‘And Varran carefully looked after his parcel until he left the ship . . .?’
‘That’s right. He was so busy looking after his parcel, that he forgot to take his kit-bag with him and we had to shout him back to remind him.’
‘Did he seem excited?’
‘When he came aboard he’d been running, I think. He was out of breath and red in the face. When he’d gone, Carran and me said we thought he’d been with some woman and stayed a bit over his time.’
‘Can you describe the parcel? Have you any idea what was in it?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine. We hardly saw it. He had it with him in his bunk.’
‘Wasn’t he on watch during the journey?’
‘No. He said he had pains in his stomach and he asked me to take his watch for him. Which I did, after reporting to the mate. I thought Varran had a nerve to ask either of us to stand-in for him after the way he’d behaved to us. He said he was sorry.’
‘And that was all?’
‘Yes. A queer do, but then Varran was a queer chap. We was used to him and what’s the use of holding a grudge against a shipmate? It only makes things awkward.’
Bott stood there, holding himself up against the doorpost and glancing from one to another of the party with shifty eyes. He was still puzzled by the Archdeacon’s presence there.
‘Now, about your escapade in London again, Bott. Did you get the impression that Varran deliberately provoked the row and the fight?’
‘Me and Carran couldn’t understand it at all. There was no sense in it. You’d have thought he was deliberately trying to land himself in gaol. A bit of a scrap is one thing when you’ve got the drink in you. But a broken bottle and then assaulting the police . . . He was asking for it. And he got it. Varran himself was a bit put out at the sentence they gave him, but it seems there’d been a lot of rough stuff going on at the docks at the time and the magistrates said they were determined to stamp it out. The police threw the book at Varran, too.’
‘What reason could Varran have had for wanting to be put in gaol?’
‘Don’t ask me, sir. I said Varran was a queer bloke. One minute all smiles, the next in a hell of a temper.’
‘That will be all then, Bott. Thanks for your help.’
The captain was anxious to see him back at work.
‘All right, then, Bott. You can go.’
The man showed a clean pair of heels, obviously wanting to join his mates and circulate his tale.
For the time being there seemed little else to be gained by discussion with Captain Buckle. He repeated his opinion of Varran, that, as a seaman, he worked hard, but was taciturn and impulsive, resented authority somewhat and was restless and unsettled.
‘Hardly what you’d call a good testimonial, Captain,’ remarked the Archdeacon.
Captain Buckle shrugged his shoulders.
‘They can be as temperamental as they like, sir, provided they work during working hours and keep the ship peaceful and don’t upset the crew. Also, they’ve to obey orders. That’s all. If they’re unsettled, they can’t do anything about it once we’re on the way and if they sign-off when we get to port, there’s always somebody else. I’d never any trouble with Varran.’
They thanked him and left him still brooding in his cabin and made for Grenaby. Knell was anxious to get back to headquarters to deal with reports and routine, but they all agreed that they had better sort out the information they had gathered and Maggie Keggin arrived with tea to refresh them.
‘What do you think, sir?’
Knell asked Littlejohn as though he thought that the Chief Superintendent had already arrived at a conclusion.
‘We seem to have a clearer picture of Varran and his comings and goings before he landed in gaol. On March 23rd, he arrived aboard the Mary Peters in a hurry, flushed and panting from haste. He carried a bundle with him which he didn’t wish his shipmates to see or know anything about. He quarrelled with Carran for merely making a jocular enquiry about it. We can assume that he pretended to be unwell when he was due to go on watch simply to be able to remain with his parcel and protect it. It must have been something valuable and, probably, suspicious or illegal. He paid a short visit to Close Dhoo and then was off very early to join his ship. Isabel says he arrived by taxi. You’d better try to find the taxi driver who took him there and back.’
‘Meanwhile, having hidden his bundle in his father’s hiding place in the bog,’ added Knell, after making a note about the taxi.
‘Exactly. Suppose Varran had committed a crime, say a robbery, and the parcel held the loot. And until the heat was off, he decided to hide it. That theory explains quite a lot of what happened. Now, let’s assume he had an accomplice or more than one in the crime and he’d either made off with the plunder himself or else they’d left him to dispose of it until it was safe to get rid of it and share the spoils. What happened after he’d hidden his precious bundle?’
Knell took the question literally and answered it.
‘He was back aboard early next morning. He was there by seven o’clock. Then back to Preston and on to London, where he got himself gaoled.’
‘According to Bott, Varran almost invited the police to put him in gaol. Why?’
The Archdeacon who had been following the account with deep interest took a turn.
‘It suggests to me that Varran had decided to elude his accomplices and keep the loot himself. He made for the ship, which was almost ready for off. Presumably, someone followed him, but was unable to get at him aboard. Varran knew that they could only follow him by boat or plane early next day. So, he got aboard the Mary Peters again, where he was safe. Thence to Preston, with his friends still after him. He presumably kept aboard until the ship sailed for London. There matters changed. He couldn’t skulk aboard for ever if he found a reception committee of his accomplices waiting there for him. So, he left the ship with his shipmates. There he must have seen his pursuers. What could he do about it?’
