me?’

  As my master told Daniel about the kidnapping of Jamie, I became aware of a magpie sitting in the branches of one of the shrubs. I have not liked these birds since that business at Maygrove. However, I was struck by the way the bird seemed to be following the conversation.

  ‘How long were you working in Major Lawrence’s garden this morning?’ I heard my master ask Daniel.

  ‘I did three hours between eight and eleven o’clock and then had a quick bite to eat before coming here for the afternoon.’

  It was obvious that Daniel's anxiety had disappeared as soon as he knew that Emily was unharmed. I could not smell any trace of fear or worry about Daniel and it was obvious to me that he was not the villain and would not decide to run, an activity that I have foiled more than once by dashing in front of the criminal’s legs. As I have always maintained, owning a Spaniel is a positive advantage for any police officer. Having reached this conclusion I settled myself comfortably on the ground and listened to the humans talk.

  ‘As you can appreciate,’ my master said. ‘You may be a very important witness. Did you see anything strange that might have been linked to Jamie’s disappearance?’

  ‘No sir, it was a very ordinary morning. I think I would have noticed something like that because I am always hoping that I will see Emily.’

  ‘Did you see anyone call at the house, between nine and eleven?’

  ‘Only the normal tradesmen, sir.’ Daniel frowned, and then continued slightly apologetically, ‘I can’t be precise about the times because I do not have a watch. I do however listen for the chimes of the clocks.

  ‘The grocer’s boy arrived first; I believe that he had already gone by the stroke of nine thirty. The coal merchant made a delivery sometime after ten o’clock and then delivered to Major Lawrence. Then Emily came outside to talk to me, and once she had finished I had a quick look up and down the road to see if I could spot anyone lurking.’

  ‘Did you see anyone suspicious?’

  ‘No, sir,’ Daniel replied. ‘If I had, I would have had words with them. I was starting to clear up when I saw the butcher’s boy arrive.’

  ‘The butcher’s boy,’ said your uncle with a quickening of interest. ‘Tell me about him?’

  ‘I noticed him because he had rested his basket on the wall and seemed to be sorting through its contents. I was just about to ask him what he wanted when he picked up his basket and entered Mrs Baker’s property.’

  The conversation paused as a rather officious-looking gentleman came bustling out of the house, obviously intent on finding out what my master wanted.

  ‘He did it, you know,’ an unexpected voice said on my right.

  I turned my head and found myself looking up at the magpie, who had hopped out of the shrubbery and was now standing near my head, but not within range of a sudden snap. I glanced back at the householder: he didn’t look like a kidnapper but appearances can be deceptive.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked in a near whisper so that I didn’t distract the men and warn the villain of my presence.

  ‘The butcher’s boy stole the little dog. I saw it clearly.’

  Now that I thought about it, the householder was obviously a pillar of the local community. After a few seconds of silence I realised that the bird was not going to say anything else unprompted. I raised my ears in a questioning manner, and stared pointedly at the bird. The magpie, obligingly, continued with his account.

  ‘I always keep an eye out for the butcher’s boy. I always hope that when he is talking to someone he will forget about his basket. A quick swoop and grab might one day yield great results. The usual butcher’s boy is always very conscientious so I was pleased to note that the butcher had sent another lad.

  ‘When I saw him place his basket on the wall I thought that I might have a chance to grab something, so I flew into the shrubbery and chose a perch where I could stare into the basket.

  ‘You can easily imagine my disappointment when I saw that it was empty except for a folded cloth and a small piece of meat. I was just about to fly away when I noticed something rather strange.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  The bird looked at me in a rather appraising manner before coming to a decision that pleased him.

  ‘I’ll tell you,’ he said, ‘if you promise me that the little dog will always leave a few scraps of meat in his bowl for me.’

  It seemed to be a very small price to pay for an eyewitness account of a kidnapping, and anyway it wasn’t my supper I was ba
rgaining with, so I agreed on the spot.

  ‘I realised,’ continued the bird, ‘that although his hands were busy in the basket, he was actually watching the old lady in the front room. I could see her clearly eating a meal, the lamp light reflecting off her silver napkin ring. It came to me in a flash: I was watching a predator stalking his prey. For a moment I was outraged. He was after the napkin rings! I haven’t watched those rings, chick and bird, to see a human steal them before I get a chance.’

