One for the Pot

"Yes, dear, everything's fine."

"You're not missing anything then?"

"No, sweetheart, only you."

"What about this, then?" she asked. She brought her hand from behind her back and opened it, showing a ring box.

Andrew almost snatched the box from her hand, and looked inside. It contained Fred Atkins' wedding ring. "What . . . How . . . Where did you get this?" he stammered.

"Audrey Wagstaff gave it to me. You know that teapot she bought this morning? Well, she took it to the beauty parlour for Eugenie, but as she handed it over, she heard something rattle inside, and this is what she found. Of course, she realised immediately that it must be Kitty's wedding ring, what with you being best man and all, so she gave it to me at the jumble sale this afternoon. Honestly, darling, what a cliché, the best man losing the wedding ring!"

"But how did you and Audrey know about the wedding? It's supposed to be a secret."

"And it is, darling, but you don't think a girl is going to get married and not tell all her friends about it? It's still a secret though, because she swore each and every one of us to secrecy, and I haven't told anyone else without swearing them to secrecy too."

"But I have spoken to Audrey since this morning. Why didn't she tell me she had found the ring?"

"Oh, really, darling, sometimes you are dense! How could she, when the wedding is a secret?"

"But if she knew I was the best man, she must have known that I already knew about it."

"Of course you knew about it, darling, and she knew that you knew about it, but you didn't know that she knew that you knew, and if she had mentioned it to you, it wouldn't have been a secret any more, would it?"

"That doesn't make sense."

"Maybe not to you, darling, but it does to us girls. You men, you haven't the slightest idea how to keep a secret, have you? Anyway, all's well that ends well. You can relax now that you've got the ring back. Now I must love you and leave you, because I'm due at the salon to have my hair done for tomorrow. Bye, love."

As soon as Rosalind was gone, Andrew took from his pocket the ring box he had recovered from Audrey Wagstaff's drawing room, and opened it. It contained a lady's dress ring - a narrow silver band with a sprinkling of a few multicoloured stones. Belatedly he recalled Mrs Wagstaff saying that she had sweetened the teapot for Eugenie. He now understood what she had meant, that she had included another present within the pot, a present which he had now stolen. With dismay he realised that all his efforts had not only been unnecessary, they had made matters worse. Yet another substitution was needed to put things right again. Fortunately, now that he knew that Audrey Wagstaff was privy to the wedding, there would be no need for subterfuge. He had only to remake the package with the dress ring inside the teapot, and give it to her with an explanation and an apology.

* * *

At his shop, he found Maisie still engrossed in Girls' Fun. She must either be a very slow reader, he thought, or be committing the entire text to memory. He took a sheet of the wrapping paper, and went into the stock room to get a teapot. There were none there. Returning to the shop, he asked Maisie what had happened to them all.

"We've had quite a run on teapots, Mr Riley. The vicar bought four this morning, then this afternoon Mrs Wagstaff bought five of them, though what she would want with five teapots is beyond me. She had a couple of boy scouts with her to carry them home for her, she did. Then PC Bunting came in for one. There's only one left now, this one here on the counter. Mrs Riley has ordered two dozen more, and says you should put the price up to 3/6d."

In the stockroom, Andrew put the dress ring into the teapot. He wrapped it in the gift paper, put the package in a carrier bag, and went round to Mrs Wagstaff's house.

As he approached, he thought he saw a movement of the curtains in an upstairs room, but repeated ringing of the front door bell produced no answer from inside. Wanting to bring matters to a close, he decided to make another clandestine entry. The kitchen door was locked, but the casement window above the sink was unfastened. He opened it fully, pushed his carrier bag through onto the draining board, and climbed in. The was a slight crash and the sound of breaking china as he did so. There had been a teapot on the draining board, which he had knocked into the sink, breaking off the handle. Cursing his luck, he went through to the drawing room. Another shock awaited him there. Under the Christmas tree were six packages identical to the one he had in his bag.