Knell gave the Archdeacon an astonished look.
‘You mean to suggest he decided to get himself run-in by the police as the best way out?’
‘Certainly. His accomplices were desperate men, Knell. Remember they eventually murdered Joss Varran. He couldn’t tell his shipmates that he’d committed a crime nor depend on them to join in a rough-house if his pursuers attacked him. Bott told us he seemed anxious to provoke a brawl and even to involve himself in an assault on the police. Varran was completely independent. No wife and family. Only a sister he didn’t care a hoot about. Once in gaol he would be safe, although, it seems, he didn’t expect to be there as long as that. But he overdid it and got a long stretch. He was quite secure from his brothers in crime and, if my information is correct, good food and very modern conveniences now go with prison punishment. The only snag was that the loot was safely hidden so far away and if his partners were tenaciously awaiting him outside, he’d have to run the gauntlet again. Which he did and was killed for his pains. We’ve two problems before we can proceed with certainty. Who were his accomplices and what was in Varran’s precious bag which he protected so fiercely?’
Littlejohn lit his pipe and rose.
‘Mind if I use the telephone? We can, at least, find out if anything exciting in the way of crime occurred in Preston on the night Joss Varran arrived aboard the Mary Peters with what Bott called his pillow-slip. Superintendent Peregrine, of the County Police, and I were on the beat together in Manchester when we were young . . .’
He was not long away and returned smiling.
‘Got it! They didn’t even need to turn up the records. On the date in question three men robbed the Preston Branch of Housmans Bank. They were disturbed, but all three escaped. One of them, who was holding the bag, carried it off with him. It was half-full and contained twenty-five thousand pounds in soiled notes. What a marvellous getaway! A ship ready waiting for off and the man with the bag was one of the crew. It must have been Joss Varran.’
10
Disaster at Ballablock
THE FOLLOWING morning, a sheaf of reports arrived at Douglas headquarters concerning a number of characters connected with the Close Dhoo crime.
The photographs of the Duffys and Quantrell at the veteran car rally had been circulated and information had come in from Preston and Liverpool.
The Duffys were known in Ribchester, a suburb of Preston, whence they had removed to the Isle of Man, presumably in search of cheaper taxation. There had been some doubt about the relationship of the pair of them, but they appeared to have led a quiet life in a nice house in the village. They had, according to local information, arrived in Ribchester from London, where the Colonel had said he had been in the wine trade. Sarah Duffy posed as his daughter, although some of their neighbours thought differently. There was no record at all at Preston about Quantrell.
Superintendent Peregrine, of Preston, was a member of the same club as Williams, the manager of Housmans Bank, who had been the Duffys’ next-door neighbour when they were in Ribchester and he had asked Williams about the Colonel. Williams had reported Duffy to be a good neighbour, a quiet sort, no bother at all. Now and then, Williams and Duffy had a drink together. ‘As a matter of fact,’ Williams had remarked, ‘I called on them when I was staying on holiday on the Isle of Man a year ago last March. Nice place they have there, but a bit too big for them. It’s getting neglected.’ Peregrine had added a final note concerning his informant. ‘A very decent fellow and reliable. Manager of Housmans Bank, in Preston. Quite a large business.’
Littlejohn got in touch with Peregrine over the telephone right away, thanked him for his help and asked a question.
‘Did Duffy and Williams talk banking whilst Williams was visiting him?’
‘I can’t be sure, but I could find out definitely. Williams talks banking most of his time. He’s banking mad. He’d be sure to get on his favourite hobby-horse, especially as Housmans were extending their premises at the time and Williams was excited about it. They were having their old strong-room enlarged and modernised and the main big door hadn’t arrived up to schedule. As the old door had been dismantled, the cash and safe custody was housed in a number of first-class small safes temporarily. It made the robbery so much easier, as there was no strong-room door to open. Just the safes. There were, of course, a clerk and a watchman there on guard and the police called regularly. The robbers arrived just after one of our men had left, and they tied up the two men on watch. Judging from the knots, the man who trussed them up had been a sailor . . .’
‘You’ve no idea who did the job?’
‘Not a thing.’
‘Did you get a description of the men?’
‘Not even that. I suppose they wore the usual stockings over their faces, but they didn’t need them. They weren’t violent. Simply chloroformed the guards before they were even aware of what was going on.’
‘They were disturbed, weren’t they, and got away with only part of the loot?’
‘Yes. Four of the safes held cash. They opened the one controlled by the chief cashier and got away with about twenty-five thousand pounds. The deputy manager happened to make a surprise call on his way home from a dinner and disturbed and scared them off. They got away in the dark and apparently broke up, one of them carrying the spoils. The deputy or the chloroformed men didn’t get a good look at any of them. All the deputy could say was that one of them was big and burly, one was fairly tall and well wrapped up, and the other was medium height, strongly built and was a good runner.’
‘Not a very easy case . . .’
‘No. It’s still unsolved. We haven’t got a clue.’
‘Well, here might be a line worth pursuing. Ask Williams if he told Duffy all about the plans for the new building and, in particular, if he gave him any details about the new strong-room.’
