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Originally posted by RodCrosby
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"THE SOLUTION", entirely consistent with the evidence...
FACTS
Parry had a car. Parry had criminal propensities. Moreover, Parry had demonstrated his criminal propensities extended to cars. (the North John Street incident, and others)
At the risk of stating the obvious, a car is a very useful tool for a criminal to have. It enables one to move very quickly from one place to another, and is ideally suited for stalking people. Wallace was a particularly easy target to stalk, with his distinctive height and dress, and probable poor eyesight.
Parry was intimately acquainted with the Wallaces, the layout of their home and Wallace's business methods around Anfield and Clubmoor. Parry was also intimately acquainted with the City Cafe and the North John St. area.
Parry may have borne a grudge against Wallace, or the Prudential, or both. In any case, he was aware of the criminal opportunities offered at the Wallace home.
Parry was accomplished at amateur dramatics, and could plausibly have disguised his voice.
Parry seemed to have a large circle of friends, and it's possible some of them had criminal propensities similar to his own (he would later be convicted of car theft, acting with others).
However, Parry would know (as it transpired, correctly) that the finger of suspicion would automatically point to him if anything untoward occurred at the Wallace house...
Therefore, how to achieve his goal of robbing Wallace and the Prudential while ensuring his liberty?
Parry needed a plan, an alibi and an accomplice....
THE PLAN
Parry had 'cased' the Wallace house on many previous occasions during his visits. He knew exactly where the money was kept in the kitchen. He had witnessed Wallace's methodical, plodding dedication to his job. He knew Wallace might fall for a telephone message (in 1931 ownership of a telephone signified wealth. That was something he had learned during his own time working for the Pru. "A telephone call is a great prospect!" all the boys said...) He further knew of Wallace's well-publicised chess-matches held at the City Cafe. He had often seen Wallace there, and acknowledged him on the occasions Parry was at the Cafe for his amateur dramatic nights. What better place to leave a spurious telephone message for Wallace? Is it just a co-incidence that the last time Wallace recalled seeing Parry in the City Cafe was in November 1930, just as the chess championship listing was posted up on the board?
Like most young men with a new car, Parry had travelled far and wide across Liverpool at all hours, exploring its highways and rat-runs. One evening he had wound up in Mossley Hill and, turning his car into Menlove Gardens, he had discovered this triangular affair had no Menlove Gardens East. How curious! he remarked to himself, committing the fact to memory.
Later, this address came to mind as a location to which Wallace might be lured. Parry was meticulous in his planning. How long might it take for Wallace to get there? Parry spent an evening in his car following trams from Belmont Road to Menlove Avenue. He watched them stop at Smithdown Rd, disgorging passengers, who then boarded another tram on to Penny Lane and Menlove Avenue. Nearly 30 minutes! And the same on the way back, don't forget. A whole hour. Throw in the time it would take for Wallace to walk from/to Wolverton Street, and knowing that pettifogging old Wallace would not leave Menlove Gardens or Mossley Hill until he had exhausted all possibilities, and that time would rise to about an hour and a half. Tops, say. Plenty of time for someone to screw the Wallace house. But that someone can't be me, for obvious reasons...
Enter Mr."M", another wide-boy in Parry's own mould, perhaps a little older. Parry and "M" go through the plan several times, while stalking Wallace around Anfield in the car. There he his! the old bugger! What a lark! To see the look on Wallace's miserable face when he realises he's been had.
THE CRIME
Monday 19th January, 1931, 7.00pm. Parry and "M" sit in the car at a vantage point where they can see Wallace heading for the tram. Wallace appears at about 7.14pm. Mr "M" exits the car and follows Wallace to the tram stop. Perhaps he even boards the tram and follows Wallace all the way to the chess club, just to be sure. Parry makes the Qualtrough phone-call to the City Cafe at 7.15pm. Parry, who has convictions for robbing phone boxes, cannot resist bamboozling the operator into giving him a free call. The Anfield exchange logs the call. He is nervous, and Beattie's non-committal responses lead Parry into a slip. To impress upon Beattie the urgency of his message Parry dreams-up on the spur of the moment "my girl's 21st" [Parry is expecting a formal invitation to a 21st birthday party for "his girl" and himself from Leslie Williamson.] On hanging up, Parry jumps back in his car and makes the 3-minute drive to Missouri Rd, arriving a little after 7.20pm. Perhaps later that evening Parry travels into Liverpool city centre to rendezvous with "M", or to observe Wallace leaving the chess club a little after 10 pm. In any event they calculate that Wallace has taken the bait, and go through the final preparations for the following night...
