Deceived: THE BRAND NEW NOVEL. No one knows crime like Kray.

by Roberta Kray

  While Jimmy waited, he replayed the moment Alf Tombs had approached him in the Fox, his chest puffing up at the memory of it. Right in front of his mates, the gang boss had taken him to one side and said casually, ‘Do us a favour, son, and let me know if you find out where that Judith’s staying.’

  Jimmy had played it cool and not asked any questions. ‘Sure, Mr Tombs, I’ll do that.’

  He still didn’t know exactly why Alf wanted to know, but guessed it had something to do with Ivor Doyle. Anyway, he was determined to find the woman before anyone else did. It would make him look good and show that he could get results.

  Twenty minutes passed before Elsa finally emerged from the caff. He prayed she was going straight home and not shopping or anything – and he hoped that home wasn’t too far away. What would he do if she got on a bus? He could end up halfway across London. In the event, she crossed the road from exactly the same spot he had and started heading towards the green. For a second he thought she’d spotted him and quickly bent down, pretending to tie his shoelaces.

  She passed close enough for him to see her slim ankles as she went by, but she didn’t stop or say anything. He didn’t think she’d clocked him. He waited a short while before raising his head again. She was now almost halfway across the green and going in the direction of Barley Road. He stood up and started to follow, keeping a safe distance in case she suddenly turned around.

  Jimmy liked the thrill of tailing her. It gave him a feeling of power, of control. It changed the balance of things. She had no idea, he thought, that he had her in his sights. He walked at a leisurely pace as though he was taking an afternoon stroll, careful not to stare but always keeping her in view. People often knew when they were being watched, some weird sixth sense that prickled the back of their necks. He knew this because it wasn’t the first time he’d followed a woman.

  When Elsa reached the end of the green, she turned right along Barley Road and went to the house on the corner, where she disappeared down a flight of steps to the basement flat. Jimmy proceeded with caution in case she came back up again and bumped straight into him. After a few minutes, when he reckoned it was safe, he sauntered over to the house and casually glanced down the steps. She’d gone inside. The tiny patch of courtyard was empty apart from a battered bin and a pot of red geraniums.

  Suddenly Jimmy got cold feet about what he intended to do. What if she called the law and accused him of threatening her? He already had a caution after that misunderstanding with the blonde tart last year. And he couldn’t explain about Judith Jonson to the cops, not without involving Alf Tombs, and that was out of the question. No, he had to use his brains for once, hold fire and think it through.

  While he pondered on the possible consequences, his gaze took in the lock on the door. A Yale, easy to manipulate. On a good day he could get inside in thirty seconds flat. But that didn’t help him when it came to tracking down the Jonson girl. Reluctantly, he turned away and set off back the way he’d come. Perhaps it would be smarter to keep an eye on the caff; odds were that she’d turn up there at some point. But he couldn’t resist a glance over his shoulder. He wasn’t finished with Elsa, but she could wait. Now that he knew where she lived, he could visit whenever he wanted.

  29

  Soho on a Saturday night was a revelation to Judith – the crowds, the pimps and prostitutes, the rhythmic sound of jazz floating out of windows. The sounds and smells were alien to her, new. It seemed to be a place without boundaries, beyond the reach of law and order, and she found herself both repulsed and fascinated by it.

  ‘I hope you didn’t mind meeting me here,’ Saul said. ‘There was someone I had to see and I wasn’t sure how long it would take.’

  Judith, who was simply relieved that he’d got here on time – standing around on street corners probably wasn’t advisable in Soho – quickly shook her head. ‘Of course not. It was good of you to agree, especially at such short notice.’

  ‘Let’s go for a drink. There’s a place I know, not too far away. You might find it interesting.’

  ‘More interesting than here?’

  Saul grinned. ‘In a different kind of way.’

  They set off, weaving through the crowds. The day had been hot and the evening retained the sun’s warmth. A sense of expectation hung in the air, along with the smells of tobacco, perfume and another sweet scent that might have been marijuana. Men lurking in doorways called to each other. Girls with red mouths and wriggling hips made short forays up and down the street, searching for potential customers.

