Inspector North calls the tune

INSPECTOR NORTH CALLS THE TUNE

"I'm sure the back door was locked," exclaimed Mrs Bellaware, jumping
up from her chair for the fourth time in ten minutes. "I know so
because I always check before taking my nap. I never forget. Besides, I
clearly remember doing so!"
Inspector North wanted to ignore the lady's outburst and concentrate
his thoughts on the matter in hand but, as ever, his professional
conscience prevailed. He gave Mrs Bellaware a reassuring smile and
urged her once again to remain seated and to trust him.
"It won't be long now," he added, instantly regretting his remark. He'd
said the same thing twice already.
Mrs Bellaware slowly reseated herself. Eying the detective warily, she
sat on the edge of her armchair, poised and ready to spring. In normal
circumstances she would not have been so submissive. Those who knew her
described her as a highly independent and strong-willed lady,
possessing a mind truly of her own. Today, the ordeal of being burgled
had weakened her spirits, making her exceptionally co-operative. Mrs
Bellaware was a retired widow. She lived alone in a 2-bedroomed
bungalow which mirrored her character and standing. It was finely
decorated with meticulous taste and a shrewd eye for style. It was,
needless to say, immaculately kept. When he arrived at her home earlier
on, North was wise to obey an inbred instinct which told him to give
his feet a thorough wipe on the doormat before entering.
Also present in the room were two uniformed policemen. However, they
were hardly noticeable. They stood motionless at the back of the room
with neutral, expressionless faces, like guards outside Buckingham
Palace.
"I really can't see how my window cleaner can help at all with your
enquiries," started the lady once more. "I mean, he wasn't even here at
the time." Mrs Bellaware's high pitched voice cut through the air
before suddenly trailing away. When she spoke again, her voice was
deeper and her words hesitant. "Unless, that is, that you think he is
somehow involved?" she questioned openly, her face contorted in an
expression of bewilderment. North made no comment and continued to pace
up and down the room.
North didn't usually deal with burglaries. As Detective Inspector for
the CID, a position he'd reached after more than twenty five years in
the Force, he normally handled more serious crime . Chance and
curiosity had brought him there. Today was his day off, which he'd been
spending at home with his wife. The station had called him on an urgent
matter and the desk sergeant, in passing, had informed him of the
burglary which had taken place only a few streets away from where North
lived. He didn't know Mrs Bellaware personally but he knew of her. The
lady was a well-known figure in the community. Also, he and Mrs. North
had often admired the lady's garden when an evening stroll had taken
them past her house. Mrs North was deeply touched by the lady's
misfortune and appealed to her husband to lend assistance. Although it
was the detective's day off he accepted. The truth of the matter was he
was also tempted by the opportunity to finally meet the lady in
person.
When North arrived the two constables who had preceded him had already
done as much as could be done in the circumstances. They had checked
the place over and taken down Mrs Bellaware's initial statement. The
two constables, who were rather surprised at their superior's
unexpected arrival, quickly related to him the facts. Someone had got
in through the back door while the lady was asleep and stolen a very
valuable antique clock and some petty cash from her purse. Fortunately
there had been no physical assault. Mrs Bellaware had been taking an
afternoon nap and had only noticed the theft on waking. The back door
was found unlocked despite the adamant claims of the lady that it had
been locked.
North knew he could do no more, hadn't expected to, but on taking a
quick routine look over the lady's house he'd been suddenly overwhelmed
by a singular discovery. In the lady's living room, behind the sofa, so
as not to clash with the quaint vases beautifully dressed with freshly
cut flowers, the silver-framed photographs of her late husband and her
children and grandchildren and elegant porcelain figures that ordained
the polished mahogany furniture, there stood and old fashioned record
player. A mild curiosity had led North to glance at the record that lay
on the turn table. It was the result of this action which had caused
him so much astonishment.
At that point he'd called Mrs Bellaware into the living room. The lady
was in the kitchen, once more in the process of demonstrating to the
constables her routine of checking the back door prior to retiring to
her bedroom. On hearing the detective call out she let out a zealous
cry and, exerting great strides, came running into the room half
expecting the detective to have found the thief still in hiding
somewhere. She soon saw that North was busy examining her
windows.
"Do you have your windows cleaned Mrs Bellaware?" North asked the
lady.
"I beg your pardon?" said Mrs Bellaware, once she'd gotten her breath
back.
"Do you have your windows cleaned," repeated North.
The lady had heard correctly the first time. It was only the
strangeness of the detective's question which made her think she'd
somehow misinterpreted. Now though, there was no doubt.
"My windows cleaned?" she shrieked, staring wide-eyed at the detective.
"What's that got to do with my burglary?"
"Well I can't say just yet," said North in all seriousness, "it depends
really, do you have them cleaned or not?"