  I decided that a slightly admonishing bark was in order before my witness became a suspect for other unrelated crimes. Doing this job does bring you into contact with the very dregs of society.

  ‘Sorry,’ said the bird, contritely. ‘Just as I was starting to get quite worked up about this man. I saw the old lady ring a little bell and the younger woman entered the room. The butcher’s boy picked up the basket and made his way through the tradesman’s gate into the garden. I must admit I was curious; so I quickly flew up to the eaves of the house where I would get a good view.

  ‘There is a stretch of the path, as it runs down the side of the house, where a visitor is not overlooked. It was here that the little dog met the butcher’s boy. The dog didn’t bark but just wagged its tail and ran up to him. The boy knelt down and stroked the dog before giving it the small piece of meat. While the dog was eating, the man took a little bottle from his pocket that he poured over the cloth in the basket. Then he grabbed the little dog and pushed it into the basket, holding its head close to the cloth. The dog stiffened and then went limp. The butcher’s boy closed the basket and went.’

  ‘Did you see anything else?’ I asked. Then inspiration hit me: ‘What did he do with the little bottle?’

  ‘The bottle,’ moaned the magpie, somewhat theatrically I thought. ‘I don’t even want to think about the bottle.’

  There comes a time in every investigation when you have to act tough. I dropped my ears flat, bared my teeth and growled very gently.

  ‘Ah yes, the bottle,’ the magpie continued in a much more co-operative tone. ‘As he left, the man threw it into the shrubbery. I could see it glinting. Thinking that it looked pretty and might beautify the old nest. I flew down to have a quick look. As I approached it, I came over all funny. I could feel my legs buckling and my wings drooping. Naturally, I decided to fly for it; unfortunately, I flew straight into a branch that I just didn’t see. It knocked me senseless.’

  I could see that my master had nearly finished talking with Daniel and the householder so I decided to ask one final question.

  ‘You are obviously a bird with very keen eyes,’ I said, knowing that most witnesses like to be flattered. ‘Did you see where the butcher’s boy took the dog?’

  ‘Sorry,’ said the bird. ‘I didn’t see anything. It must have been a good fifteen minutes before I recovered my senses sufficiently to fly in a straight line and I was seeing double for a while after that.’

  I felt my ears droop in disappointment. For a second or two I had thought that I might have been hot on the trail.

  ‘I didn’t see where he went,’ the bird said, in what can only be described as a superior tone, ‘but I didn’t need to. The man is one of the cook’s fledglings and I believe that he still lives with her.’

  With that snippet of news, the bird reminded me of our agreement and then took wing.

  I had solved the case; I was, however, left with a big problem. How was I going to tell my master?

  I was still trying to resolve this conundrum when the men finished their conversation and my master and Sergeant Allen took their leave.

  It had started to get dark as the evening came on. This, coupled with the fog, which was thickening again, made this part of London a very depressing place.

  My master and Sergeant Allen decided to walk to the butcher’s and question the delivery boy. Any further investigations would depend on the lad’s answers. I was pleased to see that your uncle had noticed that discrepancy between Daniel and Emily’s statements. With any luck, I would not be called upon to tell him myself.

  I was lost in my thoughts when a stray scent brought me to my senses. Our route was taking us past Mrs Baker’s villa. If the magpie was telling the truth, we were walking past a piece of material evidence.

  ‘Woof,’ said I, in an imperious tone, while adopting that ridiculous pointing posture so beloved of certain gun dogs.

  My master stopped instantly, and seeing my pose, crouched down by me, and stared intently into Mrs Baker’s garden. I think that he does this to lower his sight line to my level so that he can see whatever I have spotted; it very rarely works, but it is nice when your people have amusing little tricks.

  ‘What is it, boy?’ he asked, placing an arm round my neck.

  ‘Woof,’ I repeated.

  ‘Show me.’

  At that, I was into Mrs Baker’s shrubbery like a dog after a rabbit. I couldn’t see the bottle anywhere, so I cast about sniffing frantically. Just as your uncle pushed into the shrubbery, I caught a whiff of a sharp chemical smell and looking up, saw a small bottle caught in the branches of a laurel. I pointed to the bottle and watched, with, I admit, a certain amount of satisfaction, as my master recovered it.

  We rejoined the sergeant before your uncle examined the bottle.

