‘What did I say?’ asked a voice.
Shocked to realise they’d been overheard, the two women turned to see Paul Marmion standing in the open doorway. He was grinning with satisfaction.
‘You’ve come to your senses at last, Alice,’ he said. ‘Get rid of him.’
During the time they’d been away, Detective Constable Gibbs had handled any information that came in. People often took days before their memories were jogged or before they felt they might have something significant to report. Keedy sifted through their statements.
‘This is the most promising,’ said Keedy, holding up a sheet of paper. ‘A man named Wainwright claims that he saw someone, who answers the description of Simon Wilder, walking along Old Church Road around midnight.’
‘How well could he see in the dark?’
‘Wainwright had been walking his dog for some time so he’d have adjusted to the dark. Also, he works as an engine driver. You need good eyesight to drive a train.’
‘Does he specify an exact place in the road?’
‘Yes,’ said Keedy, ‘and it’s not far from where the body was found.’
‘We need to talk to Wainwright,’ decided Marmion, lifting another report from the table. ‘It looks as if I might need to see him myself, Joe. You appear to be needed elsewhere.’
‘Do I?’
‘Yes, there’s a request from Odele Thompson for you to call at her flat as a matter of urgency. There’s something she wants to tell you.’
Keedy pulled a face. ‘I’ve heard it before!’
‘She doesn’t mind how late it is when you get there.’
‘Then she’s out of luck. Why don’t you go and see Miss Thompson while I have a word with Mr Wainwright?’
‘That sounds like the answer.’
‘It will be a false alarm, I warn you. She’ll have nothing new to tell us.’
‘You never know.’
They spent another hour assessing all the information gathered and linking it to existing intelligence. There’d been a number of putative sightings of Wilder – or someone very much like him – and they’d all happened in the same area. It was encouraging. They were slowly narrowing down the possibilities of where he’d actually been on the night when he was killed.
By late evening, when they were both starting to yawn, they split up to make separate inquiries, meeting up afterwards to compare stories on the drive back to Scotland Yard. First to recount his interview, Keedy turned out to have had the more productive visit.
‘Wainwright was insistent that it had been the murder victim,’ he said. ‘He remembered how the man glided along the pavement, almost as if he was dancing.’
‘Then it was Wilder!’
‘I was right about his eyesight. It was very keen because it needs to be.’
Marmion sighed. ‘Ah, he was one of those, was he?’
‘There’s no doubt about it. Wainwright takes his dog for a walk on certain nights and usually goes to a park – so do courting couples, of course. That’s what interests him. He’s a voyeur.’
‘I despise people like that, Joe. The trouble is that they’re difficult to catch peering through the bushes. At least he’s done something useful this time.’
‘He recalled something he’d forgotten to put in his statement,’ said Keedy. ‘He noticed that the man was carrying something that looked like a camera.’
‘It was him,’ said Marmion, decisively. ‘It had to be Wilder.’
‘How did you get on with Odele – Miss Thompson, that is?’
‘To be honest, I didn’t. She was livid that I turned up and not you. She’d put on a silk robe for your benefit. It was very eye-catching. She told me that Allan Redmond had offered her all kinds of blandishments to leave Wilder and team up with her, but that was not really news. When I told her you’d arrested him, she gave a whoop of joy.’
‘What did she do when she heard I’d had to release him?’
‘She was full of sympathy for you, Joe.’
Anxious to get off the subject of Odele Thomson, the sergeant went through the list of suspects once again and they discussed each one of them. They were so immersed in their debate that they didn’t realise they were back at Scotland Yard until they felt the car slowing down. Keedy glanced out of the window with dread.
‘I know that Chat is expecting the both of us,’ said Marmion, ‘but I suggest that you slope off and leave me to handle him.’
‘I ought to face the music.’
‘Let me do that on your behalf. You’re off duty, Sergeant – disappear!’
Keedy didn’t need to hear the order repeated. After thanking Marmion, he got out of the car and walked away from the building. The inspector, meanwhile, made his way inside and headed for the superintendent’s office. He found the door wide open. Leaning against the edge of his desk, Chatfield was waiting impatiently.
‘Where is Keedy?’ he asked.
‘I sent him home, sir. He was not well.’
‘Did he tell you what happened between us?’
‘He’s very sorry and sends his apologies.’
‘I’d have more respect for him if he tendered them in person,’ said Chatfield with a growl of displeasure. ‘I will not stand for insubordination.’
‘Sergeant Keedy was disappointed, sir.’
The other man stood upright. ‘How does he think I feel?’
‘He knows that he shouldn’t have walked out like that and he expects that he will be disciplined. All I ask is that you postpone it until we crack this case.’
‘And are you any nearer to doing that?’
‘We think so, sir. We can now put Wilder very close to the murder scene.’
As Marmion delivered his report, the superintendent’s ire slowly turned to interest and then to a guarded optimism. Eventually, he forgot about Keedy’s misconduct altogether.
‘So you’re concentrating your inquiries on three people.’
‘That’s correct, sir – Mrs Wilder, Noonan and Atterbury.’
‘The sergeant is doubtless still claiming that Redmond is the killer.’
