 Whitehall 1212. For the first time in its history, Scotland Yard opens its official files to bring you the true stories of some of its most baffling cases. Research for Whitehall 1212 comes from Percy Hoskins, Chief Crime Reporter of the London Daily Express. The stories for radio are written and directed by Willis Cooper. This is Chief Inspector John Davidson, who is in charge of Scotland Yard's famous black museum. Good afternoon. Can you imagine mistaking this exhibit here for a revolver or a pistol, or in fact for a gun of any kind? Here, have a look at it. It had landed on my great toe where that cab horse trod on it in December 1907. Well, thank goodness it didn't. Now, I shouldn't think that anyone in his right mind could possibly mistake this for anything, but what it obviously is, a hammer. Yet a large number of persons, some of them policemen, were at one time quite certain that it was a gun. Now, I hung it up here on the wall in the year 1929. The same year that the Air Point, the hangman, did as much for the man who used it. Now, this is Chief Inspector Reginald Porter who will tell you how it happened. Reginald? The morning of 11th January, 1929, I was handed a telegram which had been sent the night before from Southampton. One thing was obvious to me at once. That Mr. McCormick had had very little instruction on the art of eliminating unnecessary words in his telegrams. A good CID detective sergeant could have told the story in 20 fewer words, although I agree not so elegantly. In Southampton, a smart young detective sergeant smelling of pear soap and a good grade of hair oil escorted me to the scene of the discovery. The place here was formerly a garage, sir, so I'm sure you can see. Yes, I can see, Sergeant. Yes, sir. Is this the one that was padlocked? Yes, sir. Oh, as a matter of fact, both this door and the one in the rear were padlocked. The rear one is still intact. This is the one that was broken. The main entrance? Quite, sir. The men who found him broke the lock? Yes, sir. Where are they? They should be inside, sir. I'll ask the constable at the door, sir. By all means, sergeant. Yes, sir. I say comfortable. Both you gentlemen are inside, sergeant. I suppose you're looking for them, sergeant. The ones that found him. Inside, sir. Inside here, Chief Inspector. No, sir. This way, if you please. You needn't sound like a blasted shop walker, you know, sergeant. Morning, sir. Morning, constable. They'll be inside, sir. I heard you. Yes, sir. The door's open, sir. Am I blind? Yes. After you, sir. Where are they? Mr. Remington? Mr. Finn? Where do they go? Mr. Finn, are you here? Over here, sergeant. Over here. Open there, sir. What are they doing in Heaven's name? I don't know, sir. Here, sergeant. Where have I done? Behind the oil drum, sergeant. I see them. Good morning, gentlemen. Good morning, sir. They got here, sergeant. Gentlemen, this is Chief Inspector Portnut of the yard. Scotland Yard. Where'd you find him? Right down there, sir. He was crumpled up against their oil drums. Dead, sir. I can see the blood. That is blood, isn't it? I'm afraid so, sir. There's quite a lot of it, isn't there? Yes, sir, for one man, sir. Find the gun? No, sir, not yet. We're starting to look again this morning. You did find the body, though, didn't you? Oh, yes, sir. Rather, these gentlemen did. How'd you happen to find them? You're the ones that broke the lock. How'd you get in here? I haven't been briefed in this thing yet. Don't even know the murdered man's name yet. Oh, his name was... His name was... Brave Screech, sir. He was our agent. Your agent? Our company's chief inspector. Lion Oil Limited. He sold oil and petrol, sir. All these drums are ours, Chief Inspector, you see? Mr. Street was not actually our employee, you see. Just an agent. You see, we hadn't heard from him for several months. Several months? October 28th, to be precise, Finn. I hope you don't mind being precise, gentlemen. This is a murder, you understand? Sergeant. Sir. Had this man been reported missing before his body was found? Not to my knowledge, sir. I want to know why his disappearance wasn't investigated. If he was reported missing, you know. I'll check, sir. Now, gentlemen, I am to understand that your agent had not been heard from for something over two months. And new people up to now made no effort to find out why. Is that true? Well, sir... I can