  Judith tried not to stare, not to act like a small-town girl gazing straight into the eyes of sin. Nonchalance was what was called for, although she wasn’t quite sure if she was pulling it off. Saul Hannah appeared indifferent to the sights around him, neither shocked nor curious. He possessed a quiet confidence she found reassuring.

  ‘So, you met with Doyle again,’ he said.

  ‘This morning. That’s why I wanted to see you. He told me Nell was ill, but it’s hard to know what to believe. Do you know if it’s true?’

  ‘She’s had problems, that’s for sure. I’ve asked around. Rumour has it she spent time at Silver’s a few years back.’

  Judith looked at him blankly. ‘Silver’s?’

  ‘Sorry. Silverstone Hospital, near Kellston station. It’s actually an asylum, a dismal, godforsaken place, the sort of institution that gives Bedlam a bad name.’

  ‘He wasn’t lying, then.’

  ‘You sound disappointed.’

  ‘No, just surprised. He’s lied about so much, I half expected this to be a tall story too.’

  They crossed over Oxford Street, turned right and went up Rathbone Place. Judith was still thinking about Nell McAllister, wondering what had happened to make the girl’s life disintegrate in such a fashion. Maybe the answer was simple: Ivor Doyle had happened.

  ‘I suppose that makes things tricky,’ Saul said.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to do anything to … I don’t know … tip her over the edge again.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s what he’s counting on.’

  Judith shot him a glance. ‘Perhaps it is.’

  ‘It’s a difficult situation.’

  They were quiet for a while, and then Judith asked, ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘The Montevideo club. It shouldn’t be too busy at this time of night. It’ll be an experience.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Because it’s owned by Alf Tombs.’

  Judith stopped dead and stared at him. ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Doyle won’t be there. He doesn’t frequent any of Alf’s establishments. I just thought you might like to put a face to the name.’

  ‘I’m not sure I do,’ she said.

  ‘It’s up to you. We don’t have to. But he doesn’t know who you are, does he? He won’t recognise you if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  Judith considered it. Perhaps she was a little curious. She’d never seen a gang boss before, and wondered what the man Ivor Doyle worked for – or with – was actually like. ‘All right, just for a quick drink. Is it far away?’

  Saul pointed up the road. ‘Charlotte Street.’

  ‘Charlotte Street,’ she repeated, frowning. Immediately she thought of her friend, but it reminded her of something else too. ‘Why does that sound familiar?’

  ‘There was a murder there a couple of years ago: a bloke on a motorbike who tried to stop some armed robbers. Antiquis was his name. It was all over the papers. He was shot in the head and died in hospital.’

  ‘I remember that.’ Judith could also remember the shock she’d felt, that someone trying to do the right thing had paid such a high price. ‘He had a wife and children, didn’t he?’

  ‘That’s right. Six kids left without a dad. And for what? The whole robbery was bodged; they got away with nothing. There was no need to shoot him, but that’s what it’s like now. With these people, life doesn’t have any value.’

  ‘Ho
w do you stand it, doing your job? You must see awful things.’

  ‘It’s just a different kind of war. You get on with it. Most times it’s not enough, but you do what you can.’

  Judith thought she had misjudged Saul Hannah, mistaking reticence for something more sinister. She suspected he was probably a good person at heart, although she still wasn’t sure if she actually liked him. Still, liking or not liking was irrelevant. She wanted more information on Nell, on Ivor Doyle, and he was the one who could provide it.

  The Montevideo was tucked away on the corner where Charlotte Street met Goodge Street. It was an unprepossessing building, the stone walls pitted by bomb damage and stained grey by fumes. The only indication that it was a club was a gold-coloured oblong sign with black lettering placed three quarters of the way up the door.

  ‘It’s nicer inside,’ he said.

