Johnny Swanson - Eleanor Updale [82]
The officer took off his helmet and addressed Hutch in a portentous tone. ‘Mr Hutchinson, I regret to say that I have been sent to investigate a very serious matter.’
‘I’ll be delighted to assist you, Officer, if I can. I have been trying to help for some time, but have received only rebuffs.’
‘This is not about the murder, sir. We have received a complaint.’
‘A complaint? About me?’
‘Not about you, sir. About one of your customers.’
‘Which one? Who? What have they done?’
‘I can tell you, sir, that this is an allegation of fraud. Of obtaining money by deception. But I’m afraid I cannot tell you the name of the culprit.’
‘I quite understand if it is a matter of confidentiality. But how can I help?’
‘It’s not a question of propriety, sir. I’m not telling you the name because I do not know it myself. That is why I have come to you.’
‘I don’t understand. I have hundreds of customers,’ said Hutch, adding, under his breath, Or I did have until recently. ‘I’m afraid I know little of what they do outside this shop. I certainly am not aware of anyone trying to defraud me.’
‘As far as I know, you have not been defrauded, sir. But I think you will sympathize with the victim if I tell you the nature of the evidence. The complainant asserts that he has twice sent money to someone using a private postal box at this post office – and both times he has been the victim of a trick.’ The policeman consulted his notebook. ‘The complainant paid sixpence to find out how to save money on tea. Fair enough, you might think. In this day and age we’re all looking for ways to make economies, and the gentleman was hoping to be put in touch with a supplier charging reasonable prices. All he got was advice that he should “stop using sugar and milk”. He might have overlooked that, had he not received another note, in the same handwriting, when he paid a shilling for an appliance to take the backache out of cutting his toenails. That note said, “Get someone else to do it for you.” ’
Of course, Hutch knew immediately what the policeman was talking about, but he wasn’t going to let on. He waited for the officer to say more.
‘Now, I have been given the number of this private box,’ said the policeman. ‘It is the link between the two advertisements, and I am asking you to tell me the identity of the person who has rented it. Then I will be able to proceed with my enquiries.’
Hutch paused. He was in no doubt what his reply should be, and it would be the same whether the matter involved Johnny or not. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t help you,’ he said.
‘But surely you know who holds this box? No doubt they come in here to collect their mail?’
‘I dare say they do. And I dare say I know the name. But I have to tell you that his, or her, identity is a matter between that person and the Post Office.’
‘But this is a serious allegation.’
‘That’s as may be. And if it is serious enough, no doubt you can persuade a judge to issue you with a warrant permitting you to acquire the information you seek. But until then, I’m afraid my duty is to protect it.’
The policeman was beginning to get cross. ‘But, Mr Hutchinson, you are already co-operating with us over Dr Langford’s mail. You’ve let me and my colleagues examine that every morning.’
‘May I remind you, Officer, that Dr Langford was murdered? Now, that is a serious matter. And of course, Dr Langford is dead. His relationship with the Post Office is now profoundly altered.’
‘But be reasonable, man. The chances are that we’ll get to the bottom of this fiddle, if fiddle it be, in the end anyway. We’ll just find out sooner if we don’t have to go through the rigmarole of getting the courts involved. Come on, Mr Hutchinson. It’s PO Box number nine.