THE SHOP-LIFTER

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 282, 29 November 1938, Page 19

THE SHOP-LIFTER

Short Story

By LEONARD GRIBBLE

young woman in the dyed rabbit * coat sauntered through the large department store, the wicker basket in her gloved hand dangling below her knee. She asked prices, lingered and dallied over articles on display, and an onlooker with sufficient imagination might have considered that she was taking precaution to m.iko .-me that the uniformed girls behind tho ianes of counters would recognise her again—if the need aros , . , .

that man"— *he fla-hed the unhappy detective a killing glanc-e—"treated me. Disgraceful I call it—scandalous." ".Madam, surelv you will overlook a little—'' * * "i'll overlook nothing,' , she broke in spitefully. "I've been treated like a shop-lifter. What will my friends say, my family? I'm going to vindicate myrclf in <-ourt. and everybody can read in the papers what sort of store this is." With an eloquent gesture of contempt >lie threw the receipt for the pyjamas on to the manager's desk. He looked over it. and a pained expression crossed his face. He glanced at the detective, silent liy the door into the corridor and ehook his head. '•Regrettable, Simmonds," he sighed. '■Regrettable. This is going to cost the store a lot of money —" "Not a penny under £.~>0," said the woman swiftly. '"Not a penny —" •'[ can see you are not going to adopt a charitable view, madam,"' said the manager. "Then you can see what's under your nose,"' she retorted brusquely. "This time your precious detective has been too clever, and perhaps it will teach him a lesson, not to pounce on an unprotected woman." The detective consoled himself with a prodigious sniff. ''Did you buy anything else in the store?" ai=ked the manager. "Xo, and that's not the point. Let's get down to business. Half a score of people saw this man arrest me, drag me off, and talk to me as though I'd committed a great crime. That's injurious to my reputation, and I'm subject to shock. A thing like, this, with a pereon like me, could ea-sily have unsuspected repercussions—" "I can well believe it," murmured the manager drily. "I'm going to see my solicitor at once. He'll probably set the figure higher than £50.

The stton* was not crowded. People moved freely from one department to another, without herding. It wa«'m»t a sale day. nor were Uryman'-* offering any of their spectacular bargains or epic reductions, to quote from the terminology of their advertising department. It was ju*t a between day. whichrnienns a day on which the hard-worke<l staff siglu-d with relief. In fact, it was an ideal day for the woman in the dyed-rabbit coat to linger o\er her purchase of u suit of pyjamas of striking shades of red and gre.'ii. 'I he assistant had inone else to attend to just then. After handling pyjamas of nearly every combination of colours in the spe, , - truni the red-aiid-grcen suit was finally chosen. "YouVe sure they'll wash well'.'" queried the woman. The assistant was very sure. Sho made out a bill, received a ten shilling note from the woman, and sent money and bill down a compressed air shaft. "Won't keen you 1<11155. ni:idum,"' she .'aid, and began folding the pyjamas into a neat pile. "Don't bother to —"' began the woman, to end with .sudden, "Oh! ,, "I be;: your pardon. Aery careless of me." The man in the neat Mue suit with the bill's and white spotted tie smiled, affably. "I hope I didn't hurt you." The woman e-miled in return. "Xo, I'm afrail it wns my fault.' . The man coughed into his hand, nodded, and moved off up the lane, between the counter?. The assistant began to repack the pyjamas. ''Don't bother to do them up.' , said the woman, producing her wicker basket. 'Til just drop them in iny bap." "It's no trouble." said the assistant. "All the •iaine,"' put in the woman quickly. "I'd prefer to have them in my basket,"' Shi- reached out a hnnJ. snatched up tlie pyjamas, ami dropped them carelessly into the basket. The sleeves of the' jacket draped over one side. "There, they'll be all right. And you know what these smal , flats arepaper bags all ever the place Very untidy, and one has little time to— Ah!"

The manager dipped his hands into the basket that now reposed on the sleek mahogany expanse of his desk. He drew out the pyjamas, held them up. From the legs of the trousers dropped a couple of pairs of stockings. "Oh!"