  As it happened, he was right. With its large seating area, plush blue velvet chairs and discreet lighting, the room was pleasant and comfortable. They chose a small table off to the side and sat down. The place wasn’t busy yet, but there were enough customers for it not to feel empty. Soft jazz came out of speakers, and there was a steady buzz of conversation.

  Looking around at the other women, Judith was glad she’d chosen something decent to wear. This morning, straight after seeing Ivor Doyle, she’d gone to a West End store and bought an elegant pale green linen dress with money from the savings account. She had done it to spite him as much as anything else, to fritter away some of the cash he’d accumulated. Why should she give it back to him? It was all he’d left behind after dumping her.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ Saul asked. ‘They do some decent cocktails here.’

  Judith didn’t have an extensive knowledge of cocktails, but she didn’t want to appear totally unsophisticated. ‘That would be nice,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you choose?’

  Saul got the attention of one of the girls who was serving and ordered a couple of sidecars. After she’d gone, he said, ‘I didn’t expect to see you back so soon. How long are you staying for?’

  ‘For however long it takes. Although if you ask me what “it” is, I’m not sure I even know. I thought it was telling Nell what Ivor Doyle was really doing while he was away from London, but somehow that doesn’t seem quite so appealing now. If I expose him, then I’ll hurt her too.’

  ‘That’s the trouble with having a conscience. He probably didn’t think twice about what he did.’

  ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘I doubt he did.’

  The drinks arrived and Saul raised his glass. ‘Here’s to … what do you think?’

  Judith considered it. ‘To better ideas?’

  ‘Why not?’ he said, clinking his glass against hers. ‘Here’s to better ideas all round.’

  She took a sip of the sidecar. It was smooth and warming and delicious. She tasted brandy and felt it slide down her throat like liquid velvet. ‘Mm, that’s good.’

  ‘Yes, you can’t fault the cocktails. So, where are you staying at the moment?’

  ‘Elsa’s,’ she said.

  He seemed surprised. ‘Really?’

  ‘Just until I get somewhere sorted. She’s been very kind to me. It makes such a difference having someone on your side.’

  Saul’s lips shifted into a wry smile. ‘Yes, Elsa always likes to be there for people.’

  Judith thought she heard a hint of irony in the words, although she could have been mistaken. She looked at him, but his face gave nothing away. ‘I suppose you’ll miss her when she’s gone.’

  ‘Gone where?’

  ‘Oh, hasn’t she mentioned it?’ This made Judith feel awkward. She’d presumed, with the two of them being friends, that Elsa would have shared her plans with him. ‘Well, I don’t think anything is absolutely decided. She just said that she might be going abroad.’

  Saul gave a short laugh. ‘Elsa’s always talking about getting out of London. I’d take it with a pinch of salt. Where would she get the money to clear off like that?’

  Judith shrugged and quickly changed the subject. ‘Is Alfred Tombs here?’ she asked, looking round for any likely candidates.

  ‘Not yet. He’ll turn up, though. He always does on a Saturday night.’

  Judith sipped some more of her cocktail. ‘Do you know anything else about Nell?’

  ‘I heard she used to sing here, but that was before my time. Quite a looker, by all accounts, at least until Lennie Hull got his hands on her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There was trouble between him and Doyle – thieves falling out, you know how it is. Doyle got away, cleared off, and so Lennie took his revenge on Nell instead. Cut up her face pretty badly, broke one of her legs and generally made a mess of her. He was a vicious sod, that Lennie Hull.’

  Judith winced at the thought of it. ‘Did she go to the police?’

  ‘No. I suspect she couldn’t have, not without implicating Doyle in whatever crime the two men fell out over in the first place.’

  ‘Why would she protect him when he’d just gone off and left her?’

  ‘You’d have to ask her that.’

  Judith reckoned she already knew the answer. Doyle was good at making women trust him, fall in love with him, believe in him. Nell must have forgiven the lying bastard, but she wasn’t going to. Her expression hardened as she thought of everything he’d done to her. ‘I suppose you think I’m a fool for marrying him in the first place.’

