CHAPTER THREE
A
STRANGE WAY TO PAINT A PICTURE
“You have a client appointment at ten o’clock this morning,” Jif said as they opened the office door to begin their day.
“You ? Don’t you mean we ? Are you not coming to work this morning then Jif ? Is the Aston Martin due for its MOT ?”
“I am simply acknowledging your seniority as the detective and my juniority as the office boy.”
“Whatever ! Who is the appointment with and what’s it all about ?”
“What’s it all about Alfie ?” Jif sang out of tune. “The appointment is with a Mr Alfred Donaldson and his sister Daisy Donaldson, they want you to check the provenance of a painting.”
“Tell us about yourselves,” Richard began. “Give us a bit of general background information then tell us about the picture you are holding.”
“I am a nurse,” Daisy began, “well a student nurse actually.”
“Really, at which hospital do you work ?”
“Good Hope.”
“My mother is a doctor there,” Jif replied excitedly.
“What about you Alfred,” Richard moved this initial conversation on before Jif could take it away on a tangent.”
“I am in the Royal Air Force.”
“I used to be a pilot but with a commercial airline and not flying jump jets.”
“I’m not a pilot, ground crew, administrations actually. And call me Alfie please. Alfie the administrator. By the way the RAF has pensioned off its Harrier Jump Jets eleven years ago.”
“So what’s it all about Alfie ?” Jif smiled. “Can we jump to the point ?”
“This painting,” Alfie explained handing it to Richard so he could make a closer study.
“Our great-grandfather had it hanging on the wall in his summer house.”
“He died last month,” Daisy explained.
“I am sorry, we are sorry to hear that.”
Alfie continued their story. “Granddad said he bought it from a craft shop in Manchester in the nineteen sixties, you will see it has the date 1963 against the artist’s signature.”
It did Dale D Thompson LSL 1963.
“Granddad always said the artist was an inmate at Manchester’s prison and he painted it. We would like to ask you to find out if that is true and who Dale D Thompson was.”
“You have our rates,” Jif said. “Are they OK with you ?”
“Certainly, our family will pay them out of Granddad’s estate.”
The picture was clearly an amateur painting, it did not need an art expert to confirm that. Painted on a piece of hardboard measuring about ten inches by fifteen inches it was the scene of waves breaking over some rocks.
“Granddad put it in the frame, it was just a piece of hardboard when he got it,” Daisy said.
“But it is more than a piece of hardboard to the family. In Granddad’s memory,” Alfie explained, “we would like to know who Prisoner Dale D Thompson was and if he is still alive.”
“My colleague,” Richard said, “has a criminology degree.
Jif did not need a degree in criminology as he calculated aloud. “Your grandfather purchased the painting in 1963, the year Dale D Thompson composed it. That is fifty-nine years ago. Let’s guess the artist was aged between thirty and forty, that would make him between eighty-nine and ninety-nine years of age if he is still about.”
“The average life expectancy of a man,” Daisy quoted from her nurse training, “is seventy-six years.”
“But that is an average, children die and young adults die so revising the average. Granddad was ninety-seven when he left us.”
“I don’t think this is going to be a difficult case to solve,” Jif said. “We have the artist prisoner’s name and we have the date he was in prison, Strangeways we understand was the prison where he was serving his sentence.”
“What about the letters LSL after his name ?” Daisy asked. “They can not be an honour like an OBE and I have tried to find out myself if they are a degree or qualification of some kind. They are not.”
“Hopefully,” Richard hoped, “when we track down Mr Thompson, dead or alive, their significance will become clear.”
It was a short meeting but would this be a short assignment in the term of time needed so resolve the painting’s origin ? Hopefully it would. The brother and sister left the office of Richard Headington Investigators.
“Her Majesty’s Prison Strangeways,” Jif dipped into his degree thesis, “is more notoriously known as Her Majesty’s Prison Strangleways on account of the long list of criminals who were executed there.”
“Are you saying Dale D Thompson was one of them ?”
“No but it is easy enough to check.”
Jif opened his laptop and rattled the keys. “All execution records are on-line.”
“So did Albert Pierrepoint use a smart phone then ?”
Jif ignored Richard’s feeble attempt at a joke. A few clicks and he was able to confirm, “No, Dale D Thompson was not executed at Strangeways and no Dale D Thompson was executed anywhere within the prison service, ever. Neither in 1963 nor either side of that date.”
“Was anyone hung at Strangeways in 1963 ?” Richard asked, remotely wondering if such an event had influenced the painting.
Laptop keys rattled Jif was able to answer the question. “Not in 1963 but the previous year a James Smith was hung in Strangleways. He was just twenty-six years of age.”
James Smith born in 1936 and died on 28th November was the sixth-to-last criminal to be executed in a British prison. He was hanged for the murder of Sarah Isabella Cross in her sweetshop at the corner of Hulme Hall Lane and Iron Street in Manchester.