Tuesday 20th January, 1931. Wallace returns to Wolverton Street a little after 6pm. After tea and scones with Julia, Wallace prepares for his journey to Mossley Hill. The newspaper drops on the mat, and a few minutes later, at around 6.40pm Julia takes in the milk from Alan Close. At around 6.45pm Wallace and Julia walk down the back-yard, and Wallace takes his leave, Julia bolting the back-yard gate. Julia commences clearing away the tea things, then sits down to read the Liverpool Echo at 7pm....
She has reached the middle-pages of the paper, when just after 7.15pm she hears a faint rapping on the front-door letterbox. Startled, she rises and approaches the front door.
"Who's there?" she calls.
"Is Mr. Wallace there?" a voice replies.
"Who is it?", Julia repeats.
"I have an appointment with Mr. Wallace. My name is Qualtrough!"
Julia opens the door.
"I'm sorry I'm a little early. I take it Mr. Wallace got my message?" says Qualtrough.
"Yes, but..... I don't understand. I suppose you'd better come in Mr. Qualtrough. There seems to have been a misunderstanding."
Julia Wallace shows Qualtrough into the front parlour, and she stoops to light the fire as Qualtrough carries on chatting. "I don't understand it Mrs. Wallace. I was very clear in my message, that I would be coming here tonight at 7.30pm to see your husband on an important insurance matter..." Confused, and a little embarrassed, Julia bids him sit on the chaise-longue. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Qualtrough, but there has obviously been a mix-up. I cannot understand it. How odd? Would you mind waiting until my husband returns? Let me take your coat..."
"Not at all, Mrs. Wallace.." says Qualtrough, as he hands her his coat.
"Would you like a cup of tea? I don't suppose my husband will be long, once he realises the mistake."
"No thank-you. Indeed, my wife will explain to him what has occurred.", says Qualtrough as he relaxes into the cushions on the chaise-longue... Julia notices Qualtrough is wearing a pair of leather gloves. It must be cold outside, she muses to herself.
Julia leaves Qualtrough in the parlour, hangs up his coat in the hall and returns to the back kitchen, her mind a whirl. How could William make such a mistake? How awful. Poor Mr. Qualtrough, coming all this way. William will be annoyed with himself when he gets back. But I suppose he's not to blame. It must be that something got garbled on the telephone at the chess club...
Julia, a bit nervous and cold after answering the front door needs to spend a penny. The effects of the previous cups of tea are now working, and in any case Julia suffers from long-term incontinence... She traipses up the stairs to the bathroom.
She cannot hear Qualtrough creep quietly into the vestibule, and slip the bolt on the front door... Entering the middle kitchen, Qualtrough hears the floorboards creak in the bathroom directly above him. He moves straight to the bookshelves to the left of the range. In a flash, he has jumped on a chair, taken down the cash-box and broken its catch. Qualtrough snatches the bank notes and replaces the box. He does not notice in his haste that a few coins have scattered on the floor to the right of the range... Qualtrough hears the chain being pulled above him, and quietly slips out of the kitchen and back into the parlour. ...
Julia clumps down the stairs and enters the parlour. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a cup of tea, Mr. Qualtrough?"
"No thank-you" he replies quietly.
Julia vaguely notices that Qualtrough has not yet taken-off his gloves....
While pottering around the kitchen and back-kitchen, Julia notices some coins on the floor. An uneasy feeling begins to rise in the pit of Julia's stomach. Where is William? Dear God, let him return soon to deal with this strange man...
Julia looks at the clock on the mantelpiece in the kitchen. It is a little past 8pm. Where did William say he was going? Mossley Hill? Julia is not a native of Liverpool, and she does not have an intimate knowledge of its geography. But she has a funny idea Mossley Hill is not far from Calderstones Park, where she and William spent a pleasant afternoon recently. Gulp. That was quite a long way. They were there for several hours. Panic begins to rise in Julia's breast for the first time. What to do... What to do.... I can't confront him, but I can't stay in this house a moment longer with him! Calm down, Julia!