  ‘Of course not. You weren’t to know what he was really like, and the war wasn’t a time for thinking about the future.’ He played with the stem of his glass, twisting it in his fingers. ‘You should be careful, though.’

  ‘Careful?’

  ‘Ivor Doyle isn’t going to appreciate you being in London.’

  ‘I don’t care what he appreciates. In fact, I’m glad if it bothers him. He’s going to wonder what I’m going to do next, and if that gives him a few sleepless nights, then it’s worth it. Does that sound vengeful? I suppose it does. I suppose it is. But at the moment, until I figure out what to do next, it’s better than nothing.’

  ‘When I said careful, I meant …’ He hesitated, as if in two minds whether to go on. ‘Look, I don’t know anything for sure, but Ivor Doyle reappeared on the scene shortly after Lennie Hull’s murder. Now that could have just been coincidence, or that news travels fast and he heard it was safe to come back, or …’

  He left the final ‘or’ hanging in the air for Judith to complete herself. It landed in her mind with a shuddering thump. ‘You don’t think …? What, that he might have done it? No, he couldn’t. I mean, I know he’s done some awful things, but he’s not a murderer.’

  ‘Are you certain of that?’

  Judith, of course, wasn’t certain of it at all. Everything she thought she’d known about her husband had recently disintegrated, until all that was left was a ragged tissue of lies. But was he capable of murder? Once she could have put her hand on her heart and said no, but things had changed. ‘There must have been others who’d have been more than happy to see the back of Hull.’

  ‘You’re right, but let’s just say if I had a shortlist I’d put Doyle on it. He had the motive – what Lennie did to Nell – and he could well have had the opportunity. That doesn’t make him guilty, only a possible suspect. It’s why you need to be careful; to watch your back, just in case.’

  Judith felt a shiver run through her. If Ivor Doyle had killed Lennie out of revenge, then how far was he prepared to go to protect Nell now? The question hung in her mind, heavy and monstrous. If he suspected she was about to reveal his past, to hurt Nell with her revelations, then maybe he wouldn’t think twice about shutting her up – permanently.

  ‘I don’t mean to scare you,’ Saul said. ‘Maybe he is innocent, but you can’t take anything for granted.’

  ‘No,’ she murmured. ‘I understand. You think I should keep my distance.’

  ‘That’s up to you.’

  Judith didn�
��t know if she was capable of staying away from him. Despite the risk, there was still too much unfinished business, too much anger and resentment. It seethed inside her, hot and turbulent, like a storm slowly gathering force. How could she forget about him, go home and start again? It wasn’t possible. She had to stand up and be counted, whatever the consequences.

  ‘And there’s someone else I’d put on the list,’ Saul said, making a slight gesture to the right with his hand. ‘Mr Tombs has entered the room.’

  Judith looked over at the man. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this. There was nothing that screamed gangster in his appearance or demeanour. Alfred Tombs was in his fifties, smartly dressed, with an interesting rather than handsome face, greying hair and dark eyes. She followed his progress as he went from one of the central tables to another, smiling, laughing, shaking hands. He seemed pleasant and genial, a far cry from the image she’d had in her head. ‘He just looks … I don’t know, ordinary, normal.’

  ‘And yet he’s as far from that as you could imagine.’

  Judith tried not to stare. She switched her gaze back to Saul. ‘Why would you put him on the list?’

  ‘Why not? Lennie Hull was the type to cause offence. He had a big mouth and a small brain. Maybe he overstepped the mark once too often.’

  Judith found herself hoping that Tombs was the guilty party. But that element of doubt remained. Maybe, this morning, she had been talking to a killer. Her body stiffened with fear. The very thought made her blood turn to ice.

  30

  It was still early, only a few minutes past nine, when the taxi dropped Judith off in Barley Road. Saul had hailed the cab on Charlotte Street, opened the door for her and given the driver the fare in advance. She had protested – she could easily get the bus home – but he’d swept the suggestion aside.

  ‘For my sake. This way, I’ll be sure you get back safely. Take care of yourself, all right?’