Smith entered the shop on Friday 4th May 1962 and battered 58 year old Sarah Cross to death in order to rob her of around £6 from the till. A total of five glass screw-top orangeade and cherryade bottles were used to club the victim, each of which shattered to pieces as a result. Smith left coins scattered on the shop floor as he made his escape through the rear exit. The victim's body was subsequently found lying behind the counter.
Forensic experts discovered Smith's fingerprints on a door frame which had been painted two days earlier and was still slightly tacky. Smith's fingerprints were already on file because of a previous conviction. As a result, Smith was quickly arrested at his home on Corfe Street, Beswick, by Detective Chief Superintendent Eric Cunningham and Detective Inspector Tommy Butcher. The broken glass bottles from the murder scene were sent to the North West Forensic Science Laboratory at Preston, where they were carefully reassembled using a tube of glue. Smith's house was searched and microscopic particles of glass were found on Smith's clothing and also down the sides of a settee. The tiny fragments of glass recovered from Smith's home fitted perfectly into the reassembled bottles from the murder scene.
The twenty-six year old father of two, who worked as a £15 a week rubber moulder at Failsworth went on trial for Cross's murder on 15th October 1962. The hearing lasted three days and it took the jury just twenty minutes to find him guilty. This verdict automatically resulted in him being sentenced to death on 17th October 1962 because under the terms of the Homicide Act 1957 killing in the course or furtherance of theft or robbery was a capital offence.
Smith was subsequently hanged on the gallows at Strangeways Prison on the morning of Wednesday 28th November 1962. A few hours later, on the same day that he was executed, Smith's body was buried in an unmarked grave in the Manchester prison cemetery. This practice was standard procedure because bodies of executed prisoners were regarded as property of the British Government, and therefore remained in the custody of the prison where they had been executed. Smith's body remained in the prison cemetery until many years later when in 1991 and again in 1993 the remains of all the executed prisoners were exhumed and cremated and the ashes interred in plots C2710 and C2711 at Blackley Cemetery, Manchester.
“Fancy a trip to Manchester ?”
“What for ?”
“Give my leg a bit of exercise pushing the DB11 peddles and at the same time soak up the atmosphere of Strangeways, we may even be able to find out if there are any arty crafty shops which may have sold the Dale D Thompson painting to our clients’ great grandfather.”
Her Majesty’s Prison Strangeways indeed had a dark cloud above its twin towered entrance. The sun was shining and the bright brickwork reflected the day but any reflection was clouded in shadow. How had that twenty-six year old James Smith felt when he passed though the gate on return from the court whence he had received his sentence of death ? Father of two, how had his children managed to grow up beneath that black cloud ever present above Manchester’s infamous prison ?
Officially Strangeways had been renamed HMP Manchester but its real name of Her Majesty’s Prison Strangleways never left it. Opened on 25th June 1868, Victoria has been its original Her Majesty. Five monarchs later, if you count King Edward VIII, its existence shamed the Mancunian society of Queen Elizabeth II.
But what of Dale D Thompson ? How had that cloud influenced his painting ? How could he have used bright colours in paint while imprisoned within such a dark accommodation ?
Jif had rattled his laptop keys and had a list of fifteen art shops within the Greater Manchester area. The Aston Martin’s infamous blue badge would allow parking close to all fifteen as the detective duo sought to find if there was even the slightest clue which could help their clients.
Shop one drew a blank. “We have only open for three years,” the owner said. “I wasn’t even born in 1963,”
In gallery number two the owner had been alive but still a pre-school infant. “My father started this little enterprise and I do know he put on display paintings from prisoners in Strangeways.”
“I didn’t realise prisons operated educational activities back in those days,” Jif said. “I thought it was all about sewing mail bags, stale bread, cold porridge and slopping out.”
“My young friend you are in Manchester.”
That was true the DB11’s sat nav had guided them there.
Studying the painting the gallery owner was feeling the emotion of excitement may soon be entering his presence. “Manchester,” in artistic form world famous.”
“I thought Manchester had its roots in the wool trade.”
“He painted Salford's smokey tops, On cardboard boxes from the shops, And parts of ancoats where I used to play, I'm sure he once walked down our street 'Cause he painted kids who had nowt on their feet The clothes we wore had all see better days,” the gallery owner had a song in his heart and a tear in his eye as he spoke those words.
Jif did not know what on earth the aging shop owner was talking about, Richard thought he had heard them before, perhaps in a song.
“When the Manchester artist L S Lowry died in 1976 a pop music duo released a song in his honour, a song all about his painting.”
“That’s where I have heard them before,” Richard said. “Wasn’t the song called Matchstalk cats and dogs ?”
“Matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and dogs actually.”
