Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. Vol. 133, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 811 & 812, March/April 2009

“Every contact leaves a trace, and often said trace is microscopic. I’ll ask the advice of the female officers about the female garments, they might suggest a likely outlet.”

Yellich, being a native of York, knew the value of walking the medieval walls when in the city centre, quicker and more convenient than the twentieth-century pavements below. That day the walls were crowded with tourists, but it didn’t stop his enjoyment of the walk — the railway station, the ancient roofs, the newer buildings blending in sensitively, and the Minster there, solid, dependable, a truly magnificent building in his opinion. Without it, there just wouldn’t be a city. He stepped off the wall, as he had to at Lendal Bridge, walked up Museum Street and on into Drummon Place, and right at the Minster, where stood the half-timbered medieval building that was the premises of Phillips and Tapely’s, Gentlemen’s Outfitters since 1810. Yellich pulled open the door, a bell jangled, and he stepped into the cool, dark silence and, he found, somewhat sleepy atmosphere of the shop; with dull-coloured rather than light-coloured clothing on display, and wooden counters and drawers constructed with painstaking carpentry. A young man, sharply dressed, near snapped to attention as Yellich entered the shop. “Yes, sir, how can I help you?”

“Police.” Yellich showed his ID, and was amused by the crestfallen look on the assistant’s face as he realised he wasn’t going to sell anything, that this caller was not a customer. “I wonder if you can help me?”

“If I can, sir.”

“I have some photographs here...” Yellich took the recently produced black-and-white and colour prints from a brown envelope and placed them on the counter. “Of clothing, as you see...”

“Yes... We do sell clothing like this. I presume that’s what you’d like to know?” Said with a smile, and Yellich began to warm to the young man. “The jacket particularly, and the shoes... the label ‘Giovanni,’ an Italian manufacturer, very stylish, favoured by the younger gentlemen... We are the only outlet for ‘Giovanni’ in the north of England.”

“Good, progress.” Yellich handed the shop assistant a photograph of the male deceased, who appeared as though he was in a restful, trouble-free sleep. “Do you recognise this gentleman?”

“As a customer? No I don’t, but we don’t have many such young customers... Mr. Wednesday will help you if anyone can. Top of the stairs, turn left. Mr. Wednesday is the under-manager. I’d escort you, sir, but this is what we call the ‘door’ counter, always has to be staffed. I welcome and say ‘good day’ to customers as they enter and leave, as well as sell, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Just keep walking when you turn left, his office is the door just beyond ‘Evening Wear.’”

“Just after evening wear,” Yellich echoed.

“I’ll let him know you’re on the way up, sir.” The assistant reached below the counter and lifted a telephone.

James Wednesday, for that was the name on the door at his office, was a short and portly man, rather severely dressed, to Yellich’s taste, in his black suit. He had the appearance of an undertaker, and Yellich found him also to have the sombre, serious manner of an undertaker. His office window looked out onto Minster Yard and the Minster itself. He invited Yellich to sit in the upholstered leather chair which stood in front of his desk. The chair creaked as Yellich sat.

“This photograph, Mr. Wednesday.” Yellich handed the photograph of the deceased male to the under-manager. “Do you recognise him? One of your customers, perhaps?”

“Yes, I do. It’s Dominic Westwood. Yes, that’s Mr. Westwood the younger all right. He has an account with us. Pays it sometimes, as well, unlike most of our customers, who seem to think that a man really shouldn’t pay his tailor.”

“How do you stay in business?” Yellich couldn’t resist the question.

“Often by refusing credit when debt has reached a certain level, by charging interest on overdue accounts, and occasionally our lawyers have to make a claim on the estate of a customer if they have departed this life with outstanding debt to the shop. We stay afloat, Mr. Yellich, and have done so for two hundred years. So, the police, a photograph of one of our customers who appears to be sleeping. Has this particular customer departed his life, perchance?”

“Perchance he has.”