The lady was far from reassured about the seriousness or
appropriateness of the question and looked to the constables for
enlightenment. She examined both faces closely for signs of an answer
to her doubts but found none. Their faces were as blank as two freshly
whitewashed walls. Mrs Bellaware found the situation most irregular and
positively awkward. She wasn't sure whether she should refuse to answer
the detective's question on the grounds that it was totally irrelevant
and a complete waste of time. Or should she simply tell him anything he
wanted to know? She sighed heavily and sat down. No doubt aggravated by
her current distress, she felt quite ill at ease. Glancing back at
detective, he appeared to be patiently waiting for an answer. On closer
inspection she was struck by the eagerness in his dark brown eyes. She
knew she had no choice. Eventually, she resigned herself.
"Yes I do, if you must know."
"And have you had them cleaned recently?"
"Yesterday, in fact," answered the lady.
"Could you tell me the name of your window cleaner?"
"Brown," sighed Mrs Bellaware, "Mr Thomas Brown."
"Thank you Mrs Bellaware," said North.
Mrs Bellaware didn't know what to make of the detective and his strange
questions. Why would he show an interest in such trivial details? Were
they somehow related to the case? Or was the Inspector simply
interested in her window cleaner for personal reasons? Her mind was
still buzzing when a few moments later North resumed his interrogation.
To her further bewilderment, he now began to question her about her
taste in music. Mrs Bellaware was beginning to feel irritated and
showed it. She was decidedly curt with her answers and was greatly
relieved when the detective signalled the end of the questioning by
calling the station on his mobile phone.
"Yes, that's right," he said, after explaining to the desk sergeant the
mission he had in mind, "I saw him about half an hour ago in Duke
Street. His name's Thomas Brown. And send two constables to pick him
up. I want to talk to him as soon as possible."
North had relapsed into a thoughtful silence after his call which
indicated to all present that the continuation of the investigation now
depended upon the presence of the window cleaner and that there was
nothing anybody could do until he arrived. Until then, they were all
bound to a state of waiting. North feared the arrival of the policemen
with the window cleaner would take some time. He was only too aware of
the amount of mystery and intrigue his seemingly trivial questions had
created, which the wait in store could only heighten. However, he could
not, as yet, offer any explanation or peace of mind to Mrs Bellaware.
He felt he'd rather precipitated himself on the basis of an intuition.
He still had to clarify his thoughts and decide upon the course of
action to take with the window cleaner when he arrived. North thought
briefly about suggesting they had a cup of tea, as custom would dictate
in such circumstances. However, he didn't feel happy about asking Mrs
Bellaware to do the honours, given her current state of mind, and he
didn't want to cause her any further distress by sending one of the
constables into the kitchen to manhandle her china. He quickly
abandoned the idea and set his mind to the problem in hand. For North,
mental activity was stimulated by a physical one. He wandered up and
down the room, his eyes fixed to the carpet but his vision very much
out of focus. Mrs Bellaware sat awkwardly on the edge of her armchair
and relieved her tension, partly caused by the waiting, partly caused
by her total lack of comprehension of the proceedings, by jumping up
from her chair every now and then to restate that she was sure she had
locked the back door. Only the two constables seemed able to bear the
waiting without showing signs of a troubled mind.
A couple of minutes or so after the waiting had begun North suddenly
stopped pacing about the room. After making a somewhat forced, hollow
cough, to attract Mrs Bellaware's attention, he asked her in the most
serene and natural of voices.
"You wouldn't have a TV and radio guide, would you by any
chance?"
Mrs Bellaware's eyes widened and her eyebrows soared as the blood
drained from her face. She opened her mouth to speak. Words failed her
so she closed it again and relapsed into a pensive silence. North
readied himself for a storm of protest and indignation. However, to
North's surprise, she got up, walked over to a pile of magazines neatly
stacked on a small side table, removed her TV and radio guide from the
pile and handed it to the detective before silently returning to her
place.
"Thank you," mumbled North, his voice barely audible.
The two constables, who, out of respect for their superior, had been
following the detective's handling of the case with an air of passive
observation, now exchanged searching glances with each other. They
could not help but wonder if the Inspector had really decided to kill
time by looking at the what was on the television that evening. Both
constables would later admit that during the waiting their minds had
occasionally drifted ahead to the International football match on
television that evening but neither wanted to believe that the
Inspector's intention lay in that direction. However, on observing
their superior, they were keen to notice that the way he carefully
fingered through the pages of the magazine, with a gaze of deep
concentration, before finally slapping it shut with a knowing nod of
his head, suggested otherwise.
