Case 342: Julia Wallace

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At around 7pm on Monday, January 19, 1931, the telephone rang at Coddles City Cafe on North John Street in the English port city of Liverpool. Waitress Gladys Harley picked up. On the line was an unfamiliar, elderly sounding man with a deep voice who asked quickly, Is that the Central Chess Club? Liverpool's Central Chess Club was meeting at the cafe that evening, as it did every Monday and Thursday throughout autumn, winter and early spring. The club consisted of a small group of mostly amateur players whose informal and friendly matches were often played among the tables on the bustling main restaurant floor. The man on the telephone asked, Is William Wallace there? Gladys recognised many of the chess club's members by sight, but she didn't know most of their names. Unsure whether William was among the crowd that evening, she approached the club's captain Samuel Beattie and asked, Is William Wallace here? Samuel had known William through the club for eight years. The 52 year old initially came across as shy and reserved, but over time developed a reputation as a pleasant, likeable gentleman. He wasn't a regular attendee at the club, appearing as little as once a fortnight, telling others it was because he disliked leaving his wife alone at night. In fact, William hadn't been seen at the club since before Christmas, but he was expected to appear that evening for a scheduled match in the second class championship. The highly anticipated tournament had been planned two months in advance, with a first prize of ten chillings and a second prize of five. But when Samuel Beattie glanced around the cafe, he didn't see William there. This wasn't unusual, as most club members didn't arrive until between 7.3 and 8
Samuel went to the telephone and took the call on William's behalf. He didn't recognise the caller's strong, slightly gruff voice. When Samuel informed him that William hadn't arrived, the man asked, Can you give me his address? I'm afraid I can't, Samuel replied. The man then asked, But will he be there? I can't say, Samuel answered. He may or may not. If he is coming, he will be here shortly. I suggest you ring up later.
The caller said he was too busy to ring back and stressed the matter's importance, explaining that it was his daughter's 21st birthday and that he wished to arrange something for her that fell within William's nature of business. I want to see him particularly, the man insisted, before asking Samuel to pass on a message. With pen in hand, Samuel noted that the man wanted to meet William at 7.3 the following evening at his residence, 25 Menlove Gardens East, in the southeast suburb of Mosley Hill. Samuel repeated the details, which the caller confirmed. He also gave his name, R. M. Qualtrough.
Not long after the call, Samuel Beattie noticed a tall, thin, bespectacled man with a gray mustache seated near the cafe entrance absorbed in a chess match. It was William Wallace. He had arrived discreetly moments earlier, removed his hat and coat, and quietly settled in to play his tournament game. Samuel relayed the message from R. M. Qualtrough to William, who responded.
He asked whether the man was a member of the chess club, which Samuel denied. I don't know the chap, William said, adding that he'd never heard of Menlove Gardens East either. When he suggested that the address might have been Menlove Avenue, also in Mosley Hill, Samuel assured him it was not. William nevertheless recorded Qualtrough's name and the Menlove Gardens address in his pocket diary, scrolling east in big block letters. He then turned his attention back to his chess game, which concluded at 10pm in William's victory. Elated, he animatedly recounted the match as he left the cafe with several other club members. Yet, the peculiar request from R. M. Qualtrough lingered on his mind. He brought up the unfamiliar Menlove Gardens address to a fellow chess club member during the evening and to the others as they journeyed home. No one else had heard of it either, but they also suspected it might be somewhere off the more well-known Menlove Avenue and offered suggestions on how William could get there. William jokingly remarked that he belonged to Liverpool and was therefore confident he could find his way once he reached the general area. After all, he knew Menlove Avenue quite well. The road ran alongside a park he sometimes visited with his wife to see the roses. As for Qualtrough, William had little to say beyond the fact it was a peculiar name.