Inspector Moore and the Body Behind the Flats

by S G Read

  As time was getting on Rebecca drove him home. This time Rebecca stayed for a meal, she knew Clayton was a good cook as she had eaten his food before. They spent a comfortable evening together as just a man and a woman, then, as usual Rebecca drove home to her flat.

  The next week passed by without further news. The chief inspector had started making noises about putting the cases in the cold case files but Clayton had not failed to solve a case yet and he was not about to start now.

  ‘No sign of a Rolex for sale,’ Rebecca announced at the end of the week, ‘not in pawn shops or at jewelers, sir.’

  ‘Try auction houses then, if it was a real Rolex must be worth sending to auction.’ Clayton answered.

  That proved to be a longer task and she made notes so that she could surf the internet while she was at home in the evening. There were a lot of auction sites, both on line and live. An hour later Rebecca turned her computer off and drove Clayton home, then went home herself. At ten o’clock the phone rang while Clayton was reading a case file.

  ‘I found one!’ A voice cried down the phone line.

  ‘Do I know you?’ Clayton asked even though he recognised the voice.

  ‘I found a Rolex on the internet,’ Rebecca declared, ‘and don’t pretend you don’t know who it is!’

  ‘I thought you went home?’ Clayton replied.

  ‘I have a computer at home, sir.’ She answered. ‘I searched for Rolex’s on the internet and found one at Chiswick Auctions.’

  ‘Well done but now you can treat yourself to some home life for the rest of the evening.’

  ‘How kind, sir and what were you doing?’

  ‘Reading a case file.’ Clayton admitted.

  ‘Leslie Felltham?’ Rebecca asked.

  ‘Correct.’ Clayton answered and put the phone down.

  In the morning Rebecca drove them to the office but they went via Chiswick auctions to look at the Rolex.

  ‘We need to see the Rolex you have in the auction.’ Rebecca Announced when the auctioneer arrived to speak to them.

  ‘It is a kosher lot, we did check with the manufacturer.’ He answered. ‘It is not on any stolen property list. Even though it is not listed as being owned by the seller it was not stolen.’

  ‘Well we still need to see it,’ Clayton declared, ‘we also need the owner’s name and address.’

  ‘I’ll get it for you.’ The auctioneer replied and hurried off to get the information for them.

  Rebecca wrote it all down in her little book and checked the number against the list of recent sales she received from Rolex.

  ‘It could be the one, sir, a cash sale from the local jewelers to a Mr. Brown, possibly not his real name.’

  ‘Still not concrete though.’ Clayton exclaimed. ‘Put it into an evidence bag to stop anyone else from touching it. None of the prints on it will stand up in court but they might point us in the right direction. Can you put it in the safe until we have seen the owner and sought his consent to take it to our lab?’

  ‘So is it stolen?’ The auctioneer asked.

  ‘Let’s say, if it isn’t red hot, it is a trifle warm.’ Clayton explained. ‘It will depend on how the vendor came to have the watch in his possession and if it is the victims, as to whether we return to the sale room for it.’

  They left the watch at the auction house and then went to the office. With no new information waiting for them they decided to go and call on the vendor of the watch.

  An hour after getting the information they stopped outside the address the auctioneer had given them. Clayton looked at the block of flats they were about to go in to.

  ‘It doesn’t look like Rolex territory to me.’ He exclaimed.

  ‘I know what you mean, sir.’ Rebecca agreed. ‘The question is, how did this man get hold of a Rolex, I can understand why he is selling it?’

  They walked to the lift door which had an ‘out of service’ sign on it.

  ‘Brilliant.’ Rebecca exclaimed.

  ‘Good exercise, sergeant.’ Clayton retorted.

  They walked up the stairs with Rebecca complaining all the way, especially as the man they were going to see was on the sixth floor.

  ‘It had to be on the sixth floor!’ Rebecca complained, when they finally reached the flat.

  ‘You should walk up stairs more often.’ Clayton replied and rang the doorbell.

  Nothing happened.

  ‘Par for the course.’ He moaned and knocked the door.

  There was no answer and no stirring inside. They were either not answering or there was one in.