The closing exclamation was apparently caused by the arrival of the eUniped and receipted bill, with the few pence chang". The woman tucked money and bill into her handbagr. and with a last smile for the assistant moved awav Her high heels clicked a?am<t the polished blocks of the parquet flooring. She wandered through other «lopartments, swinging her basket, ftngorine goods, but purchasing nothing further Several assistants tried to mtj-r- - in the wares arranged for inspection, but her manner had changed. Shehad become furtive, qu.ck and sharp in her movements, and her smile had 'Iht made her ™y dowu a large flight of etair* to the ground floor and to tUt. "As was about to pull back the swing doors for her a man • t^i";r l ««u™. ™ like you to ■'SCfVT*™ friendliness in his voice and the look on his face was grim. Jne commissionaire gave him one glauce, and shut the doors quickly. The woman appeared ««rprieed. "I'm sorry, I don't wish to B te any way except into the street. lkoee move out of my way.' Her voice wae cold, but she had to lower her lashes to hide a look of triumphant .atW.ction that had l«ed in her evee. The man's gaze was Srerted towarde the crumpled pair of pyjamae in the woman s basket. "I'm a detective, madam, and l<l like you to step with me the manager's office," he said doggedly. Cleverly she eimulated fear, the fear of a woman trapped by her own careleesnese. Her hand plunged into the basket, and she tried to hide the pviamae. The detective's lips parted in a toothy grin, which he tried to conCe *But this is outrageous!" she complained, her eyes pleading in vain with the commissionaire. "I f have only bought a pair of pyjamae— "It will be easy for you to show receipt to the manager, madam, in tli.-.u caee But I'm sorry, you must accompany me to hU office." The store detective iwas now sure of himself. 1 have no alternative." . "But I object to being detained in thie w*y," said the woman "This is an outrage. I ehall sue the etore for wrongful detention — "This way," said the detective harshly, purposely omitting the "madam." The manager of Dryman s Store, a small, dapper man with all the keenness of a Welshmen who has risen by hie own efforts alone, looked up from the pile of papers he wae sorting ae the door opened, and the detective ushered in the woman, complaining in a loud voice of what she would do once she got out of the building. "Well, Simmoiids, what's wrong? "This woman, sir. Pair of pyjamas in her basket. I stopped her as she wae going into the street." The manager frowned. "She was not in the Ktreet, then? "Xo, sir. Just about to go out." "An error on your part, Simmonds, I fear," eaid the manager. "As long as the lady was in the store, on the premises, we have no real proof that she did not intend to pay." Simmonds looked crestfallen. It wae a credible piece of acting for a man who wanted to grin. "Yes, sir but —" "Unfortunately there are no "huts, Simmonds."

"So, sir." "Madam." said the manager, turninp to the indignant looking woman, "I

een only apologise —" "Apologise!" she cried. "This is going to cost Messrs. Dryman's a nice packet. I know my rights. Being manhandled and falsely accused by one of your snooping store detectives —and forcibly detained." "Yes, madam, but I assure you— "You'd better, let me tell you. I waent intending to pay for these pyjamas because they are already paid for. I've got the bill here in my bag. I'm going to claim 50 pounde damages for being treated like a common thief. Yes, and there's defamation of character. I don't know, either, but that I can claim personal injury for the waj