“L S Lowry ?” Jif thought he had spotted something he and Richard had previously overlooked. “L S Lowry, that’s the LSL after the artist’s name Dale D Thompson. But look, those three letters are painted in the same colour as the artists name and form part of the signature but were they painted by the same artist ? They are different !”
“Let me see,” Richard said holding his hand out for the painting.
But it was in the hands of the art shop. He picked up a magnifying glass. “Indeed young man you are right. If Lowry did add his initials to the painting then he must have had something to do with its composition and that would make the work worth a lot of money.”
“How much ?”
Jif’s question was not answered.
“What was Thompson in prison for ?” Richard’s query was rhetorical. “Was he in prison for forgery ?”
Both detective’s observation enquiries were lifted to a higher level.
“You need to show this to a more expert eye than my own.”
“Who ?”
“Take it to the Lowry Institute, it’s not far from here.”
Having thanked the gallery man for his help Jif put the address for the Manchester Lowry Institute into the DB11’s sat nav. On arrival without an appointment the duo was politely received but with little interest in the Dale D Thompson painting. Jif pressed the significance of the apparent different brush strokes in the painting which was passed to the attention of a third member of staff. All of a sudden Richard and Jif were treated as visiting royalty.
“If this is genuine,” the Director of the Manchester Lowry Institute said, “and this is indeed a long lost masterpiece then you two are sitting on an absolute fortune.”
“It does not belong to us,” Richard explained, “it is the property of our clients.”
“All I can say is its worth must be that of three, no four, make that five cars similar to that one of yours out there in the carpark.”
“So what is it ?”
“Laurence Stephen Lowry was a totally unique person. Did you know he was offered honours five times by the monarch, turning down such every time. He said he was an ordinary man and ordinary men are not knights of the realm. Do you know the song by Brian and Michael ?”
“We have heard of it.”
“The words describe perfectly who L S Lowry was. Please tell me how did you get hold of this painting ?”
Richard explained then asked, “So did Lowry paint this picture or was it Dale D Thompson ?”
“They painted it together. For much of his life the death penalty in England was the ultimate punishment of the court, Lowry opposed killing in any form. When someone was executed in Strangeways Prison in 1962…”
“That was James Smith,” Jif interrupted.
“Yes, that’s right James Smith. I don’t know the circumstances of the execution but when this Smith person was hung Lowry went into Strangeways prison and held art classes for inmates.”
“So was Dale D Thompson one of the class members ?”
“He was, he was one of the prisoners who jointly painted pictures with Lowry. There were only three, two are in private collections and when authenticated it would appear this is the missing third.”
“That will be good news for our client,” Richard said.
“That will be something of an understatement. A work painted by none other than L S Lowry and Dale D Thompson.”
“Who was Dale D Thompson ?”
“You mean you have never heard of him ?”
“No.”
“Is he still alive ?”
“Is Dale D Thompson still alive ? What a question to ask ! Of course he is alive so is his wife. They live with his grandson in the Malvern Hills in Upton Upon Seven.”
That would be put into the satellite navigation system of Jif’s infamous motor car but before any appointment could be made to meet the celebrated Dale D Thompson Richard Headington Private Investigators needed to report back to their clients.
“My brother’s leave has ended, he is away on some assignment or other but please tell me what you have found out about Granddad’s picture, you both appear somewhat excited.”
Richard explained their time in Manchester and the uncovered provenance of the painting. “I think it would be best to have it stored in a bank deposit box but you must have it insured, do so as a matter of great urgency.”
“How much for ?”
“Three million pounds would be a fair sum,” Jif advised before going on to explain who Dale D Thompson was.
“He was born into crime, his father was in prison throughout his childhood. As a juvenile offender himself he spent time in Borstal then when he was twenty years old he staged an armed bank robbery which took him to Strangeways where he painted the picture. He was a prisoner when James Smith was executed, had it not been for his meeting the artist Lowry no doubt he would have spent the rest of his life in and out of prison.”
“What happened to him ?”
“He was released from Strangeways in May 1967,” Richard took up the conversation.
“1967,” Jif took the conversation back, “the summer of love. Hippies, San Francisco, make love not war, the Vietnam War. Dale D Thompson travelled to San Francisco on a false passport and spent three months as a hippie in Golden Gate Park.”
“When he came back he wrote of his time as a hippie, The Daily Mail took his writing and made it into a feature across five editions of the newspaper.”
“John Lennon,” Jif took back the conversation, “read the articles and met Thompson. The result was the Beatles Give Peace a Chance. The Daily Mail sent Thompson to Vietnam as their special reporter. On his return he became a full-time peace campaigner.”
“He stood for parliament,” Richard gave his colleague a rest from presenting their case findings, “as an independent peace and not war candidate. He did not get elected but it helped promote his cause. In his later life he befriended as a prison visitor young offenders, determined to save them from lives of crime as L S Lowry saved him.”