Julia enters the hall, and quietly takes down William's mackintosh from its hook. She detects an aroma of William on it, which gives her a little comfort....
"Oh, Mrs. Wallace!"
Julia freezes. "Yyyess?"
"Would you come here a moment?"
Julia enters the parlour with the mackintosh over her right arm.
"Going... somewhere?" asks Qualtrough, nonchalantly eyeing the mackintosh.
"Why no! Well, yes, I .. I just need to ask the neighbours something. The cat! I think they have my cat!" Julia stammers, her eyes fixed on Qualtrough's still leather-clad hands.
Qualtrough sees the fear in her eyes, and rises from the chaise-longue. "Perhaps I'd better go..."
"Yes! No... wait a minute. My husband will be back any moment. I.. I'm going for... just next door for a moment."
"I can let that happen!" says Qualtrough, grabbing her left arm, and flinging her across the room. Julia Wallace falls in a heap, partially over the gas fire, losing her grip on the mac', which immediately catches light. In a panic, Qualtrough snatches the iron bar from next to the fire and batters Julia over the head. "Damn you, you silly cow!" Blood spurts from right to left across the room, and Julia rolls over onto her back near the settee. She is still alive, and moaning. Qualtrough grabs the mac' away from the fire and pats down the flames with his feet. He rolls Julia on to her front and administers another 10 blows to the back of her head with the iron bar...
Qualtrough runs upstairs and quickly searches around for further valuables. In the middle-bedroom he finds a jar. "Just my luck! Stinking 'Treasury Notes' - about to be phased out, and probably traceable in any case... Leave this crap [Parry, you bloody idiot...]"
Qualtrough glances at his watch. Christ! It's nearly twenty-past eight. Time to be going. Better take that iron bar with me...
Qualtrough retrieves his coat from the hall and slips out through the back kitchen. He pauses at the yard-gate for a moment, listening for any sound, before slipping the bolt and exiting down the alley. He turns right into Redbourn St, down the alley, then crosses Lower Breck Rd, and goes into the darkened recreation ground, his pre-arranged pickup point. It is two minutes since he left number 29 Wolverton Street...
It is a little after 8.20pm. Richard Gordon Parry looks nervously at his watch. "Well, Mrs. Brine, I'd better be getting off to Lily's now. Thanks for the tea..." Parry leaves 43 Knocklaid Rd and jumps in his car, and realises he needs more cigarettes. He has been chain-smoking all evening. It is a 40 second journey from Number 43 Knocklaid Rd to the Post Office on Maiden Lane. Another 30 seconds and Parry is off again, up Maiden Lane. He turns left into Townsend Lane. Parry is beaming. "I wouldn't miss this for the world!", he chuckles. "To see the look on that old fool's face, as he trudges back to Wolverton Street. He'll be getting off his tram anytime now. That'll teach you, Wallace, to poke your nose into my affairs!"
Parry turns left at the Triangle into Lower Breck Road, and left again into the pitch-black darkness of the recreation ground. The journey from the Post Office has taken a little over three minutes...
"M" emerges from the shadows and slides into the passenger seat. "How did it go?", asks Parry breathlessly, grinning from ear to ear.
"M" is tense, his face ashen. "Badly..." he tersely replies.
"How do you mean?" asks Parry.
"Well, there wasn't much money, and.... she's not as daft or as doddery as you said she was... She smelt a rat, and I...I had to give her a 'tap'...", says "M".
"That's a gutter..." Parry replies, the grin instantly disappearing from his face.
"Listen Parry..." says "M", "you are in this with me up to your neck. Take me home now and.....Get Rid of These!" "M" pulls out a pair of leather gloves from his pocket, and stuffs them into the glove compartment in front of him. He simultaneously slips an iron bar from his sleeve onto the footwell floor....
Later, in the early hours, Parry slips the bar down the drain outside Dr. Curwen's house on Priory Road, and takes his car for a wash at Atkinsons' Garage...
A week later, having regained a semblance of calm, Parry and "M" return to Atkinsons' together, and intimidate vulnerable John Parkes into silence.