‘I’ll do that and let you know. Surely Duffy wasn’t part of the gang who did it? He was very respectable when he lived in these parts.’
The next report, this time from Scotland Yard, proved that Peregrine had been mistaken.
The Duffy pair had been recognised from the photographs. They had both Duffy and his ‘daughter’ on the files. Her name was Sarah Heron, but she called herself Duffy for convenience. Confidence tricksters, frequently in the best circles, and they had both been in gaol. Bouncing cheques, share pushing, phoney antiques, long-term frauds . . . the lot. They had disappeared from London after their last effort, a bogus charity, for which they had both served time. A very plausible couple, especially the woman, who possessed good looks and charm as well as ingenuity and she seemed quite well-bred.
It appeared to Littlejohn that the Duffys had retired to an isolated spot on the Isle of Man with their ill-gotten gains, but had been unable to resist the Preston bank affair after Williams had talked so enthusiastically about it. It must have, in the beginning, looked very easy and promising, only to finish with Varran scooping the lot and then, when they were after him for their shares, he’d sought a safe refuge for the time being – gaol. No wonder Duffy was drinking and going to seed and Sarah bitter and savage.
Littlejohn was with Knell in his office after perusing the reports.
The Liverpool report on Quantrell was short but to the point. Quantrell had seven years ago been given a sentence of four years for robbing a firm of wine merchants in Bootle. That was the only really serious charge against him and after serving time, Quantrell had subsided and disappeared, either to turn over a new leaf or else to pursue his criminal designs elsewhere. He had, with two others, broken in the warehouse and they had opened and rifled the safe, which contained the wages for the next day, and carried off a considerable quantity of spirits. The criminals had been traced through their untimely consumption and efforts to dispose of the latter. In the course of the case it had come to light that Quantrell had opened the safe. He came of a very decent family and his father had once been a highly esteemed workman in a firm of safe makers, on the strength of which, when he retired to his native land and became a blacksmith, his son had followed in his footsteps until he had served his full apprenticeship. Young Quantrell had lost his job on personal grounds. He had been decidedly left-wing in his politics and had fomented a strike.
‘So there we seem to have one of the Preston gang,’ said Littlejohn. ‘With an operator like Quantrell loose in society, there’s no telling how many other unsolved safe-breaking crimes he’s been involved in. We’d better see Quantrell right away. That makes two of the gang. Quantrell and Varran. Who’s number three? The Colonel? Or even Sarah Duffy?’
There was another contribution from Scotland Yard. They had made enquiries about Varran’s visitors during his spell in gaol and telephoned the results to Knell.
There had been only two of them. Varran had made it plain from the start that he didn’t wish to see anybody from outside. On May 14th, just after his imprisonment, a woman had called and asked for him. She had given the name of Mildred Watson and the prison officials had assumed she was Varran’s girl. He had refused to see her. The officer who had interviewed her remembered what she had looked like. He had thought her what he described as a cut above Varran and, on being shown the newspaper photograph of Sarah Duffy, had said he thought it was she and if it wasn’t it was someone very like her.
The only other visitor had been Sydney Handy, Varran’s brother-in-law, who arrived on September 1st of the same year. Varran had sent for him, saying that he wished to see him on a family matter.
Scotland Yard added a note that they were occupied in finding the whereabouts of Varran’s cell mates, John (Cracker Jack) Jukes and Cliff Larkin. On his release, Jukes had gone to Monte Carlo with his wife, presumably with the help of some hidden loot. During his imprisonment, he had evolved a system which he was sure would break the bank. Was it necessary for someone to pursue him to the Riviera and question him? Larkin was living in Tasman Road, Poplar, and would be interviewed. Report to follow.
And just as Littlejohn and Knel
l were about to leave for Close Dhoo, Peregrine telephoned from Preston to say that he had spoken to Williams, the bank manager, who said quite plainly that he had told Duffy of his building and removal problems connected with the new bank premises and he’d also complained about the current habit of contractors in exceeding the time of completion. He remembered lamenting that even the once meticulous safe makers had let him down and how he was having a lot of trouble and expense in consequence.
‘I asked him if he discussed details of arrangements to tide him over until the strong-room was finally ready. He said Duffy seemed very interested in it all and asked a lot of questions.’
‘And he wasn’t suspicious?’
‘No. He said Duffy actually commented that it all reminded him of some of the crime stories on television. Williams said Duffy was the last man he’d expect to commit such a crime and that he didn’t believe for a moment that he’d had anything to do with it at all.’
It was a fine morning and the drive over the hills and along the mountain road to Ramsey and then on through the straight flat lands with their great leafy trees was indeed pleasant. Knell kept interrupting their professional conversation to point out local beauty spots and places of interest in a proud, wondering manner as though he were seeing the beauty of his native land for the first time. He even commented favourably about the tumbledown Close Dhoo, from the chimney of which the white wood smoke was rising straight into the clear sky.
‘It reminds me of the old days and the old folk. Decent people they were, even though they were poor. Different from this lot with their robbing banks and murdering one another and chasing one another all over the place as if the devil were after them . . .’
The Night They Killed Joss Varran (An Inspector Littlejohn Mystery) Page 12