explain that, Inspector. Chief Inspector. Do so, please. Well, in the first place, the late Mr. Street was a man of no known relatives, according to our records. That's right, sir. He had sleeping and living quarters in the back of this building. And I suspect there was nobody to notice his absence. Weren't you people noticing? Well, the company had written to him several times regarding his failure to send in his reports of November 1st and December 1st. Isn't that unusual with your people? Not necessarily, sir. Our agents are often late in rendering their reports. Oh, yes. We did become concerned, Chief Inspector. We'd had nothing at all from Mr. Street for so long. You know, there's three consecutive monthly reports. November 1st, December 1st, and January 1st. That's right. So the company sent us down from London to investigate, you see? That was when you found his body. You found the garage door padlock front and rear, and we had no keys, of course. The premises were Mr. Street's. So I got a tire leave on my tool kit. Together we ripped the padlock off the front door. We have that padlock, sir. Be quiet, Sergeant. And then you entered and found the body. Precisely. Sergeant, we could have them both for breaking and entering. Sergeant, will you please put a sock in it? Well, sir... Sergeant. Yes, sir. You didn't use a hammer to break that padlock, gentlemen? No, sir. No, sir. Tire lever from... Well, then will you tell me what that bloody hammer's doing here? Sir, is it necessary to use such language? Sergeant, you have an evil mind. Will you look at that hammer there beside the lion mane SAE 30 oil drum? How'd that blood get all over the hammerhead if that man was shot? I left the fragrant sergeant to arrange for and supervise a draft of detectives from the Southampton police to organize and conduct an all-out search of the garage warehouse for the gun with which the victim had allegedly been killed and proceeded in good order to the mortuary by the body lay. It was not in very good shape. But a careful examination on my part convinced me that the cause of death was not a bullet but a series of wounds caused by repeated blows from a heavy object. Now, please don't at once begin to find fault with the Southampton police. The wounds resemble a great deal more than superficially those often caused by bullets. Gregory Aldous, the police surgeon, pointed this out to me. You see, here in particular, Chief Inspector, he punctured wound exactly like one made by a bullet. And here... Yes, I see. And here again. And the fractures themselves were so covered with dried blood it would be the obvious thing for a layman to say at once, a gunshot wound. I wouldn't have. You Scott and Jared chaps are geniuses, of course. Well, I will admit if I hadn't noticed that bloody hammer on the floor. Don't be so modest. I was about to say where you chaps had seen it a dozen times and paid no attention to it. I think I'd better just make sure there isn't any bullet in his head. The evidence of one having been there. Well, I'm sure I'm not going to watch you do it, Doctor. That will be helpful, sir. Mind you're careful now. I shall want to try that hammer to see if it fits those marks on the skull. So shall I, sir. Must be an extraordinary hammer to produce marks like bullet holes. It is. The end of the hammerhead opposite the striking part, the peen it's called, Doctor, is quite thin and long and about the diameter of a 38 caliber bullet. The kind of hammer often used by motor car mechanics, as Mr. Remington of Lion or Limited was good enough to point out to me. How does he know? He was once a motor car mechanic himself, my dear Doctor. And when are you going to arrest him, Chief Inspector? It had occurred to me at the very moment I was saying it to Gregory Olders. I went back to the garage to find them. He had gone back to London to report to his firm's officials, but Finn was still there, helping assiduously, but ineffectually in the search for the alleged murder gun. I sat him down in a corner of the place which rang to the voices and the noises they made as they overset racks of oil drums. Haven't found it yet, eh? Not yet. Oh, my Santa Claus, I'm tired. Tired? Those oil drums were in the neighborhood of a hundred way to peace. I've moved several million of them. Remington moved a lot too? Not really, lightly. He had to go to London. Yes, I know. Tough on