* * *

After her conversation with Andrew earlier in the day, Audrey Wagstaff had had second thoughts about humiliating Eugenie Lascelles by giving her a teapot. Still, the idea of a small expensive present inside a large cheap one appealed to her. She decided, therefore, to treat all her ladies the same way. For that reason she had bought five more teapots, into which she had repackaged her gifts to the other ladies. Reviewing her gift list, she noted that she had given Eugenie a dress ring, and she recalled hearing the mademoiselle complaining of having too many rings. On the spur of the moment, she switched the labels between Rosalind Riley's gift and Eugenie Lascelles', so that Rosalind would now get the ring, and Eugenie a brooch.

* * *

Andrew's initial shock at seeing all six presents looking the same swiftly dissipated when he realised that they all bore gift tags. He found the one bearing Eugenie's name and exchanged it with the one in his bag, transferring the tag. Knowing nothing of Mrs Wagstaff's last minute reallocation of the gifts, he supposed that he now had the empty teapot. Returning to the kitchen he unwrapped the teapot he had just taken from under the tree, and placed it on the draining board as a replacement for the broken one, the remnants of which he collected from the sink and deposited in the dustbin outside the back door, along with the wrapping paper and carrier bag. He relocked the back door, closed the window to the position in which he had found it, and looked around to see that everything was in order. Satisfied, he moved towards the front door to make his escape. As he did so, the doorbell rang, and through the frosted glass he could see the unmistakable silhouette of PC George Bunting.

* * *

The constable was still fostering dark suspicions of Andrew's behaviour. While making himself a pot of tea back at the station, he had been so agitated by the recollection of their earlier exchange that he had dropped the teapot and broken it. This necessitated a trip to the hardware shop for a replacement. He had taken the opportunity to question Maisie, and had learned that an unusual number of teapots had been sold that day, both to the vicar and to Mrs Wagstaff. He was convinced that something very strange was going on, but he had absolutely no idea what it might be. He was determined, however, to get to the bottom of it, and thought that an interview with Mrs Wagstaff might shed some light.

* * *

Andrew shrank back so as to be out of the line of sight should Bunting peer through the glass. This movement put him at the foot of the stairs. He just had to keep quiet, he thought, and with any luck Bunting would get tired of waiting, and go away. This hope was dashed when another silhouette appeared at the door, and he heard the sound of a key being inserted into the lock. Audrey Wagstaff had returned home and was about to let PC Bunting into the house.

Andrew now had no chance of returning to the kitchen without being seen. His only recourse was to retreat up the stairs, which he did as swiftly and quietly as he could. He chose a door at random and found himself in the main bedroom, face to face with Fred Atkins, who was sitting on the edge of the bed lacing his shoes. His unbuttoned shirt, loosely hanging tie, and general dishevelment indicated that he had just got dressed in a hurry. The two men looked questioningly at each other, at the same time gesturing for silence. They could hear PC Bunting and Audrey Wagstaff talking downstairs, especially Audrey, who was speaking in an unnaturally loud voice, as if wishing to be heard all over the house. Bunting could be heard admonishing Mrs Wagstaff for leaving the kitchen window unfastened, while she was assuring him that nothing was missing and he could safely leave. The constable, however, insisted on inspecting the downstairs rooms, and then wished to look upstairs also.

"I assure you that is completely unnecessary, officer," Audrey declaimed loudly. "I am sure there is nobody up there. Besides, there is no way to get in or out upstairs," adding fortissimo, "except perhaps through the back bedroom window."

Fred and Andrew quickly crossed the landing to the back bedroom. Mrs Wagstaff slowly ascended the stairs, doing her best to impede the constable's progress and view. She was startled to see two figures flit across the landing, expecting only one. She led PC Bunting into the front bedroom.

In the back bedroom Fred crossed to the rear window and raised the sash. Below was the flat roof of an outbuilding, onto which he climbed, Andrew following. They closed the window behind them, and dropped to the ground, using a handy water butt as a stepping stone. By the time that PC Bunting entered the back bedroom and looked out of the window, they had disappeared around the side of the house.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Andrew demanded, "What on earth are you up to? For Heaven's sake, man, you are getting married tomorrow!"

"Exactly," replied Fred. "There's only today left for saying goodbye to all my old girl friends."

"How did you get in, anyway?"

