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

by Roberta Kray

  ‘Perhaps she approached the killer, tried to get money out of him for keeping quiet about what she knew … or thought she knew. That’s possible, isn’t it?’

  Maud gave a visible shudder. ‘She wouldn’t do nothin’ stupid like that.’

  ‘She’d be too scared, right?’

  ‘Elsa weren’t scared of a soul and that’s the truth of it.’

  It was true, Saul thought, and perhaps that had been her undoing. If she had been attempting to blackmail Lennie Hull’s killer, she’d clearly underestimated him. ‘Did she say anything else?’

  ‘That she had a bad feeling about it, that’s what she said.’

  ‘Why should she?’

  ‘How do I know, Mr Hannah? But she were right, weren’t she? That bad feeling of hers was because …’ Maud stopped and quickly crossed herself. ‘It’s like she knew, like she sensed somethin’ bad was coming her way.’

  Saul left a respectful silence before asking, ‘Did she tell you she was planning on leaving Kellston?’

  ‘No, she wasn’t going nowhere, not that I knew of.’ Maud frowned. ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘Something someone said. They could have been wrong.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have gone without telling me.’

  ‘You were close, then? You were good friends?’

  Maud hesitated, as if weighing up the answer in her head. ‘I wouldn’t say close exactly, but I saw her most days. She could be … I don’t know, sharp, I suppose, but she was the sort who’d be there if you ever needed her.’

  ‘Did she have any family, parents, siblings, cousins?’

  ‘She never spoke about any.’

  ‘Boyfriends?’

  ‘She never said.’

  That was a relief to Saul. Even though he hadn’t exactly been a boyfriend and had been reasonably sure Elsa wouldn’t have mentioned him, it was reassuring to have it confirmed. ‘If this is connected to Lennie Hull’s murder—’

  ‘It can’t be,’ Maud said too quickly. ‘Can it? I mean, she couldn’t have …’ Her voice went up in pitch. ‘What if Pat finds out?’

  ‘Finds out what?’

  ‘He might think Elsa said something to me, that I know something.’

  ‘And do you?’

  ‘No, I told you. I don’t know nothin’. I don’t!’ She edged away from him as though he was about to try and arrest her. ‘I’ve got to go. I’ve got to get back.’

  She turned and began to walk towards the road, her head down, her stride long and purposeful. He could have run after her, but he didn’t. There was no point. She’d talk when she was ready and not before. It was frustrating to have a lead dangled in front of you and then yanked away, but the meeting hadn’t been a complete waste of time. He was pretty sure now that Elsa had been playing games with the devil – and the devil had won.

  34

  By the time Judith emerged from the interview room, she was experiencing the kind of exhaustion that comes from trying too hard not to say the wrong thing whilst simultaneously attempting to come across as being completely honest and trustworthy. Had she spotted a hint of scepticism in the eyes of the officers? It might just have been her guilty conscience. She had not exactly lied to them, but she hadn’t been entirely straight either.

  Saul was waiting for her in the foyer. ‘All right?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘I will be once I get out of here.’

  ‘They’ve finished with your suitcase. I’ve put it in the car.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, glad that she’d finally be able to change out of the creased dress and put on something else. ‘Is there any news? Have they made any progress? They won’t tell me.’

  ‘There’s not much to tell at the moment. I don’t suppose Elsa ever mentioned Lennie Hull to you?’

  Judith walked through the door he was holding open for her. ‘No, never.’ She briefly lifted her face to the sun before turning to look at him. ‘Why would she?’

  ‘No reason. I just wondered.’

  ‘Of course there’s a reason. You wouldn’t have asked otherwise.’

  He made a dismissive flapping gesture with his hand. ‘It’s probably nothing. Someone told me that she was talking about his murder yesterday, that she had it on her mind. I thought she might have said something to you.’

  ‘No, not a word. But I didn’t see her for long. I went back to get changed in the afternoon. She said she was staying in, that she was tired after work, and that was about it.’

  ‘Did she seem jumpy, nervous about anything?’

  Judith sighed as she got into the car. ‘No, she was fine, she seemed fine, the same as always. I’ve already been through all this with your colleagues.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry. You must be sick of questions by now.’

  ‘Why would she be talking about Lennie Hull? That all happened years ago.’

  ‘Five,’ he said. ‘And yes, why would she?’

  ‘Do you think Elsa was killed because she knew something about his murder?’

  ‘I reckon there’s a chance. Someone I was talking to … they said Elsa had mentioned it recently.’

  Judith now found herself with something else to worry about. As they set off along Cowan Road, she remembered what Saul had told her last night. ‘You said if you had a shortlist for Hull’s murder that Ivor Doyle would be on it.’

  ‘And he is.’

  The question stuck in her throat but she had to ask it. ‘You don’t … you don’t think he had something to do with what happened to Elsa?’

  ‘It’s a leap, but it’s not impossible.’

  Judith felt her insides clench. ‘He couldn’t,’ she said. ‘He couldn’t do that.’ And yet she didn’t really know what he was capable of. If he had killed once, he could have done it again. But to murder a woman in cold blood was very different to exacting vengeance on the man who’d damaged Nell so badly. ‘You really think Elsa knew something?’