you. Well, he's my boss. Fine to be a boss, isn't it? He's all right. Known him along? I met him in the Navy 20 odd years ago. I was his boss then. Huh? Wavey, Navy. We were the crew of an MTV. I was Skipper, full lieutenant. Remington was just a sub. I had a job when we were demobbed and he was going back with lion oil. He offered me one. And I've been there ever since. That before he was a motor mechanic or after? During. I ran the company's garage in Sheltonham before we got onto this job. You're both motor mechanics then? Yes. You're both familiar with that kind of hammer I found then? Oh, quite. Use dozens of them. No. Sergeant. Sergeant. Yes, sir. You want me, sir? Sergeant, that hammer's still here. The one you found, sir? Yes. Yes, sir. Take it, please, and deliver it to Dr. Gregory Aldis of the Mortuary where the body is. Dr. Gregory Aldis of the police surgeon? Yes, sir, I know him. Right, but be very careful with it. No, I will, sir. I had Geordie Tucker photograph it, sir, before I moved it and wrapped it up in paper and put it in a biscuit tin I found. I'll send it right away. Take it, I said. Yes, sir. Wait there for me. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Nice chap, that. Oh, yes, quite. So you've known Ramington a long time? Oh, yes. How long have you known this dead chap, sweetie? I never saw him till now. The first time I've ever been in Southampton even. Oh. Ramington I've known? He'd never seen him, either. Oh, hadn't he? I don't think so. He'd tell you if he had, wouldn't he? I expect so. Oh, why? Just wondered. You think Rem killed him? My dear man, how do I know you didn't? Why, you know, should we kill him? That's what I'm going to find out. Come along, I want to see this fellow's books and papers. Now then, you chaps get going there. See if you can find me that gun. Which I doubt. Come along with me, Finn. All right. This is his office, you suppose? That must be the only door in the place. Oh, then, you've got keys, haven't you? I've got no keys. Then I'll open it. Stand clear. Some use for regulation, please. Boots up to all. This must be where he slept. Frosty in here. It's a pity there isn't a window. Had he any desk? It doesn't seem to have had. Well, the man do business. He did all right. He was a good customer, even if he did live in a pigsty like this. Wonder where he kept his money. Here, what's this? What is it? I found where he kept it. A kid's money box. Well, it's empty now. Don't touch it and spoil the dabs. They're quite fingerprint. Oh, rubbery, eh? The place was locked up. All right, there's a spring lock on the door. Ah. Poor devil must have closed it himself when he came out. Oh, no. The murderer did it after he killed him and broke the money box over. Who, bladder? He must have known the place pretty well. What are you looking at me for? Where are you going? I just want to see what's in this coat there. Where? Here. Oh. How did you know it was his? Oh. What's his name? Straight. I don't. There must be, though. The murderer wouldn't leave his. Have a look at it. Give it to me. It's full of papers. Well, exactly full. Letter. Here, hold the coat. What's the matter? How well do you know your friend, Remington? What? This letter, Mr Finn, is attached to one of Street's invoices. This is the letter. It's on the stationery of Messers' Clive and Buckley of this city. It says, Yes, sir. The amount, 14 pounds, 11 shillings, mentioned in your attached invoice, was paid to your salesman, Mr Remington. What? Your salesman, Mr Remington, in cash at the time the goods were delivered. You can't, you can't. Remington didn't know the amount. We suggest that you consult your Mr Remington regarding this amount for which we hold his signed receipt. Yours is said to Clive and Buckley, for Terence Buckley's secretary's treasure. I'm afraid I must ask you again to come with me. Where? Where are you? We are going to the nearest police station, sir, where I shall telephone London to bring me Mr Remington. I'm going to consult you both. Come along with me, please. There's no trouble at all to reach Scotton Yard in London and to arrange to have Mr Remington contacted at Lyon Oil and then accompany an officer back to Southampton. In the meantime, Mr Finn consented to accept the hospitality of the Southampton police until his partner arrived. Myself, I went to the mortuary, found Gregory Aldis gone and left that