  ‘Gone to the dole office, I suspect.’ Rebecca concluded. ‘Do we wait?’

  ‘No, we’ll come back when he’s in. There is no telling when he’ll come back and I am not chasing him round London, when we don’t know what he looks like.’

  ‘I have his description from the auctioneer.’ Rebecca retorted, offering him the book.

  ‘That description would fit half the young men in London.’ Clayton replied and started back down the stairs.

  ‘At least going down is easier than coming up.’ Rebecca declared and overtook him.

  They returned to the office and worked on the cases. Rebecca tried to trace the earring but with only James’ and Pierre’s description of it, it was not easy. Rebecca moved on to another task when she had no luck on the earring. She produced a leaflet, bearing Deng Lee’s photograph, with a request for information on it. They were to be distributed in the area round the school and the sports field.

  ‘What about getting some plods to distribute these?’ She asked when she had finished it and passed one over to him for his inspection.

  ‘A job for the specials, they always want to help.’ Clayton declared. ‘These are fine, print off two hundred and I’ll take them to Bob on the desk, he owes me a favour!’

  Clayton sat and waited while Rebecca printed two hundred copies, then he took the flyers to Bob on the desk. He stood and waited while Bob dealt with a member of the public.

  ‘I need these delivered round Bankside School and the nearby sports field, Bob. Got any specials who are doing nothing?’ He asked casually.

  ‘I can find some, Inspector Moore.’ He answered with a rare smile. ‘Leave them with me and I’ll get them delivered. It will make them feel helpful.’

  Rebecca drove them to the flats again and Rebecca walked up to the lift hopefully. The sign was still on it and she caught Clayton up as he had already started up the stairs.

  ‘You’re slipping.’ Clayton declared. ‘There was dust on the sign to show it had been there some time.’

  ‘I saw it the second time,’ Rebecca replied, ‘Besides, it might have been fixed between our first visit and out second visit.’

  ‘It might have been fixed, so might his bell.’ Clayton replied.

  They climbed up the six flights to the flat their suspect lived in. Clayton knocked the door, ignoring the defunct bell and a man opened it.

  ‘Mr. Peter Cramer?’ Clayton asked.

  ‘Yes.’ The man answered.

  He looked like the archetypal student.

  ‘I am Inspector Clayton of Pimlico police and this is Sergeant Stone, we need to ask you some questions about the watch you are selling.’

  ‘Come in, please. You will have to forgive the mess though.’

  They followed him inside the flat. The young man cleared chairs of clothes and books to allow them to sit.

  ‘You sent a Rolex watch for sale in Chiswick auctions.’ Clayton continued.

  ‘Yes I did, why, is there a problem.’ The young man asked, politely.

  ‘How did you come to own the watch, Mr. Cramer?’

  ‘I bought it in a charity shop.’ He answered. ‘It cost me a tenner, I hope it sells.’

  ‘A very nice thing to buy in a charity shop for ten pounds, Mr. Cramer,’ Clayton replied, ‘may I ask how much you have been told it will sell for.’

  ‘The man who valued it said at least five hundred pounds, possibly tho
usands, Inspector Moore. When I looked at it in the charity shop, I was sure it was real, so I bought it. It will clear my student loan when it sells.’

  ‘We need to run some tests on it before then, if you are agreeable to that.’ Clayton replied. ‘I will make It is not damaged.’

  ‘Why do you need to run tests on it?’

  ‘We think it belongs to a murder victim.’ Clayton answered.

  ‘Surely if they killed the person concerned and then stole his watch, isn’t it a bit odd to give it to a charity shop?’ Peter asked. ‘A pawn shop would be a better solution for selling stolen goods.’

  ‘It is hard to work out a murderer’s agenda Mr. Cramer but it does seem odd. Can you give us the name of the charity shop you purchased it in?’ Clayton asked.

  ‘Yes, well not the name, it is the homeless shop on the high street. I walked in on the off chance, as you do when you are hard up, hoping to find something cheap which is worth more than you paid for it and there it was, so I bought it!’

  ‘Was there a single diamond earring with it, or nearby?’ Rebecca asked.