Daisy was overwhelmed with what the investigation duo had found out and wondered how she would be able to put all of the information into a letter to her brother. She nervously asked the question Richard and Jif were eager to answer. “Is he still alive, Dale D Thompson ?”
When Jif answered Daisy threw her arms around him and planted a kiss on his lips ! Totally unexpected, coming out of the blue Jif was astounded at how much he enjoyed the experience.
“Welcome,” Bob said. “Please come in my grandparents are really looking forward to seeing you. Granddad is really thrilled and when my grandfather is excited it is an experience not to be missed !”
None had tried to apply mathematical calculation to the age of their artist but no matter what any computation may have produced he looked younger than any so making such adding up irrelevant. Dale D Thompson still had a full head of hair, a full head of hair which any flower power hippie would have been proud of. Without the assistance of a walking stick or other aid he rose from his chair and reached out a hand of welcome.
After powerful handshakes all round Daisy reached out and gently took hold of Jif’s hand.
“This is my wife Mary and you have met my grandson Bob. Don’t you think his dress style is boring ? He wears a wig to work ! Look at my taste in clothes.” Dale pushed out his chest to proudly emphasise his tie dye shirt.”
“Please forgive my husband,” Mrs Thompson said. “The plan is when he reaches his one hundredth birthday he will stop being a teenager.”
Dale took his wife’s hand and began to sing the Marty Wilde song Teenager in Love.
“What’s your favourite piece of music ?” Dale asked his visitors.
“I am starting to appreciate Brian and Michael song about Lowry.”
“Yes, very good. I know Leonard would love it. What about you young man ?”
“Riding Along In My Automobile,” Jif replied.
“What kind of automobile would that be ? Are you sure wouldn’t be better off with Chitty Chitty Bang Bang ?”
Jif tried and failed to outwit his host so excluding Daisy from explaining her musical choice, instead he simply said, “What is your favourite song then Mr Thompson ?”
“Bridge Over Troubled Water,” was his reply. “By Simon and Garfunkel.”
“You will have to excuse my grandfather, he talks a lot.”
“That is actually good,” Daisy said, “after all we have come to listen to him.”
“So what do you do Mr Thompson Junior ? Bob ?”
“I am a lawyer, a criminal defence barrister.”
“That’s why he wears a wig to work “ Thompson of the Bailey. And what do you do Miss ?”
“Call me Daisy. I am a nurse.”
“She works in the same hospital as my mother,” Jif was quick to explain.
“Is she a nurse as well then ?”
“No, a doctor, a surgeon actually. Don’t ask about my father, I have non idea about him. Don’t know who he is or if he even exists.”
“Tell me about it !” Bob unexpectedly replied. “Been there, done that and have the tee shirt but it’s not quite the same as my grandfather’s.”
“There are two types of people in this life,” Dale said. “Those go give and those who take. In my life I have been both and I can tell you which is the better. You, Miss Daisy, strike me as someone who gives but if I may offer a piece of advice just for once take. Take this boy’s hand.” He pointed to Jif. “I rather think he may make a nice boyfriend for you.”
“Granddad !”
Jif blushed while Daisy smiled.
Case solved. The firm of Richard Headington had done a good job.
Daisy did indeed take Jif’s hand, both literally and metaphorically.
When Alfie was next on leave the five all went for a picnic to celebrate the success. Richard and Mary, Jif and Daisy together with Alfie tightly squashed into the DB11 and drove to the Malvern Hills. Bob drove a Range Rover which comfortably accommodated Dale and Mrs Dale who joined them for the party.
“I was right, absolutely right,” Dale said to Jif. “You do drive a Chitty Chitty Bang Bang car !”
“Did you know,” Jif smiled his reply, “that Ian Flemming of James Bond fame also wrote Chitty Chitty Bang Bang ? My books, of course, are of a slightly different style. I have tried my hand, or should that be pen, actually laptop at writing poetry. Here is my first effort:
Daisy, Daisy
give me you answer do.
I’m half crazy
all for the love of you.
It won’t be a stylish marriage
I can’t afford a carriage
but you’ll look sweet
upon the seat of an
Aston Martin DB11
made for two !
With four seats in Jif’s Aston Martin DB11 Richard said, “Perhaps we could make that a double carriage. What do you say Mary ?”
A successful case. A happy ending. And two proposals of marriage.
FOOTNOTE: In
the late 1980’s I visited the prison market at Folsom Jail in California where
I purchased a painting by a prisoner Dale D Thompson. I have wondered so many
times who he was and why he was in prison. The painting hangs on the wall of my
summer house in the garden. I have used it here to inspire my writing of this
chapter.
Visit my Amazon Bookshelf at www.maxrobinsonwriter.com
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