"Audrey always keeps a key under the flower pot by the front door. Didn't you know?"

* * *

Audrey had not followed Bunting into the back room immediately, but had tarried by the front bedroom window, curious to see who had been with Fred. The two came into view as they made their way to the front gate. She was surprised to recognise Andrew Riley. She knew that a best man was expected to accompany the groom on his bachelor night out, but she never thought that the custom extended to his more intimate encounters. Perhaps it was a new fashion. It certainly held intriguing possibilities. She would have to have a discreet word with her ladies to see if their experience extended into this area.

Not wishing Bunting to leave too hard upon the heels of her other visitors, Audrey now became as anxious to detain him as she was previously to see him go. When he had looked into all the upstairs rooms and found nothing amiss, she invited him into the kitchen for a cup of tea. Checking the teapot to see if it had been emptied since its last use, she saw the brooch.

"Upon my soul!" she exclaimed. "What on earth is Eugenie's present doing here?"

"I thought you said nothing was missing from the drawing room, Mrs Wagstaff?"

They went to verify matters, and found the package addressed to Eugenie Lascelles.

"That's odd," declared Audrey, "It's still here. I'm sure I didn't have two brooches."

They opened the package and looked in the teapot. It contained the dress ring.

"Oh my! That was in Rosalind's pot! What can be going on?"

They opened Rosalind's package, and found the teapot to be empty.

"I know I put the proper labels on all of them," Audrey insisted plaintively. "I took especial care to get them right."

When they had repaired to the kitchen with the opened packages, PC Bunting's keen eye spotted a shard of broken earthenware in the sink. "Do you have a waste bin, Mrs Wagstaff?"

"Not in the kitchen. The dustbin is just outside the back door."

Bunting looked in the dustbin and saw the broken teapot and the wrapping paper discarded by Andrew. Returning to the kitchen, he declared portentously, "I think it is fairly clear what has happened here, Mrs Wagstaff."

"Not to me it isn't, constable."

"Well, madam, to start with, someone broke into your house."

"Broke in?" queried Audrey. "There's no damage to the doors or windows."

"That's because you left the window open," Bunting said accusingly. "Nevertheless, technically it's breaking and entering. Then when he was in, he broke your teapot."

"So it was 'entering and breaking' then?" Audrey suggested.

Bunting chose to ignore her. "He unwrapped Mlle Lascelles' present and put her teapot to replace the one he had broken. He put the broken teapot and the wrapping paper in the dustbin. But then he had to replace Mlle Lascelles' present, so he put Mrs Riley's in its place."

"But then he would have to replace Rosalind's - Mrs Riley's - present," Audrey pointed out.

"Ah, that's the cunning part," Bunting declared triumphantly. "He replaced that present with an empty teapot he had brought with him!"

"I see," Audrey said doubtfully, "but why didn't he just replace the broken teapot with the one he brought with him?"

"If we knew that, Mrs Wagstaff, we would know everything."

"In any case, why would anyone go to all that trouble over a few teapots?"

Bunting leaned towards her confidentially. "Tell me, Mrs Wagstaff, have you seen The Maltese Falcon?"

"I'm not sure I would recognise one if I had," Audrey replied, "but I often see a kestrel near Farthing Woods. It's the rabbits, you know. I did hear that a willow warbler had been spotted near here recently, but I find that hard to believe. They fly south for the winter, don't they? Now they might fly to Malta. Are you sure you don't mean a Maltese willow warbler?"

"I'm quite sure, madam," Bunting replied heavily. "Anyway, it was a chiffchaff."

"A Maltese chiffchaff?"

"No, not a Maltese chiffchaff, and not a Maltese willow warbler. Please pay attention, Mrs Wagstaff. The Maltese falcon wasn't a real living bird. It was the statuette of a bird, made of solid gold, and studded with the finest jewels of the orient, worth a king's ransom. But it had been painted with black lacquer, to look quite ordinary - the sort of object you might donate to a jumble sale. You bought a teapot from a jumble sale, didn't you madam?"

"Yes, I did," Audrey admitted, wondering why that innocent action had now apparently assumed sinister implications. She gave Bunting a hard stare. "So you think that one of these teapots has only been painted to look like a teapot, but is actually solid gold and studded with precious stones?"

