Mysterical-E

He Said, She Says

Oval Offer
A Billy Chapman Mystery
by Simon Maltman

Part 1
I got there by midday; I should have been there earlier. I woke up with an onion in my mouth and my head hanging off my neck like it was on a spring. It was Tuesday 8th October 1949. It was a good day for October. Any day in Northern Ireland is good if it’s not raining. I knocked on one of the turnstile doors and waited. I had been summoned by Glentoran Football Club of Belfast and this was their ground- The Oval.

“Yes mate?” A caretaker in overalls answered, propping open the door a little.

“Hello, Billy Chapman, Private Detective, I’m expected,” I said.

“Alright, just a minute,” He closed the door back across. I checked I wasn’t wearing the wrong colours on my tie.

He opened the door again, “Okay, they’ll see you now, I’ll take you up.”

“Thanks.”

He led me into the courtyard. I’d been here many times as a younger man. Not that I was old at the time- a strapping thirty five. Well, maybe not strapping- I was standing up and that was something. We crossed over near the pitch, and entered the main building. We climbed the musty stairs to the trustees’ meeting room.

“I’ll leave you here guv.” He knocked the door and left. He must have thought me too fragile to knock myself. The door opened.

“Mr Chapman!” a portly man beamed, “Many thanks for seeing us; please do come in.”

He patted my back. I took off my hat and entered, looking around. There was a collection of trophies in a cabinet and a pretty nice board table and chairs. There was a concerned looking tall and thin man too who I recognised as the Glentoran manager.

“Nice to meet you Mr Chapman,” I shook his hand.

“Good morning to you both,” I said, nodding.

John Patton, the manager, went back to his cigarette and his anxious look.

“Come and have a seat won’t you?” boomed the portly man.

“Thank you.”

We all sat down.

“Can I offer you a drink?” asked portly.

“You can but I’m fine thanks. Do you mind if I smoke?”

“No, not at all.”

I lit up and Patton lit up another.

“Now, let’s get the formalities over with. I am the Chairman of Glentoran Football Club, Arthur Battersbay. This is Mr Patton, Club Manager. We would like to employ your services in investigation, you come highly recommended."

“I must thank Mother for saying so.”

“Quite... now,” he became serious and flashed a look at Patton, “did you perchance hear of the girl who was sadly killed a few days ago near the shipyard?”

“Yes, I heard of her, they found her near the dry dock? They’re still investigating I think.” I inhaled deeply and sat back a little, intrigued.

“Yes, yes indeed. Now the matter is rather delicate. Not everything has been released to the press at this time. There were some- how can I say- sexual overtones.”

“Please don’t spare my blushes Mr Battersbay, I’m a man of the world.”

“It seems that the girl was wearing some kind of fetish outfit when she was found. Very unfortunate…the whole thing. Now, you are probably wondering what this all has to do with us, yes?”

“It had crossed my mind.”

“We can count on your discretion?” He shot another look at Patton who looked away and chomped on his smoke.

“All part of the service- £4 a week, plus expenses.”

“Good.”

I didn’t like that cold look in his eyes much.

“What isn’t public knowledge is that the girl- she was called Molly Robinson- was the lady friend of one of our players- Raymond McBride.”

“Yes I know of him,” I said, “He’s the one Manchester United have been scouting.”

“Indeed. Of course we have every faith in our police service, but we would like you to find out anything relating to McBride in this matter.”

“You mean if he killed her?”

“No, not really that, he has been cleared for now, but we fear there may be other potential scandals attached,” he said gravely.

“What you mean is, you want to know if there is any scandal to be found because that would bring down your payday if Manchester cough up for McBride.” I crossed my legs.

“You are very direct Mr Chapman- and candid,” he sighed dramatically, “but you are quite correct.”
I got up.

“Gentlemen, I am happy to take the case. I will need some more background information of course.”

“I took the liberty of having my secretary draw up a dossier,” said Battersbay. He handed it to me.

“That should be all for now then, I will be in touch, good day gents.”

Battersbay showed me to the door with some jovial chit chat; Patton stared out of the window.