FACTS
Parry had a car. Parry had criminal propensities. Moreover, Parry had demonstrated his criminal propensities extended to cars. (the North John Street incident, and others)
At the risk of stating the obvious, a car is a very useful tool for a criminal to have. It enables one to move very quickly from one place to another, and is ideally suited for stalking people. Wallace was a particularly easy target to stalk, with his distinctive height and dress, and probable poor eyesight.
Parry was intimately acquainted with the Wallaces, the layout of their home and Wallace's business methods around Anfield and Clubmoor. Parry was also intimately acquainted with the City Cafe and the North John St. area.
Parry may have borne a grudge against Wallace, or the Prudential, or both. In any case, he was aware of the criminal opportunities offered at the Wallace home.
Parry was accomplished at amateur dramatics, and could plausibly have disguised his voice.
Parry seemed to have a large circle of friends, and it's possible some of them had criminal propensities similar to his own (he would later be convicted of car theft, acting with others).
However, Parry would know (as it transpired, correctly) that the finger of suspicion would automatically point to him if anything untoward occurred at the Wallace house...
Therefore, how to achieve his goal of robbing Wallace and the Prudential while ensuring his liberty?
Parry needed a plan, an alibi and an accomplice....
THE PLAN
Parry had 'cased' the Wallace house on many previous occasions during his visits. He knew exactly where the money was kept in the kitchen. He had witnessed Wallace's methodical, plodding dedication to his job. He knew Wallace might fall for a telephone message (in 1931 ownership of a telephone signified wealth. That was something he had learned during his own time working for the Pru. "A telephone call is a great prospect!" all the boys said...) He further knew of Wallace's well-publicised chess-matches held at the City Cafe. He had often seen Wallace there, and acknowledged him on the occasions Parry was at the Cafe for his amateur dramatic nights. What better place to leave a spurious telephone message for Wallace? Is it just a co-incidence that the last time Wallace recalled seeing Parry in the City Cafe was in November 1930, just as the chess championship listing was posted up on the board?
Like most young men with a new car, Parry had travelled far and wide across Liverpool at all hours, exploring its highways and rat-runs. One evening he had wound up in Mossley Hill and, turning his car into Menlove Gardens, he had discovered this triangular affair had no Menlove Gardens East. How curious! he remarked to himself, committing the fact to memory.
Later, this address came to mind as a location to which Wallace might be lured. Parry was meticulous in his planning. How long might it take for Wallace to get there? Parry spent an evening in his car following trams from Belmont Road to Menlove Avenue. He watched them stop at Smithdown Rd, disgorging passengers, who then boarded another tram on to Penny Lane and Menlove Avenue. Nearly 30 minutes! And the same on the way back, don't forget. A whole hour. Throw in the time it would take for Wallace to walk from/to Wolverton Street, and knowing that pettifogging old Wallace would not leave Menlove Gardens or Mossley Hill until he had exhausted all possibilities, and that time would rise to about an hour and a half. Tops, say. Plenty of time for someone to screw the Wallace house. But that someone can't be me, for obvious reasons...
Enter Mr."M", another wide-boy in Parry's own mould, perhaps a little older. Parry and "M" go through the plan several times, while stalking Wallace around Anfield in the car. There he his! the old bugger! What a lark! To see the look on Wallace's miserable face when he realises he's been had.
THE CRIME
Monday 19th January, 1931, 7.00pm. Parry and "M" sit in the car at a vantage point where they can see Wallace heading for the tram. Wallace appears at about 7.14pm. Mr "M" exits the car and follows Wallace to the tram stop. Perhaps he even boards the tram and follows Wallace all the way to the chess club, just to be sure. Parry makes the Qualtrough phone-call to the City Cafe at 7.15pm. Parry, who has convictions for robbing phone boxes, cannot resist bamboozling the operator into giving him a free call. The Anfield exchange logs the call. He is nervous, and Beattie's non-committal responses lead Parry into a slip. To impress upon Beattie the urgency of his message Parry dreams-up on the spur of the moment "my girl's 21st" [Parry is expecting a formal invitation to a 21st birthday party for "his girl" and himself from Leslie Williamson.] On hanging up, Parry jumps back in his car and makes the 3-minute drive to Missouri Rd, arriving a little after 7.20pm. Perhaps later that evening Parry travels into Liverpool city centre to rendezvous with "M", or to observe Wallace leaving the chess club a little after 10 pm. In any event they calculate that Wallace has taken the bait, and go through the final preparations for the following night...
