A Traitor's Crime

by Roderic Jeffries

  It was Mary and with a start he realised that he had completely forgotten the need to let her know what he was doing. ‘I shan’t be able to get away for a time yet.’

  ‘I’ve cooked a meal and it’s over-ready.’

  ‘I’ll be as quick as I can, but … ’

  ‘Couldn’t you have let me know you’d be so late?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, for the second time.

  After she had rung off, he thought that despite her great courage she could not much longer cope with a family so deeply divided. Pray God that after tonight she would not have to.

  A few minutes later, Astey and Simlex came into the room. Simlex’s face was white and the tic in his right eye-lid was worse than it had been in court.

  Keelton felt himself sweating slightly from the tension of the moment. So much depended on the next few minutes: the happiness and future of so many.

  Simlex broke the silence. ‘Mr Astey said you wanted a word with me, sir,’ he said hoarsely.

  ‘I’m giving you one last chance to make a full confession.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You’ve reached the end of the line. Confess and salvage just a little self-respect.’

  ‘You can’t prove anything.’

  ‘On the contrary … ’

  Simlex interrupted. ‘If you could prove anything, the second trial wouldn’t be going on now.’

  ‘This second trial had to be held to get the real traitor into the witness-box … On oath.’

  Simlex was shocked but he did not yet understand what had happened. ‘What difference does it make?’

  ‘A lie under oath becomes the criminal offence of perjury.’

  ‘But … ’

  ‘Did you realise that you were asked two more questions at this trial than at the first after it had been pointed out to you that you were on oath?’

  Simlex shook his head.

  ‘You were asked if you had ever met Prater and had ever spoken to him. You denied that you had. We can prove beyond any reasonable doubt that you have met and spoken to Prater.’

  ‘How?’ Simlex suddenly demanded and he spoke as if the word had been forced out of him.

  ‘When we knew there was a traitor in the C.I.D we were faced with the basic question of why a man had turned traitor. Money was the most likely answer. But there was no money which could not be accounted for and no man living beyond his known income. Then, after Elwick had been sent to prison, I laid a trap designed to disclose the identity of the true traitor. You fell into it. When we knew you were the traitor, we examined your background again, knowing the answer to why you had become a traitor must be in front of us if only we could see it. That’s when we came back to the hundred and forty-five pounds.’ Keelton’s voice became even more contemptuous. ‘If you hadn’t sold one of the spoons, we might never have reached the truth, but I suppose you had to have some actual money to gloat over. We knew the history of the hundred and forty-five pounds, we’d checked all the facts and the evidence said you’d just been a very lucky collector. But knowing you were the traitor, knowing you’d probably sold the information for money, here was money that might represent part of the bribe. You’d know from experience how often the proceeds of a crime leads to the exposure of the criminal — money is a strangely difficult thing to hide. But you hit on the idea of the spoons. There were five reproduction silver apostle spoons in a junk shop, worth something under five pounds. You sold your information not for cash but for five genuine apostle spoons, which were bought in London. You went into the junk shop, bought the spoons, switched them for the real ones which you then had no hesitation in publicly owning.’

  ‘You can’t prove it.’

  ‘On the contrary, we can, because you overlooked one fact. A firm like Craster and MacDonald are experts, and experts know all about the goods they sell. The marks of each of the five spoons were fully listed by them. Detective Inspector Astey has sworn out a warrant to search your house. If we find the remaining four spoons exactly match the one sold in London, no one is going to call that coincidence … More especially since you claim to have bought the five spoons only two days after they were bought in London.’

  ‘I didn’t buy the spoons.’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’

  ‘Then … ’

  ‘The assistant who sold them remembered one thing about the buyer. He stuttered. So we showed this assistant some photos and one of them was of Prater. It was immediately identified as being of the buyer. You could only have got the spoons from Prater, yet you swore on oath you didn’t know him and had never spoken to him.’

  There was silence. Simlex’s face was screwed up as if he were in agony and his eyes were closed. After a while, he opened his eyes. ‘What … what d’you want?’ he whispered.

  ‘A full confession.’

  There was another, and longer, silence.

  ‘D’you know why I did it?’ said Simlex.

  ‘No, and I don’t bloody well care,’ said Keelton, with angry scorn.