  ‘Ether’, he said, identifying the smell. ‘It must have been used to keep Jamie quiet. The label says that it came from Richard’s, which is apparently a local pharmacy. I think we will visit Richard’s after seeing the butcher.’

  As a Spaniel I have never minded getting wet; in fact it’s a condition that I positively enjoy. Water makes you wet, clean and happy; fog, on the other paw makes you damp, cold and very miserable. In the country, fog can be a lot of fun; but in town, it only serves to hide the ungodly and to coat one in soot. I therefore trudged morosely behind my master as he led off towards the local shops.

  I must admit that I was starting to think longingly of my warm hearth-rug, when my master turned into a lighted shop. My mood was much improved when I realised that we had entered a butcher’s shop. I gazed at all the plaster models of the joints that this butcher sold and realised that I was somewhat hungry. It was the work of a moment to sit down and adopt the most pathetic physiognomy that I could manage. Keeping my eyes firmly on the butcher’s face, I essayed a small wag of the tail whenever he glanced in my direction. Given enough time, this tactic always earns some scraps.

  The butcher was a cheerful man in his late forties who seemed to be generally pleased to see us, an attitude that persisted when he discovered that my master was a policeman rather than a customer.

  ‘I would like to have a quick word with your delivery boy,’ my master began, after we had finished the usual greetings.

  ‘I am really impressed. Constable Taylor told me that the police would investigate, but I didn’t think that the crime would rate so famous an inspector.’ The butcher rubbed his hands on his apron. ‘But as I told the constable this morning young Paul is still recovering at home.’

  I very rarely see my master at a loss for words and this wasn’t one of those times.

  ‘In that case, I would appreciate it if you could go through what you told the constable this morning. Assume that I know nothing about the incident; in that way you will tell me everything.’

  You have to admit it, but my master is good. He manages to project an air of confidence and knowledge even when he is completely baffled. I have seen criminals break down and admit to things that we weren’t even investigating just because the villain assumed that your uncle already knew.

  ‘My son, Paul, is learning the butchery trade and will hopefully join me in my business. He does general work around the shop and makes all the deliveries.

  ‘Early this morning, Paul had just left to make his first deliveries. He was taking a short cut through the alleyway at the end of the parade when he heard someone coming up behind him. As it was very foggy, he was initially concerned and turned round to see who was approaching. A
young man loomed out of the fog and said, “Good morning, Paul.” My son, naturally reassured, even though he could not recognise the man, who was wearing a muffler, responded in kind and turned to continue on his way.

  ‘As far as he remembers, someone then hit him across the back of the neck. He woke up a short while later to find that someone had stolen his cap, apron and basket. The strange thing was that most of the parcels of meat had been tipped out before the thief made off with the basket.’

  ‘Paul gathered up the parcels and was making his way back to the shop when my brother-in-law saw his predicament and came to his aid.’

  ‘Your brother-in-law?’ interjected my master quietly.

  ‘Tom Ashton- he’s the grocer two doors down. He brought my son back to the shop and arranged for his boy to do my deliveries as well as his own. I closed the shop for a short while and took Paul, home where his mother is looking after him.’

  ‘Can you think of anyone who might attack your son?’

  ‘No, inspector, it’s a complete mystery to me. The only explanation I can think of is that it was a prank by one of the local lads that went wrong.’

  ‘Thank you. I may need to come back and talk to Paul tomorrow.’ My master shook the butcher’s hand. ‘I will keep you informed of any progress that we make.’

  We left the shop and my master decided that we would walk to the local police station to see if we could find Constable Taylor and a good cup of tea. As we walked, your uncle and Sergeant Allen discussed the case. It was obvious that they were baffled and I realised that the magpie’s evidence was crucial if we were going to save Jamie. I was going to have to tell my master.

  This is a major problem for me. I would like to discuss matters openly with him but I promised my mother that I would never tell anyone that I could talk. It leads to work. Consider me now: in a moment of anger I let slip the fact that I can speak, and rather than sleeping by the fire, I am forced to tell you stories. However, I digress. Back to the case.

  Quickly I ran through the possibilities and a solution to the problem occurred to me. I would have to be quick and there was a chance that my master would realise what was happening. I looked across the road and realised that I couldn’t see the pavement on the other side. For the first time that day, I blessed the fog, without which I would have been forced into a direct conversation.