gloomy place for Aldis's official quarters, where he's had talking with the sergeant. It was not so redolent of oils and unguents by now. Gregory Aldis looked at me pleasantly. Well, was I right, Chief Inspector, for your rest at Remington? You'll be in custody at once, yes. What did you discover about the hammer? It fits perfectly, sir. I was speaking to Dr Aldis, sergeant. Excuse me, sir. Does it fit the wounds, doctor? Perfectly. Good. There's no bullet in the skull, though. I hope it didn't spoil it. The trifle difficult to spoil at the skull that's been worked on by somebody with a peen hammer, sir. The sergeant here has made an interesting discovery, Chief Inspector. Oh, has he? A lot of you discovered, sergeant. Where the hammer came from, sir. What, sir? You looked at the handle, of course, sir. Of course. Of course, I looked at the handle. Why? You saw that Morris works and a number was branded on it. Sergeant, I must admit I did not. Thank you, sir. Who is this Morris works? Did you find out? If you had lived in Southampton, sir, you'd, of course, recognize it at once. Of course. Well, what's a blasted funny? That's the factory where they make the Morris motorboat, sir. The Morris works. Well, I'll be blurred. That shows you what a Londoner doesn't know, doesn't it? And what else did you discover, sergeant? Well, sir, I rang up a chap we know at the Morris works and I asked him about that number. Good, good. And he put me onto the tool-issuing department and a man there recognized it at once. Better and better. It was the number of a chap in the engineering department. A motor mechanic. You see, Elders? You were right. I was right. Go on, sergeant. Well, sir, that's the lot. We found this fellow, a name of... I wrote it down. I found this at the garage where we were hunting for the gun. There isn't any gun. Nothing but the hammer. Yes, sir. The fellow's name is... P. Gallon's... No, no, that's not it. Oh, here on the other side. Here it is. Teddy Finucan. Go out and arrest him at once, sergeant. You found him. You make the arrest. Thank you, sir. Doesn't suspect anything, does he, eh? He's not the one, sir. Well, what are you telling me? No, sir, on October 24th, last year, Finucan reported that his hammer, a spike-peen hammer, he called it. I told you, Elders. Spike-peen? Go on, sergeant. Well, he'd lent it to a man, a stranger, who never brought it back. And he had to requisition a new one. That's all, sir. Well... Sergeant, just as soon as they deliver this Remington chap from London, you and I will hurry him right down there. I would say, if time, if we got this Teddy Finucan to come up here, sir. Right. Then we'll let him identify the fellow. No by-gad. What's the matter? Let him identify whichever one of the two borrowed the hammer. If he doesn't know the man's name... He doesn't, sir. Well, that's either Fin or Remington. They're good friends. We'll see which one he identifies. Sergeant, that's extraordinarily good work. Thank you, sir. Uh, tell me. What kind of hair oil is that you use? Oh, it's a... It's an excellent taste. The identification parade to which both Remington and his friend Fin readily consented was scheduled for 10 in the morning in a vacant room at the Southampton police station to which the sergeant was attached. Mr. Teddy Finucan was seated alongside my desk with me as the crowd came in as to the long one wall. I had secured six or eight other persons to stand in with them to make it as fair as possible for the suspects. That, of course, is standard procedure. Will you gentlemen please take off your hats? Thank you. Not that there was any doubt by now. We're all ready, sir. If you please, then, Mr. Finucan. Now, will you please tell us whether you recognize any of these gentlemen, sir? Good. The first one. No. Remington was third, Fin, seventh in line. This gentleman, Mr. Finucan? Uh, no. This one, sir? I know you. Who are you, to Ted? Even after all these years? Corky Remington. Oh, I haven't seen you since the night you and I and Joe Fin were thrown into the clink together. And she and them? Where in the world have you been? Joe Fin's right here, Teddy. Why, Joe, it's Teddy. Why, Teddy, for a new reason, why are you all neither? You know them? No. They're the best pals I ever had in the Wavy Navy and the war, and I haven't seen them since. Say, Corky, what time is it? The pubs will be open any minute. I