In due course two constables arrived with the window cleaner. The door
bell announced their arrival with a startling ring, sending Mrs
Bellaware from her chair with a shriek. Only twenty minutes had elapsed
since North had made the call to the station but he and Mrs Bellaware
showed signs of a much longer wait. Mrs Bellaware straightened herself
back in her chair, blew her nose and gathered her wits. She seemed
confident that the arrival of her window cleaner would bring
enlightenment. She had altogether given up trying to comprehend what
was going on. Obviously detectives in real life were nothing like those
on TV. On television they busied themselves looking for fingerprints
and conducting house to house enquiries. In reality though, they were
more concerned with window cleaners, record players and TV magazines.
Now that Mr Brown was here to help with enquiries, she would finally
get some answers.
The window cleaner crept into the room with his cap in hand and a
concerned look on his wind swept face. He was a short man and stocky in
build. He had a round head with a bald top and a crown of greyish hair.
A grubby-looking cloth protruded from the front pocket of his
overalls.
"There's been a robbery I've been told" he said to the lady of the
house, "I'm very sorry to hear it."
Mrs Bellaware blinked her appreciation. Inspector North took a deep
breath.
"Is this the window cleaner who cleaned your windows yesterday?" he
asked.
"Yes, this is Mr Brown. He's cleaned them for the past ten years" she
replied hastily.
"Well then Mrs Bellaware" said the Inspector, "if you don't mind, for
the benefit of Mr Brown I would just like to run through again a few of
those questions I asked you earlier."
Mrs Bellaware was impatient to have done with the whole business. She
refrained from making any comment and just stared at the detective in
expectant wonder. North gestured to Mr Brown to take a seat. The window
cleaner sat himself down on the sofa. He was not altogether an
unwelcome visitor but he looked far from comfortable in his working
clothes on Mrs Bellaware's fine upholstered couch.
North cleared his throat. "Now then Mrs Bellaware," he began, "this
afternoon you played a record of Mozart's symphonies, including number
25 in G minor?"
The lady continued to stare in silence at the detective. It was only
when the Inspector gave her a stare back did she realise she was
supposed to say yes and did so.
"And you left the music playing while you went to bed in the room
adjacent to this one?"
"That's right," she replied.
"Why, may I ask?"
"Well, as I told you before, I only put the record on to help me doze
off really. I can hear it quite well from my bedroom if I leave the
door open. It's only the room next door."
"Quite. Do you always put a record on to help you go off?"
"Either that or the radio."
"Can you remember if the record had finished playing before you dropped
off to sleep?"
"I can't be sure but I don't remember hearing much of it so I must have
dozed off quite quickly."
"So it's possible that the person who got into your house and stole
your clock did so while the music was still playing."
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Now," said the Inspector, pausing for a moment, "you haven't played
that record recently, have you?"
"No, I haven't" said Mrs Bellaware.
"And you didn't, for example, play it yesterday while Mr Brown was
cleaning your windows?"
"No. Certainly not."
"Now then Mr Brown" said the Inspector turning to address himself to
the window cleaner, "I'm now going to tell you why I requested your
presence here today."
A passing car outside sounded like thunder inside the room where all
ears now strained to catch the detective's words.
"Mozart's symphony number 25 in G minor is one of his more popular
symphonies. The first movement is particularly appreciated," said
North, "are you familiar with it, Mr Brown?"
"Inspector!" suddenly interrupted Mrs Bellaware, her voice making
maximum use of her vocal chords, "I must protest. You haven't had Mr
Brown brought here to enquire about his taste in music I hope!"
North shot Mrs bellaware a powerful glance. His eyes were intense and
he said just one word. "Please." He didn't raise his voice but the word
carried with it all the authority of a policeman with many years
experience of leadership and command. Mrs Bellaware said no more.
The window cleaner obviously found the situation quite comical. He made
no effort to hide a smile as he answered, "I can't say I do know that
piece of music. I'm more of a 60's man myself."
"That may be so, Mr Brown, but about an hour ago, when I was on my way
here, I walked past you as you were cleaning somebody's windows." North
paused and took a step nearer to the window cleaner. "I distinctly
heard you whistling part of the first movement of Mozart's 25th
symphony. There's no doubt in my mind. Albeit somewhat out of tune,"
said North, with a quirky smile, "but I positively recognised
it."
Mr Brown's jaw dropped and he stared quizzically at the detective.
"Perhaps I do know it, then," he said, forcing a laugh to hide his
sudden uneasiness.
"Well, as I said, it's a good tune. Personally, I'm sure most people
would recognise it. And that's the point, you see, Mr Brown. We all
like to whistle a good tune when we've just heard it," continued North,
his eyes aimed at the window cleaner, "especially when we've got
something to be cheerful about! Wouldn't that be so Mr brown?"
