From his vantage point David could see with his binoculars there were lights on in the tailor’s shop near the café. The main window had a curtain pulled across it, so it was impossible for him to see directly inside the shop. A small blue Morris Minor van pulled up outside the tailor’s and a short, stumpy-looking bald man got out of the driver’s side. He then opened the rear doors and lifted out two armloads of what appeared to be plastic-wrapped dry-cleaning. As he approached the front of the tailor’s a woman opened the door and took some of the items from him. A few minutes later the man left in the Morris Minor van and returned half an hour later with another bundle of plastic-wrapped clothes, which he took inside the shop.
David was concerned and pressed the button on his walkie-talkie to make contact with his brother in the café. Silas answered and listened as David told him about the activity outside the tailor’s shop, but as it was four shops down he was not unduly worried. John came on the radio and told David to keep contact to a minimum, unless it was something really important.
It was coming up to almost 10 p.m. when David saw a man wearing a baseball cap and raincoat walking arm in arm with a woman along the street. They stopped by the tailor’s and the man pressed the bell. After a while he saw the blind on the entrance door lift and the short stumpy man let the couple in before closing the door behind them. It didn’t appear suspicious, even at that late hour, and David just assumed it was someone who had arranged a fitting or was picking up some clothes.
However, Mannie Charles, the shop owner, was totally freaked out when DCI Bradfield and Kath Morgan showed their warrant cards and asked to have a chat with him.
Bradfield, in case of a lookout in the vicinity, had parked the unmarked CID car down a side street and walked to Mannie’s shop. Bradfield knew who Mannie Charles was, but had never actually met him until now.
‘Oy vey, you’re giving me heart failure. I done nothing wrong, I swear on my son’s life – it’s all kosher,’ Mannie pleaded nervously as Bradfield followed him in.
Bradfield calmed him down. ‘Nothing to do with your business, Mannie. I just want to ask a few questions you might be able to help us with.’ He looked around the dimly lit shop which was stacked with rolls of fabric on shelves lining the walls. On the counter there were more rolls of fabric and some swatches, along with two tailor’s dummies draped in a pinstriped wool material.
‘I’ve only just collected the suits from the Horne warehouse manager, but I should have all the alterations done by mid-week and ready for delivery,’ he said, and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket before continuing. ‘Let’s see. Ah, Mr Bradfield, I got you down for dark navy with silk lining, double-breasted and very good quality, a forty chest, thirty-four waist, thirty-six inside leg. Is that right, Mr Bradfield?’
Kath was puzzled, wondering exactly what Mannie was on about as Bradfield smiled and said he had ordered a new suit, but that was not what he had come about.
‘My wife’s out the back. She’s working on the suits I’ve just brought in. I can fit yours now, make sure it’s just right.’
Bradfield said he was sure the suit would be fine and his wife might be able to help with their enquiries, though this just seemed to worry Mannie even more and he said she was a bit of a klutz. The three of them headed through a door with mottled-glass panels which led into the sewing and fitting room. It was larger than the shop front, with a tall window at the back that had brown paper plastered across it and metal security bars. Next to it there was a heavy metal door that was padlocked, which obviously led to the back yard of the premises. Two big electric sewing machines dominated the room, and there were tables and more stacks of wool and linen samples. Mrs Charles, a diminutive woman with a curved back, was sitting by an old-fashioned pedal-operated sewing machine. She peered over the rim of her half-moon glasses as they entered.
‘What do vey want?’
Mannie gestured for her to get on with her work. Using a small pair of scissors, she was removing labels from a heap of suit jackets and tossing them into a bin.
‘Voz iz the matter, bubbee?’ she asked her husband.
Bradfield reassured her. ‘Nothing to concern or worry you, Mrs Charles. We’re just here to have a chat with Mannie about some suits we want made up,’ he said, deciding it was best not to involve her for the time being.
Mannie told his wife to go and make herself a cup of coffee. She took off her glasses and had to clutch the end of the table to stand. She was badly hunched and shuffled her way into a small kitchen area and closed the door.
‘OK, Mannie, I’m wondering if you have seen anything suspicious happening around here recently.’
His eyes and mouth widened. ‘Like what, Mr Bradfield?’