‘He’s coming round to my point of view, sir,’ said Marmion. ‘I just wondered if you could see your way to do the same.’
‘I’m not sure that I follow.’
‘Let me put a man on Tom Atterbury.’
‘I’m sorry, Sergeant, I can’t allow you to do that.’
‘Then we’re missing a vital opportunity.’
‘The reason I can’t let you put a man on Atterbury,’ said Chatfield, airily, ‘is that I’ve already done so. I know a good idea when I hear it, Inspector.’
He’d shifted his position throughout the evening in case he was spotted, crossing the road and venturing ever nearer to the house he was watching. When the front door opened, two men came into view and exchanged a handshake. He was close enough to hear Tom Atterbury speaking to his visitor.
‘Goodbye, Pattinson,’ he said, ‘and thank you again.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
After a sleepless night, Alice Marmion could only pick at her breakfast and she heard very little of the banter of the other women at the table. She felt completely unready for a day’s work when she walked down the street to the bus stop. People looked at her differently since she’d become a policewoman. She’d always collected admiring glances in the past and, on one occasion, had aroused a man’s interest so much that he stalked her and tried to molest her. Luckily, Keedy had come to her rescue, one of many examples when she was profoundly grateful to him. Men now tended to look at her with a mingled caution and disapproval, shy of approaching her and wondering why she should try to do a job for which they considered her to be ill fitted. For the most part, Alice’s uniform made women curious and they were much more likely to speak to her.
As she stood in the queue, she simply wanted to be left alone but the old woman next to her tried to engage her in polite conversation. When the bus came, it was so full that only three people were allowed on. Neither Alice nor the
old woman was among them. It was at least twenty minutes before another bus was due and Alice realised that she was behind time. The old lady, meanwhile, complained bitterly and said that her age entitled her to be let on the bus first. She kept up the tirade until another vehicle eventually came.
Squashed into a seat at the front, Alice was at last left alone to look back on what had been an uncomfortable visit home. Having gone in search of sympathy, she’d ended up arguing with her brother and telling him that he ought to keep his opinions to himself. What irked her was that Paul seemed to be enjoying her plight. The more he derided Keedy, the more she came to his defence and reminded herself just how much she missed him. Her mother had been thrust into the position of a referee who’d lost her whistle. All three of them had finished up yelling at the top of their voices.
Alice was tortured by regret. She was sorry that she’d quarrelled with Paul, sorry that she’d upset her mother in doing so and sorry, most of all, that she had no idea where she stood with Keedy. Would he apologise or would he simply decide that they had no future together? As long as he was with her, he was forced to reject any overtures from other women. Odele was a case in point. What would he have done if he hadn’t been engaged to Alice? Did he feel trapped? One thing was certain. Keedy was such a handsome man that there’d be other Odeles to tempt him in the future. How could Alice possibly compete with them?
When she finally arrived for work, she was low, depressed and extremely weary. Alice was not robust enough to withstand a broadside from Inspector Gale.
‘What time do you call this?’ she demanded.
Alice yawned involuntarily. ‘I’m sorry. The bus was late.’
‘You were late, not the bus. If you rely on public transport, you should always allow for contingencies. Catch an earlier bus than the one you intended. Think ahead, girl and – for heaven’s sake – stop yawning at me!’
Alice put a hand over her mouth. ‘I couldn’t help myself.’
‘Sergeant Keedy is behind this, isn’t he?’
‘No, no, he isn’t.’
‘He kept you out late last night and you had virtually no sleep.’
‘That’s not what happened at all, Inspector.’
‘I’m not blind,’ snapped the other woman. ‘Look at you. You’re half-dead. What kind of an advertisement is that for the Women’s Police Force? When you put that uniform on, you have to be at your very best.’
‘Yes, I know that.’
‘Then why do you turn up looking as if you’re about to keel over?’
Alice drew herself up to her full height and tried to shake off her fatigue. Being dressed down by the inspector was the final indignity. Her pride was wounded. The one consolation was that Iris Goodliffe was not there to witness her disgrace. The inspector continued to berate her until she ran out of unpleasant adjectives.
‘You can give Sergeant Keedy a message from me,’ said the older woman. ‘You’re to be allowed plenty of time to rest between shifts. He ought to know that.’
‘This is nothing to do with him, Inspector.’
‘That’s an arrant lie.’
‘I’m late because the bus I usually catch was full.’
The inspector rolled her eyes. ‘How many times have I heard that excuse?’
‘It’s the truth,’ protested Alice.
‘Shut up and listen to me.’ The inspector glowered at her. ‘I don’t like excuses, I don’t like unpunctuality and I won’t tolerate lies. You’re not fit to be seen in public like that. You’ve let me down and you’ve let yourself down. That’s the message you must give to Sergeant Keedy. If he keeps you out till all hours and sends you to work looking like this, I’ll have no alternative but to dismiss you on the spot.’
Alice felt as if the whole world was suddenly against her.
The presence of the driver made it impossible for them to have a private conversation. Joe Keedy therefore had to hold back the question he was dying to ask until they reached Chingford and went into the room that had become their temporary base.
Alone with Marmion at last, he was able to speak freely.