  ‘Not that I saw or I would have bought that as well.’ Peter answered. ‘I would have sneakily tried it on a piece of glass and if it marked it I would have bought it just as quick as I did the watch!’

  ‘Do we have your permission to run some tests on your watch?’ Clayton asked.

  ‘Of course inspector, anything to help your case but I would like it back to sell.’

  ‘I will see what I can arrange, thank you for your help, Mr. Cramer, if you have any more information which might be pertinent to the case we are investigating, please give me a call, this is my card.’ Clayton replied and held out his card.

  Cramer took the card and walked over to the desk, the only clean spot in the flat. He lodged the card in his monitor, then let Clayton and Rebecca out.

  ‘So he’s not the murderer then?’ Rebecca asked on the way back down.

  ‘It appears not, as long as the charity shop backs up his story. Then we need to find out where they got it from!’ Clayton answered.

  They drove straight to the charity shop Cramer had told them he bought the watch from and parked right outside, on the double yellow lines. Rebecca liked doing that!

  ‘How do we play this one Rebecca?’ Clayton asked, before they went in.

  ‘Do you think the shop has something to do with it?’ Rebecca asked with a big smile. ‘They killed him so that they could sell the watch in their shop for a tenner!’

  ‘I suppose I am being a bit paranoid, thinking everyone is guilty before we even meet them but we aren’t getting very far in this case, or the other one, either.’

  ‘They could have sold the earring earlier in the day and their takings might show a large cash injection, sir.’ Rebecca added

  ‘A good place to start, sergeant, we could look through the books as well as asking the staff about the watch. There is no telling who sold it and also if they are ‘in’ today.’

  They walked inside. The woman behind the desk looked up when they walked in and then after sizing them up, looked back down again. Clayton walked up to the desk.

  ‘Good afternoon, I am Inspector Moore of the Pimlico police and we are trying to trace the provenance of a watch, purportedly sold in this shop. You are?’

  ‘I am Amelia Pointer, I am the manager of this charity shop and we sell a lot of watches in here, when they are donated. Do you have any more information about the watch?’ The woman answered.

  ‘It was a Rolex.’ Clayton answered.

  ‘Oh, that one, I remember that one. I thought it was probably a fake, so I sold it to some student who thought it was real.’ She answered. ‘Was it real?’

  ‘It was. We will be running some tests on it so we will need your fingerprints to eliminate your prints from those we find on the watch.’ Clayton answered.

  ‘You want to take my fingerprints?’ She replied worriedly. ‘Don’t I have any say in this?’

  ‘Not really, we will also need to look through your books for a large cash donation and also a diamond earring, which would have been donated at the same time.’ Clayton answered.

  ‘There was no cash and no diamond earring, Inspector Moore, sorry to disappoint you.’ She answered quickly, too quickly. ‘The watch was pushed through the letterbox; I found it when I opened up in the morning. I put the watch in the window priced at ten pounds and that student walked in and bought it.’

  Clayton looked through the book she presented to him, just a single book with sales noted in it. He did not see anything but the sale of the Rolex; that was the biggest sale of that day. While he was talking to the Amelia, Rebecca was looking round the things in the shop. Not writing for a change, just looking at different things, as though she might buy something. She picked up a pint glass, looked at it casually and put it back down. Clayton gave Amelia a card, when he gave her the book back.

  ‘If you think about anything you think I should know or suddenly come across the diamond earring, give me a call.’ He asked politely.

  ‘I will indeed, I am always willing to help the police.’ Amelia replied.

  They walked out to the car.

  ‘The woman was lying.’ Rebecca exclaimed.

  ‘How did you come to that conclusion?’ Clayton asked.

  ‘While you were talking to her I was looking around, there was a straight pint glass, not one with a handle just plain glass and it had a scratch on it, made, if I am not mistaken, by someone trying to find out if a diamond is real or not.’ Rebecca answered smugly.

  ‘So she took the diamond because she proved to herself that it was real but left the Rolex.’ Clayton exclaimed.

  ‘Looks like it; and I can guess where the money went, if it was dropped through the letterbox with the rest of his stuff.’ Rebecca snorted, annoyed at the woman’s dishonesty.