know you'll excuse us, won't you, Admiral? Oi, Corky, what are you doing here? I'm the blinkin' suspect, mate. By nine that night, they were all free in jail. The charge was under the act of 1872, in such cases made and provided, section 80 of which reads, being guilty while drunk of riotous or disorderly behavior in any highway or other public place, whether a building or not. It had been both, and the Royal Navy Volunteer Reserve had done themselves proud. Mr. Teddy Finookin, former Artificer Petty Officer attached a motor torpedo boat squadron umptiump, was able at last to master his hangover and speak to me. No, sir. Nothing ain't the man I lent my hammer to. No, sir, it's positive. I'm very sorry to have put you to all this trouble, Mr. Finookin. Pleasure, sir. But it couldn't be them. Neither one of them has a slide in his left eye. Board, starboard, right eye. Cross-eyed, you mean? Swill. I should have told you before. And I cut on his same right cheek. Big one. That's all I know. Yes, cocky. He'll be able to join you for breakfast, Mr. Finookin, I'm sure. He and Mr. Fin both. Breakfast? I shall probably join you then. Breakfast. Goodbye. Come on, Sergeant. I'm as disappointed as you are, sir. You're not old enough to be something. Yes, sir. Well, we'll find him some day. I'm not much use keeping this any longer. What is it? An accord I wrote for Newkins' name down on, sir. I picked it up at that garage where the dead man was stuck in the edge of an old drum. Anything else on it? Just a name, sir. Oh, well. Name? Gollumson, Gollumson, P. Gollumson. Never heard of him. Why should that card with a name on it be there, though? Gollumson. I don't know, sir. You ever play a hunch, Sergeant? I do all the time, sir. Do they work? Quite often, sir. Come with me. I'm going to play mine. I borrowed a telephone and Dr. Gregory Aldis' office at the police station. A drunk call, sir? I'll get it for you. What's the number? Whitehall 1212. Good night. Put us through to Whitehall 1212 in London, please. Chief Inspector Portner calling. Yes, sir. Put me through to the CRO. Come on, all right. This is Chief Inspector Portner. Yes, sir. Here we go, Sergeant. You have anything on a man named... Wait a second. Let me see the card, Sergeant. Gollumson. Gollumson. G-O-L-A-N-S-O-N. P. Gollumson. I'll see you, sir. The I, sir. What did you say, sir? Oh, yes. He has a slide in his right eye. What, sir? A slide, a cast. Yes, sir. And a large scar on his right cheek. Can you check them at once, please? Yes. I'll wait. He's looking, Sergeant. I'm here. We have him, sir. Sergeant, we got him. Okay. Where is he? I want his whereabouts. At that record, sir. Good. Give me his address. That's nearly all, anyway. There he was in ones with calmly sewing male facts. He knew what he was doing when he pled guilty to breaking and entering two days after he murdered poor street. Rather, he thought he did. He had worked for street for a short time and had been stealing from him consistently using the name Remington, which he had seen in some of street's correspondence. We took him to Southampton. This time, Finucan identified him at once as the borrower of the hammer with which street was killed. Street, Gullinson said, quite calmly, had accused him of stealing. And he had hit the poor man several times with a borrowed tool. So he stayed in Southampton with the assizes, and when they found him guilty there, the Charles Wilson sent them to go back to prison. This time at Winchester, where they hanged him. Here today on Whitehall 1212, Horace Brayham as Inspector Portnath. Others in the order of their appearance were Harvey Hayes, Lester Fletcher, Maurice Gosfield, Pat O'Malley, Gerard Burke, Francois Grimard and Gordon Stern. This is Lionel Rico speaking. Whitehall 1212 is written and directed by Willis Cooper. When you're driving your car, remember that speed has its price. Death or injuries that can cripple you for life with endless bills to pay and endless years of suffering. Just because you may speed at times and get away with it, don't be lulled into a false sense of security. The price tag on speed violations last year was 15,000 killed and 500,000 injured. This year thousands of lives can be saved if you and a million of others motorists come to the sofa realization that speed is the biggest killer on the highways. Follow the campaign of the next president on NBC.