Tuesday 20th January, 1931. Wallace returns to Wolverton Street a little after 6pm. After tea and scones with Julia, Wallace prepares for his journey to Mossley Hill. The newspaper drops on the mat, and a few minutes later, at around 6.40pm Julia takes in the milk from Alan Close. At around 6.45pm Wallace and Julia walk down the back-yard, and Wallace takes his leave, Julia bolting the back-yard gate. Julia commences clearing away the tea things, then sits down to read the Liverpool Echo at 7pm....
She has reached the middle-pages of the paper, when just after 7.15pm she hears a faint rapping on the front-door letterbox. Startled, she rises and approaches the front door.
"Who's there?" she calls.
"Is Mr. Wallace there?" a voice replies.
"Who is it?", Julia repeats.
"I have an appointment with Mr. Wallace. My name is Qualtrough!"
Julia opens the door.
"I'm sorry I'm a little early. I take it Mr. Wallace got my message?" says Qualtrough.
"Yes, but..... I don't understand. I suppose you'd better come in Mr. Qualtrough. There seems to have been a misunderstanding."
Julia Wallace shows Qualtrough into the front parlour, and she stoops to light the fire as Qualtrough carries on chatting. "I don't understand it Mrs. Wallace. I was very clear in my message, that I would be coming here tonight at 7.30pm to see your husband on an important insurance matter..." Confused, and a little embarrassed, Julia bids him sit on the chaise-longue. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Qualtrough, but there has obviously been a mix-up. I cannot understand it. How odd? Would you mind waiting until my husband returns? Let me take your coat..."
"Not at all, Mrs. Wallace.." says Qualtrough, as he hands her his coat.
"Would you like a cup of tea? I don't suppose my husband will be long, once he realises the mistake."
"No thank-you. Indeed, my wife will explain to him what has occurred.", says Qualtrough as he relaxes into the cushions on the chaise-longue... Julia notices Qualtrough is wearing a pair of leather gloves. It must be cold outside, she muses to herself.
Julia leaves Qualtrough in the parlour, hangs up his coat in the hall and returns to the back kitchen, her mind a whirl. How could William make such a mistake? How awful. Poor Mr. Qualtrough, coming all this way. William will be annoyed with himself when he gets back. But I suppose he's not to blame. It must be that something got garbled on the telephone at the chess club...
Julia, a bit nervous and cold after answering the front door needs to spend a penny. The effects of the previous cups of tea are now working, and in any case Julia suffers from long-term incontinence... She traipses up the stairs to the bathroom.
She cannot hear Qualtrough creep quietly into the vestibule, and slip the bolt on the front door... Entering the middle kitchen, Qualtrough hears the floorboards creak in the bathroom directly above him. He moves straight to the bookshelves to the left of the range. In a flash, he has jumped on a chair, taken down the cash-box and broken its catch. Qualtrough snatches the bank notes and replaces the box. He does not notice in his haste that a few coins have scattered on the floor to the right of the range... Qualtrough hears the chain being pulled above him, and quietly slips out of the kitchen and back into the parlour. ...
Julia clumps down the stairs and enters the parlour. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a cup of tea, Mr. Qualtrough?"
"No thank-you" he replies quietly.
Julia vaguely notices that Qualtrough has not yet taken-off his gloves....
While pottering around the kitchen and back-kitchen, Julia notices some coins on the floor. An uneasy feeling begins to rise in the pit of Julia's stomach. Where is William? Dear God, let him return soon to deal with this strange man...
Julia looks at the clock on the mantelpiece in the kitchen. It is a little past 8pm. Where did William say he was going? Mossley Hill? Julia is not a native of Liverpool, and she does not have an intimate knowledge of its geography. But she has a funny idea Mossley Hill is not far from Calderstones Park, where she and William spent a pleasant afternoon recently. Gulp. That was quite a long way. They were there for several hours. Panic begins to rise in Julia's breast for the first time. What to do... What to do.... I can't confront him, but I can't stay in this house a moment longer with him! Calm down, Julia!