I dragged myself back on to my bicycle, just as the heavens opened in the way they only can in Northern Ireland. I did a kind of forward crawl all the way back to my office on the Newtownards Road. I dripped all over the shared waiting area and was all dripped out by the time I ascended the stairs to my own small office. I don’t need a receptionist; it’d be like having a relator for a doll’s house. I took off my mac, put my feet up and reached for the office bottle. First thing’s first. Second was to look through the dossier. It seemed that this striker- McBride had been with the girl for some time. I knew already he had a bit of a reputation locally for being a big drinker, but I wouldn’t hold that against him. There were several quotes in the dossier saying that witnesses had seen him hit the girl in the past and claims that he had some perverse tendencies. These were anonymous. I’d never been given anonymous statements from a dossier at the start of an investigation before, hell I’d never been given a ‘dossier’ at the start either. Best to keep my brain active for this one, so I had a little nap.

I woke around 3pm and set off to meet with Raymond McBride. All the local players were part time and he worked the other part on the tall cranes at the shipyard- ‘Samson and Goliath’. I cycled there quickly as it was mostly downhill and the blustery rain had stopped. I’d save my hacking cough for the return journey. I asked a few disinterested workers if McBride was about and eventually he came out to see me.

“Look here, if yous keep coming down here I’m gonna get laid off, now I’ve told you everything I know!”
He wasn’t particularly rude, but looked harassed and I hadn’t even begun to harass him.

“I’m a Private Investigator; I just want a few minutes with you.”

“Oh,” that surprised him. “Who are you working for?”

“I really can’t say Mr McBride.”

“Okay, but you gotta make it quick.”

That was fine by me.

“Did you kill Molly Robinson?”

“What is this?!” he spat out at me.

“It’s a straightforward question,” I replied evenly.

“No!”

“Okay, there’s one question down. Were you in a relationship with her at the time of her death?”

“No, I courted her for a while over six months ago. I haven’t got time for this.”

“Just one more question; are you a pervert who enjoys beating women?”

He hit me real neat, left hook. If he didn’t make it further in football, he could be a boxer. I hit the dirt and he walked away. Nothing unusual in his reactions, I didn’t think he had anything to do with the girl’s murder.

I pushed my bike on the way to my next call, due to my recent head trauma. I ignored the suggested list of people to talk to in the dossier for now; I wasn’t overwhelmed with its reliability so far. Instead I called to some of McBride’s neighbours. They were for the most part fairly indifferent about him. He apparently could be a bit boisterous at times, but by and large a decent sort. Crucially none of them had seen the girl around in at least six months.

I rang a buddy of mine in the police- Harry Martin. He owed me one. He actually owed me about a dozen, but this would do for now. The police weren’t interested in McBride either; they had cleared him of any involvement. Martin also told me that there were not any fetish items found on the girl. Battersbay must have taken me for a chump. I’d only been on the case a few hours and I knew his dossier was a dud, but I didn’t know why.

I spoke to a few more locals over the next couple of days and even a few from the dossier. I finished up an old case too in-between. I thought I may as well get a few days’ pay from Battersbay if he was going to mess me around. I wrote up my report and brought it with me on Saturday afternoon. The Glens had just kicked off against Belfast Celtic. These matches often ended in brawls or worse, due to the sectarian divide in Belfast at the time. I watched the first half from behind the City end goals. It was a good match. I realised I had missed going to see my local side; I’d make sure I didn’t leave it as long again. There was no sign of Battersbay; he probably had no interest in football. After the half time whistle blew, I squeezed through the crowd and up the stairs again in the main building. I knocked on the boardroom door.

“Come in.”

I opened the door.

“Hello Mr Chapman, how nice to see you,” he was alone and put on his same show of delight by my presence. “How have you been getting on?”

“I’m finished.”

“Oh, really?” his face flickered disappointment. “That is good news. What have you uncovered?”

“You’ll be glad to know your man is in the clear.” I let that sit there.

“Oh; how wonderful! You are sure of that?” He lit a fat cigar.

“Yes, it’s all in my report.” I threw an envelope onto the board table.

“Well that is a relief.” He headed to a cabinet by his desk. “Now we must see that you are paid in full.”

He counted out a week and a half’s pay and thrust it into my hands.

“Will that suffice?”

“That looks fine.” I enjoyed watching his mind working overtime.

“Good day to you then. I trust that is the matter closed Mr Chapman?” he hurried me to the door.

I had my money so I figured I may as well ruffle a few of his feathers now.

“I’m still trying to work out your angle,” I said.

“Excuse me?” He said, looking more pompous than usual.

“You give me a dossier of ‘How to make Raymond McBride look bad in five easy steps’. I can only presume that you took me for the same as all the other private dicks in town that do little work and then sell any scandal to the local rags. I’m just not sure why.” I leaned against the door frame and lit up.