  Simlex spoke wildly. ‘It’s easy for you to act like that. You’ve got big money. I’d only my pay. It was never much and after Betty had her accident it didn’t begin to go anywhere. She became a permanent invalid. She needed special food and special attention and she went on and on at me because I couldn’t afford to give it to her. I’ll tell you something. Her accident was some time ago, but I can just remember what fun our marriage used to be. Since the accident, she’s crucified me with her moanings and groanings. I could’ve … I could’ve murdered her.’

  For the first time, Keelton felt some compassion for this man who was the traitor.

  ‘She wasn’t even a wife. You try living with a wife who isn’t a wife for month after month, living with all your memories … I got so desperate … Then I read that in Switzerland there’s a big surgeon who can sometimes operate on cases like hers and bring relief. Surgeons in Switzerland don’t come on the national health. I tried to borrow the money, but who’s going to lend to a flat-footed detective sergeant? That’s the time when the whisper got through to me — there was money going for letting a mob know about any intended raids. I took the bribe to help my wife and that’s why I sold one of the spoons immediately, not like you said, to gloat over the money.’ He swallowed heavily. ‘Then … then I told Betty I’d made some money on the spoons. I told her about this surgeon in Switzerland who could maybe help her. She wouldn’t go! I’m telling you, she just wouldn’t go. She got scared of not being an invalid any more.’

  It was one of the world’s tragedies, thought Keelton, that a man’s duties could come into such bitter conflict. ‘Who was your contact?’

  ‘Stuttering Joe.’

  ‘You must have dealt with Brierley some time?’

  ‘Never. It was always Stuttering Joe.’

  Keelton stared bleakly down at his desk. He had gambled everything and he had won: yet in winning he had gained no victory because Simlex’s evidence could do no more than inculpate Prater, and Prater would be far too scared to grass on the others. Even now, nothing could be done to stop the mob’s trafficking in drugs.

  It was in the middle of digesting the knowledge of this defeat that Keelton suddenly realised there could be one final irony to this case.

  ***

  Brierley lived in East Hill. His neighbours thought he had a business in London and they envied him because, although rough, he was obviously wealthy.

  Astey and Praden knocked on the front door of the large house. The door was opened and light spilled over them.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ said Brierley. ‘Look who’s ’ere — two of the musketeers. Come right in. Make yourselves at ’ome.’

  They stepped into the hall and Brierley slammed the door shut. ‘What about a drink, eh? Scotch, gin, rum: you name it, I’ve got it. Nothing I like better than giving a copper a drink.’ He winked. ‘Sorry things was like they was last time we met.’ He guffawed. ‘Your faces, when you
saw the packets of tea!’

  ‘I have a warrant for your arrest,’ said Astey.

  ‘What?’ Brierley’s manner changed abruptly. ‘You’re nicking me when you didn’t find nothing but packets of tea? Give over, mate. I ain’t wet behind the ears. I’m not some little punk you can scare silly. I’m from The Smoke. My mouthpiece’ll sort you out, straight ’e will. You didn’t find no drugs … ’

  ‘I’m not arresting you for drug trafficking.’

  ‘You … you ain’t?’

  Astey allowed a little of his deep satisfaction and pleasure to show. ‘You are being arrested on a charge of conspiring with others to charge a man falsely with a crime.’

  Brierley began to swear.

  ***

  When Keelton arrived home, Mary hurried out into the hall. ‘John … John, has something terrible happened? She searched his face.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘But you’re so terribly late.’

  ‘I had a lot of red-tape to slash through.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Is Joanna still up?’

  ‘She’s watching television. What’s happened?’

  He did not answer her, but turned and opened the front door. He waved. Seconds later, Elwick entered the house. Mary stared at him as she might have stared at a ghost.

  ‘She’s in the sitting-room,’ said Keelton, pointing out the door.

  Elwick went into the sitting-room and shut the door.

  Mary tried to speak, but could not find the words. Keelton took hold of her hand. ‘There was one remaining bottle of champagne in the cellar last time I looked. I can’t think there’ll be a better time to drink it.’

  ‘But … ’

  ‘Drinks first, explanations afterwards.’

  ‘John,’ she said, in a shaky voice, ‘I’ve a terrible feeling that I’m going to have to apologise for so many things I’ve said.’

  He smiled. ‘No apologies.’

  She gripped his hand tightly. ‘Even when I believed the worst, I loved you so much it hurt. Now it’s so that I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.’

  ‘That’s rather how I feel,’ he said softly, as he led the way towards the cellar door.

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