"I wasn't speaking literally," Bunting replied impatiently. "It was analogy."

"An allergy? You think whoever did this is allergic to teapots?"

"No, no, of course not. The falcon was analogy for the teapots."

"The falcon has an allergy? Is it contagious? There are a lot of poultry farms in these parts, you know. Should we inform the Farmers' Union? Or the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries?"

Bunting took a deep breath. "What I am trying to tell you, Mrs Wagstaff, is that several unsavoury characters were looking for the Maltese falcon, and would do anything to lay their hands on it, even murder."

Audrey was by now wondering if Bunting were mad, and possibly dangerous. She edged a little further from him, looking alarmed. Bunting saw the expression on her face and thought, "Hello, that's a guilty look if I ever saw one. I may be on to something here." He remembered that the ultimate guilty party in The Maltese Falcon was played by Mary Astor, to whom Audrey Wagstaff bore some resemblance. Casting his mind over the other villains involved, he realised that Alf Wagstaff, Audrey's husband, was a fat man, not unlike Sydney Greenstreet. He concluded that the Wagstaffs were the key to the mystery. Andrew Riley was just Wilmer, their gunsel. He decided to probe further.

"What we need to know, Mrs Wagstaff, is where these teapots came from."

"That's easily answered, constable. They came from Riley's Hardware Store."

"Ah yes, ultimately. But where did Mr Riley get them from? Could it have been ..." He paused for effect, and then shot at her "... off a tramp steamer from Shanghai?"

Audrey was unperturbed. "Oh, I shouldn't think so. The Government wouldn't allow it, surely, not with the balance of payments being the way it is. We shouldn't be importing teapots from China when our own pottery industry can produce them. If anything, I should hope that we are exporting teapots."

Bunting persevered. "Or perhaps they passed through the hands of an eccentric millionaire collector in Constantinople?"

Audrey's unease increased. "Who can tell?" she replied placatingly, praying that Bunting would leave before his mania turned to violence.

Bunting was sure that he had identified the villains. His problem was what to do next. Sam Spade would simply have denounced them, leaving the police to do the boring stuff like obtaining warrants, filing complaints, and summoning witnesses. Unfortunately he, Bunting, was the police, and he was realistic enough to foresee that he would have some difficulty persuading magistrate Middleton that there was a case to answer. Magistrates lacked the imagination that was necessary to a skilled investigator like himself. He decided to put the matter on hold for the time being.

"We shall leave it there for now, madam, but I shall need to speak to you again."

"Of course, officer, of course." Relief was evident in Audrey Wagstaff's voice as she ushered him out of the front door.

Bunting took two steps down the path, then paused and over his shoulder uttered a caution. "Mind you don't leave the country." Then he was gone.

* * *

That evening Fred Atkins called on Andrew Riley and told him that he and Kitty had talked things over and had decided to call the wedding off. "We both agree that it would be a mistake, so I'm letting you know it's off, before you go to any trouble."

Andrew regarded him unsympathetically. "What a pity. And after you've said goodbye to all your old girlfriends too."

"That's all right, old man. I'll just have to go round and say hello again to all of them, shan't I?"

* * *

Reviewing the events of the day as he prepared for bed that night, PC Bunting concluded that there was too much fiction extolling the actions of private investigators, and little or none about the real police. He thought he might redress the balance by writing some stories based on his own experiences. He took out an unused exercise book and sharpened a 2B pencil. On the front cover he wrote:

"THE CASE BOOK OF PC BUNTING: George Bunting"

He opened the book and started writing:

"1. The Case of the Maltese Teapot

"A crash woke me, and I leapt panther-like from my bed, truncheon in hand. One swift glance was all it took to tell me everything I needed to know. The teapot lay in pieces on the floor. It had not been a particularly good teapot. I had more than once considered replacing it myself. But it had been my teapot, and when somebody breaks your teapot, you are supposed to do something about it."

Pleased with what he regarded as a promising start, he went to bed. Audrey Wagstaff might have been surprised to know the role she played in his dreams.

* * *