“You are quite the fantasist Chapman; I have no idea what rot you are speaking of, I can only imagine you must already be inebriated today. I have paid you in full and you are no longer welcome here. Good day.”
With that he slammed the door and locked it shut. What an interesting conversation. I decided I would go and watch the second half after all.

Part 2

I thought about the case all of Sunday. I wasn’t getting paid anymore, but technically I had been given enough money to work a few more days on it. I didn’t need to justify it to myself anyway. It was like a puzzle and I’m no good at leaving puzzles undone. I went to see ‘The Lady from Shanghai’ that afternoon at The Strand Cinema. After I closed this case I decided I was going to marry Rita Hayworth. I didn’t drink much all day and got up early enough on Monday. I wanted to go and see the club manager- Patton first thing. I had already found out he worked most of the week for the Civil Service at City Hall, so I got the bus into town. His secretary gave me a couple of negative responses when I first asked to see him, but saying my next appointment was with the Belfast Telegraph seemed to do the trick.

“Hello Mr Patton.”

“Mr Chapman, I really don’t know how I can help you.” He clumsily lifted out a cigarette.

“I think I can help you,” I said.

It didn’t take much for him to sing like Billie Holiday. I made it clear I wasn’t out to hurt him; I already knew someone had the squeeze on him.

“I love that football club Mr Chapman and I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise it. And I also love my wife. Okay look. He didn’t come out and say it, but I’m being blackmailed.”

“By Battersbay?”

He chewed on it.

“Yes. Now you said this is just between you and me?”

I nodded at him.

”I made the mistake of going to Arthur one night to talk about my problems. This was around eight months ago. Molly had been giving me the come on for some time and one night I crumbled. I know it was wrong- I’ve a wife and I was her boyfriend’s boss too. Arthur and I never discussed it again until she turned up dead. He said that I could become a suspect if it came out and that it could also damage the club. He said I needed to help him make up that dossier- not to frame Raymond you must understand, just to keep the heat away from me. He also said that he didn’t want Raymond going across to Manchester, as it would be bad for the club. I argued that with the money we would get we could buy ten new players, but he said we needed him. He said the scandal would help us keep hold of him.”

I thought he was going to cry as he slumped in his chair.

“I don’t know what I thought,” he continued. “I shouldn’t have helped him, I don’t want to hurt Raymond; really I don’t. I’m terrified my wife will find out…I’ve got two kids Mr Chapman.”

“Okay Patton calm down. You haven’t done much wrong, nothing the police need know about anyhow. I still don’t figure Battersbay’s angle in all of this though. What about the girl? Who do you think killed her?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t think I want to know.”

I believed him.

I walked around the corner to the Central Library and decided to do a bit of digging on Battersbay, anything I could find. It took time, but turned up a thing or two. First off I was surprised to read that as a kid he played for Linfield FC junior team, Glentoran’s bitter rivals. He was also from their south side of the city and it was only shortly before the war that he actually became chairman at Glentoran. He was heavily involved in the rebuilding of ‘The Oval’ after it was obliterated by the Luftwaffe during the war. In his main work he seemed to be part of an established business portfolio, but it was hard to tell what exactly that was from the public records.

It was 4.15p.m when I arrived at Windsor Park, home of Linfield FC. I blagged my way in and somehow managed to get the pretty receptionist to agree to let me see the chairman before he went home for his dinner. I didn’t like their boardroom as much, but then I am an East Belfast man.

“Good evening Mr Chapman, I am the chairman, Noel Gorman,” the elderly man said dourly.

“Thank you for your time Mr Gorman. Let me get straight to the point. I am investigating your opposite number at Glentoran, Mr Battersbay.”

“Oh?” He managed to raise an eyebrow.

“All I want to know is his connection to this club.”

He paused momentarily.

“Mr Chapman, Glentoran are our blood rivals. Mr Battersbay has nothing to do with our glorious club.”

“Would it be possible for me to have access to the club records- previous board members, financial returns...?”

“No, it would not,” he stood with some effort, “I have no more time for you, you may see yourself out.”

“Thank you, you’ve been so helpful,” I said.