The woman looked at them with fascinated gaze, as though she dare not lielieve what she knew she was seeing. The detective took an eager pace for- | ward, checked himself, and moved | elowly bark to the door with a deep i sigh. The manager turned over the label on each pair of stockings. "Dryman's Sunshadow, special line, hreo and eleven," he read aloud. His ■yebrows lifted into high arcs over his >right eyes. "Can you—er —explain :hese?" he asked, and the docility 'had vanished from his voice. "You said you had purchased only the pyjamas, i'on have a receipt only for the pyjamas." j "It's a mistake." she said hurriedly. j •Of course, it must be. Why, I j never —" j "They were concealed in the legs of the trousers," the manager pointed out, emphasising the verb. "But I can't—" "Those stockings aren't sold on the firet floor, -where the lingerie is," the detective pointed out, quiet malice in his tone. "Xo. that's right," admitted the manager. "She must have lifted them, sir." | ''You're right, Simmonds. There isn't another explanation —is there?" The last two words were directed to the woman, still staring wide-eyed at the two pair of stockings on the mahogany desk. "Or are you going to suggest that a fairy hid them in your basket?" She flushed. "There must be an explanation —" "There is—right under your nose. I hope you, in your turn, can see it." The manager rose, his hand smote the desk. "I've wasted enough time. You did right, Simmonds in stopping thie woman.. It's a barefaced case of shoplifting. New technique, too, buying one article, and concealing others in it." "But I tell you—" "I'm sorry, you will have to save it for the court." "But you know you can't do this and get away with it." she cried angrily. "I was still on the premises—" "True, but you admitted, in the presence of witnesses, that you only bought the pyjamas. The inference, regarding the stockings, is obvious. I don't think we shall be paying you fifty pounds, Mrs. Tyran. I'm afraid the shoe will be on the other foot." She stared. "You know my name—you know me!" "Not exactly, but another gentleman does." He moved to a door behind his desk, opened it, and eaid, "Come in, I Inspector." A man in a neat blue suit with a blue ■ and white spotted tie entered. The woman's eye* narrowed as she recognised the newcomer. ' "Now I get it!" she cried. "A dirty frame-up!" The newcomer shook his head. "I must warn you against slander. Mr*. Tyran. Although speaking of frame-ups; you probably speak as an authority." '".Meaning?" she shouted truculently. "Meaning that the large stores of Nottingham and Manchester and a number of other towns in the Midlands hav e j warned the trade about a certain woman who buys an article and refuses to liave it packed, so that a detective will arrest her and she can claim damages for all the varioue reasons you have no doubt explained to Mr. Jones here. Odious publicity or a quiet settlement. They were always glad to settle, and you found it a very profitable business. This time you haven't been so successful. T hope it teaches you a lesson, Mrs. Tyran." She glared at each of the three men in turn. This time, she knew, she had failed; she had failed because someone had been waiting for her to adopt her usual method. Further, she knew that i ehe had been allowed, cleverly, to bait her own trap. Her own protestations would be used against her. She grabbed her pyjamas. "Well, I've paid for these, at any rate." she said viciously as Simmonds j piloted her into the inner room and , closed the door. The manager turned to the man in the blue suit. "Very neat work. I must congratulate you." He beamed and rubbed his hand*. "Having the etaff organised, ready for her, letting her open her mouth, as the comedians say. just to put her foot in it, and then turning the tables on her—very neat, very neat indeed, Tnspetcor." The man in the blue suit lit a cigarette and shrngged. "It was just a case of knowing your criminal type, Mr. Jones, and acting

accordingly. The old modus operandi theory in application. Given that, it's easy to prepare for the criminal with a set method. This woman is good, and she's got away with her trick heaps of times —must have made hundreds at it —but simply because of that she couldn't see the possibility of it going wrong. That was our good, luck." "The Association will be grateful, Inepector. When this case conies into court it'll provide an object lesson for the more intelligent shop-lifters—and there are plenty of them, Inspector." The man in the blue suit walked to the door. "Weill I'm glad my little scheme was successful, Mr. Jones. If I can be of service again—" "But, of course, T shall come to you, Inspector. Naturally I am very pleased." "Very kind of you. Mr. Jones. But just before I go, there's one small point. I don't use my old Scotland Yard rank now I've retired and am in business on my own. You understand?" Mr. Jones smiled, and his right eye closed. "Perfectly, Inspector." (THE END.) The characters In this etory are entirely imaginary. Xo reference is inj tended to any living person or to any public or private company. (Copvright: Publishing Arrangement with N.F.L.)