  ‘It is a shame we don’t know what else he had on him.’ Clayton complained. ‘Perhaps the flyers will help.’

  ‘Do we ask her about it, sir?’ Rebecca asked, ready to go back in and accuse her.

  ‘No, I think I will get Gerald to go through her accounts to see if she has paid in any large deposits recently before I talk to her again.’ Clayton asked. ‘She seemed quite willing to lie, so the more ammunition we have against her, the more leverage we will have.’

  They drove back to the office through the traffic and when they walked in they found the flyers back on Rebecca’s desk, with a note.

  ‘It seems the CI doesn’t want to waste manpower on a drug related case, sir,’ she announced, ‘a bit of a turn round, even for him.’

  ‘About one hundred and eighty degrees, Rebecca, par for the course,’ Clayton declared and sat down, ‘but I do have an idea how I can get them delivered.’ He added after a few seconds. ‘And just where they need to go.’

  ‘How, may I ask?’

  Clayton tapped his nose.

  ‘Work it out, sergeant, work it out.’

  Rebecca sat and thought but had not thought of an answer when she drove him home. They took the flyers and Clayton took them into his house with him, when they arrived there. She watched him go inside and then she drove away.

  That evening Clayton cooked a meal and sat eating it with a glass of red wine before he rung for a taxi. When the taxi arrived it took him to the flats that Leslie Felltham had been dumped behind. The same flats the group of boys liked to hang round. He picked up the flyers off the back seat of the taxi, they were in two carrier bags and quite heavy but he walked round to where the boys were congregated.

  ‘Inspector Moore is coming.’ The lookout called but with less urgency than he used last time.

  ‘It’s okay Jonny, he’s alright.’ Rufus answered.

  No one ran and they all waited for the inspector to arrive.

  ‘Good evening Inspector Moore.’ Rufus greeted when Clayton stopped in front of him and put the two carrier bags onto the floor.

  ‘It might be, if I haven’t wasted my energy, Rufus.�
� He answered. ‘I have some flyers about the murder of Lippy, as you call him, I want them distributed round the houses near the school and anywhere else he plied his trade, can you help me?’

  ‘You want us to put them through letterboxes for you?’ Rufus asked.

  ‘That is about the size of it.’ Clayton answered. ‘There will be a small reward for the completed job though.’

  ‘How small?’ Rufus asked.

  ‘Twenty pounds, for a job well done.’

  ‘I am sure we can manage that for you Inspector and this time it will be for free. We owe you a debt.’

  ‘Thank you, Rufus, how did it go at Mrs. Finnegan’s?’

  ‘It went very well. We’re back there tomorrow after school, well they are, I will be working there all day. She has decided to change it all round, says she likes our ideas on her garden. James is ‘a whizz’ at garden designing.’ Rufus answered and James blushed.

  ‘Good. I am glad you are working it out, or I might have to arrest you all!’

  ‘We wouldn’t want that, would we?’ Rufus replied.

  ‘No we wouldn’t, would we?’ Clayton agreed.

  ‘We will be able to do it tomorrow for you.’ Rufus replied looking at his gang for argument but there was none.

  Clayton left the flyers there and walked back to the waiting taxi. It had been worth the fare and it saved Rebecca driving him there. What she did not know, could do her no harm. Just in case the CI took exception to his using suspects in a crime for police work. The taxi took him home and he had another glass of wine at home while he watched a film before he went to bed.

  The next morning he was sitting at his desk when Bill arrived.

  ‘The news on the soil under Leslie Felltham’s finger nails is that it did not come from his allotment.’ He announced and laid the file in front of Clayton, should he want to scrutenise it. ‘The soil there has a lot of horse manure in it.’

  ‘So where was he working before he died?’ Clayton answered.

  ‘I could take samples from his garden to compare against the soil under his finger nails, but if he used the same amount of horse manure at home, I would say it wasn’t from there either.’ Bill offered.

  ‘It might be worth doing as Mrs. Felltham made him get rid of the horse manure when it was delivered to the house. On the other hand, he might have been in a lady friend’s garden somewhere, which would make his killing, a crime of passion, the dreaded eternal triangle.’