Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 49, No. 1 & 2, January/February 2004

“Do you remember that job you did at...” He groped in his head for a name, but it eluded him, so he named the street. “Well, the old lady is now putting in an insurance claim for the stuff I bought from her. Can you testify I bought it fair and square and didn’t steal it?” asked Clauson irritably.

The man spat.

“Anything you’d buy would be a steal,” the man said with heavy irony.

“You don’t seem to mind,” said Clauson hotly. “You take my money.”

“Look, mate, I’m not testifying to nuttin’, I’m not going into court. If I went into court for you, it’d be all over the place. I’d never get another job hereabouts. It’s mostly word o’ mouth in a small town like this.”

“You don’t have to go to court. Just tell this fellow here.” He gestured at Russell, “Just tell him what days I was there collecting the stuff in the van.”

“Copper? They’ve been to see us already.” The man turned to Russell suspiciously.

“I’m a private investigator working for an insurance company,” said Russell, “and I am investigating the theft of property...”

The man stepped back. “Me and my mate have a job to do.”

“Hey, you can’t do that,” Clauson said. “I need a witness.”

“Don’t know nuttin’!”

“Hey, and you...” Clauson called to the other man.

The man shook his head and the two backed toward their ladder.

“I’ll pay you,” shrieked Clauson, rushing after them. His partner held him back.

“I’ll kill them,” Clauson said through clenched teeth.

“Go easy, Harry,” his partner said.

“Well, gentlemen,” Russell said, “I’ve got a compromise solution to offer. You return the stuff now, today, and I’ll even arrange the transport, and we needn’t call the police at all. My only concern is to ensure that my clients...”

“Look here,” Clauson said, taking out a billfold. “I’ve got a better idea, Just give me half an hour’s start...”

Russell laughed and mimicked the roof worker. “I’d never get another job hereabouts. It’s mostly word o’ mouth in a small town like this. Either we move the stuff back right away, or it’s the police. It’s the old lady’s word against yours, and they were in Spain for the dates you gave. Her husband is a brigadier. What jury will take your word against hers?”

“I don’t want trouble,” said the partner solicitously.

“You just come along with me and we’ll confront her,” Clauson said aggressively.

Russell said very mildly, “My job is to get the stuff back to the owners, not to find the thieves. That’s for the police. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve found the stolen goods, and I hope they are all there. You are quite welcome to go to the police yourself, as I will, if that stuff isn’t moving within the next hour.”

“I don’t want to go to the police,” said Clauson. “As far as I’m concerned, she can be married to the entire British army, I want to confront that bitch in your presence.”

“Either I call a van to collect the stuff right now, or I call the police right now.”

Clauson swore and raged, but he gave in.

It was only later that Russell discovered from a chance remark that Mrs. Stammers had not been with the Thundackaray-Hardings all that time. He wondered if there had been some confusion in identity. Finally, he told the whole story to Peter Strevens. Was there any chance that Clauson was telling the truth but was afraid a police investigation would reveal stolen goods on his premises? Strevens was quite amused. “Well, serve the bastard right. One way or another, he got it in the eye. We’ll go through the place, but not just yet. He will probably keep his nose clean for a while.”

Russell telephoned Bradford and told him the whole story. Bradford laughed his head off, then said, “I don’t suppose there’s any point in telling the brigadier, he’d never believe it, that is, if it is true. But Clauson sounds like the sort of man who’d make up a story like that. Just to be on the safe side, I’ll put a note on the file. If ever they make another claim, we’ll have you investigate the housekeeper.”

But that was not the end of the story.

IV

Several months later Russell was dining with a friend at the Lily Langtry, round the corner from where he lived, when all of a sudden there was a great activity on the part of the staff as Brigadier Thundackaray-Harding swept in. His wife was on one arm and Mrs. Stammers on the other. The latter was dressed in pink velvet, with a white fur collar, a fur hat, and many bright appendages hanging round her.

“Ooooo, there’s our nice detective,” said Mrs. Stammers. The three came over and she signaled the waiter. “This gentleman and his lady friend are joining us at our table, and their bill is on me, too.” Russell demurred, but the waiters were already enlarging the reserved table and moving food and cutlery. Introductions were made.

“Mrs. Stammers is now our companion and friend and lives with us,” said the brigadier.