Mr Brown was silent. North paused and took several paces about the room
before continuing. "I've checked today's radio programmes. It's not
programmed on any of the classical stations. We can check but I reckon
the chances one of your customers played that same piece of music today
are very slim. In fact, Mr Brown, I would go so far as saying that the
only place in this part of the city where this tune was heard playing
today was here, in Mrs Bellaware's sitting room. Therefore, I think we
can safely conclude that the reason why you had that tune in your head
is because it was you who crept in here this afternoon and stole the
clock while Mrs Bellaware was taking a nap. Having known her for a long
time I am sure that you are aware that she has a sleep in the afternoon
and thought it a convenient moment to enter the house. You waited until
she'd drawn the curtains before creeping in and because it was not long
after she'd retired to bed, the music was still playing. and that's
where you heard it. That's the reason why you had the tune in your
head."
A wave of surprise flooded the room, embracing everybody, including the
constables. Everyone knew that North had wanted to speak to the window
cleaner urgently. That had been clear from the start. No one had
imagined that he'd been brought there to face accusations, especially
with such a blatant lack of physical proof. The constables stared
open-mouthed. Mrs Bellaware was speechless. North, however, thought it
was the window cleaner who looked the most surprised but he was certain
the man's astonishment was due, not to the fact that he'd been falsely
accused, but because of the way he'd given himself away.
"Now Mr Brown, I know that what I've just put before you sounds a bit
thin and, I must admit, it is. But this is what I'm going to do: you
will be arrested upon suspicion of theft and taken to the station for
further questioning. Meanwhile, with a warrant, we'll commence a search
of your vehicle and home. The search will also be extended to include
anyone we think you may be involved with. Furthermore, we'll take your
fingerprints. Mrs Bellaware is convinced that her back door was locked
this afternoon and, frankly, I believe her. I believe that when you
were here yesterday cleaning the windows you sneaked in and stole a key
for the back door, which you used to get in today. You were, of course,
careful to replace the key before leaving so Mrs Bellaware would think
that she had left her back door unlocked."
Mr Brown listened in horror as the detective made his case against him.
He seemed powerless to react. Not a muscle twitched throughout his
body. He was frozen to his seat, his face utterly aghast and his eyes
like large white shiny pebbles.
"So all we have to do is to check all the back door keys for
fingerprints and compare them with yours. Alternatively, Mr Brown, you
could decide to save us a lot of trouble and police time by confessing
right now and telling us where the missing clock is. If you do own up
and tell us where you put the clock, I can assure you the judge will
take your co-operation into account. If, on the other hand, you're
determined to make us do this the hard way, then you'll get all that
you rightly deserve!"
When the Inspector had finished he noticed that Mrs Bellaware's
expression had changed from one of astonishment to one of seriousness.
She was fixing Mr Brown with a piercing regard. The window cleaner was
staring at his feet in silence and slowly turning his cap in his hands.
Shortly, he turned to face Mrs Bellaware and said with a weak
voice.
"I am sorry Mrs Bellaware, I've been having some troubles lately
with...." He didn't finish his phrase. He bowed his head down quickly
again, unable to stand the reproachful glare she was giving him.
Mr Brown was led away to the station. North let the constables take
over from there as charging the window cleaner was only a matter of
routine now. Furthermore, it was supposed to be his day off. However,
he felt that it hadn't turned out too badly. In fact, he felt rather
pleased with himself. His intuition had proved right and his gamble had
paid off. In the end it was hardly surprising the window cleaner had
confessed. North's determination had made the right impression. Mr
Brown had not felt it necessary to dispose of the clock in such a
hurry. It was recuperated from his van which was parked only a few
streets away. North remained with Mrs Bellaware until her clock was
brought back to her. When she had it once more in her possession, she
gave it a quick polish and replaced it proudly on her mantelpiece. On
the lady's doorstep, Mrs Bellaware thanked North warmly once again and,
taking hold of his arm and affectionately patting his hand, she
said.
"I can't tell you how grateful I am, Inspector, and I must say that I
feel just awful for doubting your methods."
"I must admit that today's episode was a little on the unusual side for
me too," said North.
"All the same, you were brilliant. I ought to write a letter of
commendation to the Chief Constable," said the lady, her face now a
picture of contentment.
"That won't be necessary, " said North, starting to feel embarrassed.
"I was only doing what I'm paid for." He was also surprised at how
quickly the lady seemed to have recovered her high spirits.
"And yet, Inspector," continued Mrs Bellaware in a more serious tone,
"do you know what relieves me the most?"
"What is that Mrs Bellaware?"
"Knowing that I was right about the back door being locked," she
said.
A smile crossed North's lips. Gently nodding his head in agreement, he
bid the lady farewell and took his leave. Once out of sight, his smile
grew into a chuckle, which lasted almost all the way home.

THE END