The Wanderlust Lady and the Door to Door Salesman - 20 - Stan Gets Caught

September 16, 2012

 

Sunday I had a hangover. I'd really laid one on the night before. But I thought I needed to have some way of expiating my worries. A week ago I'd thought I was rich. Now I wasn't sure whether I was destined for jail or not. I had a bit of money left – enough for the trip to the job centre in Hyde tomorrow. I should be able to withdraw another £60 from my job seekers' allowance. The bank seemed to have sorted itself out again.

But today, without anything to watch, no library to go to, nothing to organise or plan, I felt really flat. I had a quick breakfast, and worked out that with a bit of luck, my food supplies should last until tomorrow and by afternoon I would have the funds to stock up again.

There was a knock on the door. I got to my feet. Why did I think that the cops wouldn't work on Sunday?

“Good morning Mr. Barber,” said P.C. Reilly who'd called on me before. “Can I bother you to come down to the station with me? We have some questions we want to ask you.”

“Are you arresting me for something?” I asked.

“Oh no. Just helping us with our inquiries. You don't have to come. You don't have to answer my questions, and if you're worried about things, perhaps you'd better get a solicitor.”

“No, that's okay,” and I put on my jacket and locked the door behind myself.

This time we only went as far as the local police station in Marple. The policeman showed me into a room with a table and chairs on both sides. “Do you mind if I record what you're saying?” he asked.

“Does it matter if I mind or not,” I said, and then realising it wouldn't help my case to be cheeky, I added, “No, of course not.”

So he turned on the machine and spoke into it. “Interview with Mr. Stanley Barber, currently residing at 16 Oak Lane, Marple, on Sunday September 16, 2012. Mr. Barber, as you know, we are investigating the hit and run death of Miss Wilhelmina Jones, at whose house you are currently staying. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Now, Mr. Barber, we have investigated your background, and we cannot see where this supposed relationship with Miss Jones comes about. Perhaps you could elucidate a bit on that.”

“I guess she isn't my real aunt. I think she was a friend of my Grandmother's and we always called her Aunt, but she wasn't really.”

“When I talked to your parents they were very surprised to hear anything at all about Miss Jones being an aunt or even a friend. They said they'd never heard of her.”

“I told you, she was Grandma's friend. I used to spend a lot of time with Grandma.”

“And just what is your grandmother's name?”

“It was Jane – Mrs. James Stanley Barber.”

“She's died, has she?”

“Yes, both she and my granddad are dead.”

“So you have nobody who can substantiate for us this story about you and Aunt Minnie.”

“I guess not.”

“Now, I must tell you that I have interviewed a lady who I think you know, as she used to be your boss. She told me quite a different story. She said you went to this lady's house to sell things.”

“Well, I was selling things at the time, yes.”

“She says the lady bought something from you – clothes pegs I think it was.”

“Yes, she did.”

“She says you wrote out a note about her, saying that she had a roll of money in her coffee canister and her key under a flower pot in the front yard. Did you write that?”

“Yes, something like that. But I crossed lots of it out again.”

“Why did you write that down?”

“It was Minnie's idea.”

“You mean Minnie wanted people to think that her money was ripe for plucking?”

“Yes.”

“What gave her that idea?”

“I told her all about my job and how we had to fill out these lists and say stuff about the people whose houses we went to.”

“And you thought it was suspicious, did you?”

“No, I didn't but Minnie did. She was convinced that my boss was using me to find potential targets for her gang to burgle.”

“Did you believe that was the case as well?”

“Not as first, but Minnie said as how there'd been lots of burglaries in the neighbourhood, and how we'd been combing the area for the last few weeks with our sales – she said it all fit together.”

“So the idea was to provide a piece of paper with information on it to tempt your boss to organise for Minnie's house to be robbed.”

“Yes. It was her idea to put in about the key under the flower pot and the notes in the coffee jar. She'd made that bit up.”

“There weren't any £20 notes in the coffee jar?”

“No.”

“Wasn't she worried about being hurt if she was burgled?”

“No, she was excited about having an adventure. She'd led a pretty boring life normally.”

“Was she going to tell the police her suspicions?”

“Yes. I thought she was going to the police station that afternoon or the next day. That's what she'd said anyway.”

“Well she didn't come here, and wherever she did go – she was run over on the way home. Did you run her over, Mr. Barber?”

“Me? Of course not. Sadie was the one with the white van.”

“You mean your boss, Sadie.”

“I don't drive. I don't have a driving license.”

“But you were in her van that afternoon.”

“Yes, but only because she was supposed to be paying me, and then we had that fight. I told you all about that before.”

“Have you ever driven a car, Mr. Barber?”

“Yes, once or twice – just kidding around with friends.”

“So you would be capable of driving a van if it came to it.”

“Probably.”

“According to our source, you are the one who drove off at speed in the white van that afternoon - having asked her to stop for you to use the bushes, so to speak – and then when she had got out of the van too, leaving the keys in, she says you rushed up and jumped into the driving seat and raced off, leaving her there in the countryside.”

“What a load of cobblers.”

“She says your story is a load of cobblers. Who am I supposed to believe? Who is it who hotfooted it to Miss Jones' house and moved in after that? Who is it who's been taking money out of her account?”

“Only once. She told me I could.”

“When did she tell you that?”

“She really did want me to move in with her. That's no lie. When I objected to her plan for setting a trap for Sadie, she said that if I lost my job I could come and live with her and she'd help me get a job. She said I reminded her of herself when she was young. She liked me. Okay, so maybe she wasn't my aunt or my grandmother's friend, but she felt like an aunt. She acted like an aunt.”

“So exactly when did she say - 'Here's my bank card. Go and draw out my money, and by the way, here's my pin number?'”

“Okay. She didn't say that.”

“But you found and used her bank card.”

“Yes, but it was only once, and I didn't take out much. I'd have paid her back.”

“And you didn't take any of her other things?”

“Of course not.”

“What about her library card?”

“I never took her library card.”

“Yet you managed to use the computer at the library based on her card. How did you do that?”

“I told the librarian I was staying at her house. She didn't worry about it. I was staying there. And Minnie would've been happy to let me use her card.”

“Do you know that you delayed procedures by at least a week by using her library card? I know using a library card doesn't sound like such a big crime – but wasting police time is taken very seriously indeed.”

“I didn't know.”

(to be continued)