‘Something happened, didn’t it?’
‘Yes, Joe, it did.’
‘Well?’
‘I managed to get a stay of execution for you. Chat will have to discipline you but at least he’s agreed to wait until our work is done here.’
‘I’m not worried about Chat,’ said Keedy, irritably. ‘It’s Alice I was talking about. Something’s happened. I can tell from your manner.’
‘It’s true,’ admitted Marmion. ‘Alice came home yesterday evening to see her mother and … Paul interrupted them.’
‘There’s more to it than that, surely, and I want to know what it is.’
Marmion was in a cleft stick. While wanting to appease Keedy, he drew back from revealing the full details of a family squabble. He’d returned home the previous night to hear about the way his children had ended up hurling insults at each other. Alice had eventually gone back to her flat, leaving her mother to have a separate argument with Paul. Once again, Marmion had rued the fact that he was not there to impose some kind of control, supporting Ellen, speaking sharply to his son and comforting his distraught daughter. The domestic upheaval was still at the forefront of his mind when he picked up Keedy in the police car. As a consequence, the sergeant had sensed that something untoward had occurred.
‘Don’t keep me in suspense,’ said Keedy. ‘Tell me what happened.’
‘Paul made some remarks about you and Alice took offence.’
‘What sort of remarks?’
‘That’s irrelevant. The fact is that they had a row and Alice defended you to the hilt. That really is all I’m prepared to say, Joe.’
He was rescued from the need to continue the conversation because the telephone rang. Marmion picked up the receiver. From the pained expression on his face, Keedy could see that he was talking – listening, rather – to Claude Chatfield. When he put the instrument down, the inspector was pleased.
‘Chat’s idea has borne fruit,’ he explained.
‘Which idea is that?’
‘He put a tail on Tom Atterbury.’
‘That was your idea,’ said Keedy, indignantly.
‘I’m happy to let him think that it’s his, Joe. For once, he did actually take my advice and it’s given us a lead.’
‘What happened?’
‘One of our lads was deployed to watch Atterbury’s house. He came home in a taxi with another man and they both went into the house. When the visitor later left, Atterbury was heard to say his name.’
‘Was it Pattinson, by any chance?’
‘It was, indeed.’
‘I knew that those two were connected somehow.’
‘I must remember to thank the detective on duty outside. All that he had to go on was Atterbury’s address and our description of him. There was a warm handshake as Pattinson left. They were obviously close friends. In the man’s report, said Chat, they were described as “thick as thieves” but that’s probably because he couldn’t spell “conspiratorial” properly.’
‘I’m not sure that I can.’
‘It’s time to call on Atterbury again, I think.’
‘You didn’t finish telling me about Alice.’
‘Yes, I did,’ said Marmion, resolutely. ‘We’re at work now. Our private lives don’t exist until we come off duty. Right,’ he went on, ‘do you want to renew your acquaintance with Tom Atterbury or would you rather pay a courtesy visit to Odele Thompson?’ Keedy gave a mirthless laugh. ‘That settles that, then.’
Audrey Pattinson never had a chance of seeing the newspaper until her husband had finished reading it. As they sat at the breakfast table, he turned a page and ran his eye down it. Audrey ignored him. She had long grown accustomed to meals eaten in silence. For once, however, her husband had something to say to her.
‘There are details of the funeral in here,’ he said. ‘Wilder’s body must have been released to th
e family.’
‘When is it, Martin?’
‘You can see for yourself when I’ve finished with the paper.’
He carried on reading and left her fuming with an impatience she dared not show. Audrey still nursed hopes that she’d be able to play the organ at the funeral but there’d been no approach from Catherine Wilder. She realised that she had to put herself forward if she had any chance of being given a task that she would cherish. It was another twenty minutes before Pattinson folded the newspaper and set it down on the table. As he rose to go, she had her request ready.
‘Martin …’
‘What do you want?’
‘I’m going to call on Mrs Wilder this morning. Since my work at the dance studio has finished for good, I might as well return the key to her.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘she’ll want it back and you don’t need it. The key is in my room. I’ll bring it down.’
‘Thank you, Martin.’
‘But since you won’t be playing dance music any more, you might as well get rid of all that music. I hate listening to it. You can play Chopin instead.’ He wagged a finger. ‘No German composers, though – you know why. I’m not having my wife paying homage to the enemy.’
When he left the room, Audrey pounced on the newspaper immediately and flipped through the pages as she searched for the obituary column.
Arriving at the house, they rang the bell and waited side by side. Tom Atterbury soon opened the door. Displeased to see them, he realised that they would not have come together unless they had something important to tell him. Ungraciously, he invited them in. Marmion and Keedy left their hats on the stand and followed him into the living room.
‘Do you have news?’ asked Atterbury. ‘Have you caught him yet?’
‘No, sir,’ replied Marmion, ‘but we feel that we’re closing in on the killer.’
‘Who is he?’
‘It’s too early to put a name on him.’
‘Or on them,’ added Keedy. ‘Two or three people may be involved.’
‘As long as you don’t think I’m one of them,’ said Atterbury, scowling. ‘I was insulted that you should even consider me as a suspect.’
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