Julia enters the hall, and quietly takes down William's mackintosh from its hook. She detects an aroma of William on it, which gives her a little comfort....
"Oh, Mrs. Wallace!"
Julia freezes. "Yyyess?"
"Would you come here a moment?"
Julia enters the parlour with the mackintosh over her right arm.
"Going... somewhere?" asks Qualtrough, nonchalantly eyeing the mackintosh.
"Why no! Well, yes, I .. I just need to ask the neighbours something. The cat! I think they have my cat!" Julia stammers, her eyes fixed on Qualtrough's still leather-clad hands.
Qualtrough sees the fear in her eyes, and rises from the chaise-longue. "Perhaps I'd better go..."
"Yes! No... wait a minute. My husband will be back any moment. I.. I'm going for... just next door for a moment."
"I can let that happen!" says Qualtrough, grabbing her left arm, and flinging her across the room. Julia Wallace falls in a heap, partially over the gas fire, losing her grip on the mac', which immediately catches light. In a panic, Qualtrough snatches the iron bar from next to the fire and batters Julia over the head. "Damn you, you silly cow!" Blood spurts from right to left across the room, and Julia rolls over onto her back near the settee. She is still alive, and moaning. Qualtrough grabs the mac' away from the fire and pats down the flames with his feet. He rolls Julia on to her front and administers another 10 blows to the back of her head with the iron bar...
Qualtrough runs upstairs and quickly searches around for further valuables. In the middle-bedroom he finds a jar. "Just my luck! Stinking 'Treasury Notes' - about to be phased out, and probably traceable in any case... Leave this crap [Parry, you bloody idiot...]"
Qualtrough glances at his watch. Christ! It's nearly twenty-past eight. Time to be going. Better take that iron bar with me...
Qualtrough retrieves his coat from the hall and slips out through the back kitchen. He pauses at the yard-gate for a moment, listening for any sound, before slipping the bolt and exiting down the alley. He turns right into Redbourn St, down the alley, then crosses Lower Breck Rd, and goes into the darkened recreation ground, his pre-arranged pickup point. It is two minutes since he left number 29 Wolverton Street...
It is a little after 8.20pm. Richard Gordon Parry looks nervously at his watch. "Well, Mrs. Brine, I'd better be getting off to Lily's now. Thanks for the tea..." Parry leaves 43 Knocklaid Rd and jumps in his car, and realises he needs more cigarettes. He has been chain-smoking all evening. It is a 40 second journey from Number 43 Knocklaid Rd to the Post Office on Maiden Lane. Another 30 seconds and Parry is off again, up Maiden Lane. He turns left into Townsend Lane. Parry is beaming. "I wouldn't miss this for the world!", he chuckles. "To see the look on that old fool's face, as he trudges back to Wolverton Street. He'll be getting off his tram anytime now. That'll teach you, Wallace, to poke your nose into my affairs!"
Parry turns left at the Triangle into Lower Breck Road, and left again into the pitch-black darkness of the recreation ground. The journey from the Post Office has taken a little over three minutes...
"M" emerges from the shadows and slides into the passenger seat. "How did it go?", asks Parry breathlessly, grinning from ear to ear.
"M" is tense, his face ashen. "Badly..." he tersely replies.
"How do you mean?" asks Parry.
"Well, there wasn't much money, and.... she's not as daft or as doddery as you said she was... She smelt a rat, and I...I had to give her a 'tap'...", says "M".
"That's a gutter..." Parry replies, the grin instantly disappearing from his face.
"Listen Parry..." says "M", "you are in this with me up to your neck. Take me home now and.....Get Rid of These!" "M" pulls out a pair of leather gloves from his pocket, and stuffs them into the glove compartment in front of him. He simultaneously slips an iron bar from his sleeve onto the footwell floor....
Later, in the early hours, Parry slips the bar down the drain outside Dr. Curwen's house on Priory Road, and takes his car for a wash at Atkinsons' Garage...
A week later, having regained a semblance of calm, Parry and "M" return to Atkinsons' together, and intimidate vulnerable John Parkes into silence.
Rod, I believe you've posted the same thing on the YOLIVERPOOL boards. It is not at all entirely consistent with the facts. But, you do have good prose
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