I stopped off at a pub on the Lisburn Road and had a few quiet beers, giving myself time to think. I considered that I should probably go to my office at some point soon if I wanted to make any money, but hell, money could wait. I decided to call it a day, it was around 8pm. I walked a few quiet streets back towards the east of the city, when a car abruptly pulled up. Out of habit I took in the registration, then took in punches to my face and torso and some more as I lay on the ground bleeding. I heard a voice say something like, ‘Your investigation is over’ and then a warmth and sweat moved through my body as I passed out.
I came to in the Royal Victoria Hospital. It was the next afternoon. Apparently I had been jabbering out the registration through the night and the nurses had contacted the police. My old buddy Harry Martin was sitting next to me. He told me they picked up the owner of the car, with busted knuckles and my blood still on him. Better still, they found some half burned clothes out in his back yard with Molly Robinson’s blood on them. The guy was called Sandy Shaw, a local thug with no brain. He’d been in and out of Crumlin Road Gaol all of his life and he’d be going back there soon. He had no known link to me or the girl but it wouldn’t be long until he gave up who was behind him.

Part 3

I discharged myself from hospital after the doctor’s rounds the next morning. He wanted to keep me; I told him he couldn’t afford me. I made a quick call to Harry before I left. I didn’t feel great so I took a taxi from outside. “The Oval,” I said to the driver. When I got there, it was raining and the place was all locked up. It was 12.30pm. I warmed myself with a cigarette. At 12.45pm, Arthur Battersbay drove down Dee Street and onto Mersey Street and up to the gates. He wound down the window.

“Go away Chapman,” he said dryly. “Do you not know what’s good for you?”

“Apparently not,” I said shrugging, showing off my new bruises and cuts.

“Come in then,” he said curtly.

He opened the gate, swung the car in and locked it again. I followed on foot in-between. We walked up the stairs in silence. The whole place was empty. We both stayed standing in the board room.

“What is it now? Make it quick and then please crawl away under the rock you came from.”

“That isn’t nice Battersbay; you were much friendlier a week ago. Let me tell you a story. There was a young guy who grew up supporting his local football team; he even played for them as a kid. He went on to become a successful business man; one whom I suspect doesn’t play by the rules much. One day he sees an opportunity to run the board of the rival team of the aforementioned football club. They were in the middle of building a nice new stadium and there was plenty of potential money that could go missing. So he goes and works for them, creaming off some of that money. The cream of the cream is that he’s helping his boyhood team by default. It could be just that, though if I had access to the necessary records I think I’d find he has a lot of money tied up in that boyhood club. It may be through third parties, but there’d be a trail.”

I took a breath; I was still a little weak. Battersbay sat down at his desk. I stayed standing -just about.

“I think his real plan is to run that rival team into the ground. Overspend on the stadium and avoid any money coming in- like from a big cross-channel sale. Also, try and see to it that there’s plenty of negative publicity surrounding the club. When it goes under, the investment in the other club goes up and lots of players can be picked up for cheap too. After that, the main competition is gone. Perfect.”

“An interesting story.” He tried to laugh, “I gather this is just a theory and you have no proof.”

“One thing you didn’t mean for was the murder. That was messy- Sandy Shaw was only meant to rough her up a little. But even then, you didn’t stop, you just changed strategy a little- you didn’t even care about the girl.”

“Very entertaining indeed. I noticed I became the lead villain in you fantastical story there.”

“I don’t think the police will see it as too fantastic. More to the point- any minute now- Shaw will start chirping and the next sound you’ll hear will be the police sirens.”

“That’s enough!” said Battersbay suddenly, pulling a gun from his desk drawer. “You stupid fool- what did you have to go on snooping for?”

He stood up and his large bulk came towards me.

“This won’t do you any good,” I said calmly with my arms raising up, backing towards the door. I thought Martin would have arrived by now and I was getting pretty worried.

“It doesn’t matter now- you’re right. But I still have time to get away.”

He aimed the gun at me, “Goodbye Mr Chapman.”

Thankfully the door burst open and John Patton lunged at him. He had heard every word. The gun went off, ripping flesh. Patton fell away with a cry. I ran at Battersbay before he could aim again, swiping the gun from his hand. He grappled for my throat, but I broke his grip with a punch to the stomach. He went down cold then as I caught him with a right hook. It was a nice punch. I rang Martin and told him he was late.

I went to visit Patton a few days later at the hospital. He was doing okay. He was somewhat of a hero in the local media, along with my good self. I saw no need for anyone to think differently about either of us. He thanked me for my help and discretion and assured me that the club would be covering all my recent expenses. Battersbay wouldn’t be getting out of jail this side of eighty after Shaw filled in the remaining gaps to the police.

I went for a walk, still easing out the bruises in my body; it was a nice day. I sat in the Botanic Park and ate a sandwich. I realised it was Saturday and went to watch the match.