  ‘Knew something, saw something, heard something. But whatever it was could have been enough for the killer to want to silence her.’

  ‘Who told you that Elsa was talking about Hull?’

  ‘A reliable source,’ he replied.

  ‘You’re not going to tell me.’

  ‘I can’t. But I believe them, and you should too.’

  ‘Have you told anyone else about this?’

  Saul nodded. ‘Only the inquiry team. I couldn’t keep quiet about it, just in case it is important.’

  ‘So why didn’t you mention it before I went for the interview? I’ve just sat there for over an hour, deliberately avoiding Ivor Doyle’s name, and now you’re saying they could start investigating him. I’m presuming he’s on their shortlist as well. What happens when they find out we were married? It’s going to look pretty suspicious.’

  ‘I didn’t mention it because I didn’t know. I only found out twenty minutes ago. And look, so far as they’re concerned, you’re a widow, Dan Jonson’s widow. There’s no reason for them ever to make the connection to Ivor Doyle. You’re not going to tell them, I’m not, and Ivor Doyle sure as hell isn’t, so you don’t have anything to worry about.’

  Judith wished she had his confidence, but she didn’t. The truth had a habit of rising to the surface when you least wanted it to.

  ‘It’s only one strand of the inquiry,’ he continued, ‘and a minor one at the moment. It could just be a coincidence that Elsa was talking about Hull. It doesn’t have to mean anything.’

  ‘You don’t believe that.’

  Saul was silent as they drove down the high street and turned into Silverstone Road. He pulled up outside the boarding house and switched off the engine. ‘I had a look at the scene-of-crime photos while you were being interviewed. It doesn’t seem like a normal burglary to me. The way the flat was turned over makes me think they were looking for something specific.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like something that could put the finger on Lennie Hull’s killer.’

  ‘Wh
y would she wait five years to do that?’

  ‘Who knows? The workings of Elsa’s mind were always a mystery to me. Maybe she was just biding her time, keeping it in reserve for a rainy day.’

  ‘And do you think they found it, whatever they were looking for?’

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’ He got out of the car, walked round to open her door and then took her suitcase out of the boot. ‘You sure you’re all right here? I could take you somewhere away from Kellston if you’d prefer.’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’

  ‘Not the best view in the world,’ he said, gazing down the road towards the high walls of the asylum.

  Judith automatically thought of Nell and wondered what it had been like for her in that place. And she thought of Ivor Doyle walking down this road, maybe even stepping on this very piece of pavement, when he went to visit her. Were people even allowed to visit? She didn’t know. All she did know was that the walls had a bad aura, as though whatever lay beyond was dark and cruel and sinister. She shivered and quickly averted her eyes.

  ‘What happens next?’ she asked as they went up the drive to the boarding house.

  ‘If you’ve got any sense, you’ll get on the first train home.’

  ‘And if I haven’t?’

  ‘Just stay away from Ivor Doyle. Keep your distance until this is sorted out.’

  They came to a halt at the front door. Judith took the suitcase and thanked him for the lift. ‘You’ll let me know if you hear anything?’

  ‘I’ll stay in touch.’

  She went inside. As she passed the lounge, she sensed a certain frisson in the air. Some of the residents put down their papers and magazines and turned their heads to look at her. By now word must have got around that she was the one who’d found the murdered girl. Her sudden appearance had ruffled the usual Sunday lethargy, arousing morbid curiosity and fuelling speculation.

  She hurried up the stairs to her room, went inside, dumped the suitcase on the bed and sat down beside it. What now? Stay away from Ivor Doyle was what Saul had advised, but she couldn’t do that. If she wanted to find out why Elsa had died, she had to follow the clues – and the only ones she had led straight to him.

  35

  Alf Tombs leaned against the bridge, watching the goods train as it pulled out of Kellston station. There was a loud screech, then a hiss, like an angry dragon rising from its lair. The steam rose in plumes, thick and grey, and dark smuts drifted in the air. He swept his hair clean with the palm of his hand. In the distance, church bells pealed, calling the good and the faithful to worship. As he was neither, he remained where he was, waiting for Doyle.

  Renee had been up at the crack of dawn, when she’d gone off to Mass. She had been hoping, perhaps, to atone for his many and various sins – or at least not get the blame for them. Today the churches would do brisk business. A murder always reminded people of their own mortality. They would gather to talk in hushed voices, to gossip, to revel in the horror and give thanks that they hadn’t been the victim. There but for the grace of God …

  He checked his watch again: almost eleven. The streets around the station were Sunday quiet, not even a stray kid in sight. With a killer on the loose, mothers were keeping their children on a tight leash. An overreaction, but an understandable one. Barley Road, the scene of the crime, would still be crawling with filth, and word would be going down the line to all the local spies and informers to come forward with any information they might have. The usual suspects would be pulled in for questioning, grilled and then released.

  It was bad timing so far as Alf was concerned. With the Heathrow job on the horizon, he didn’t need Old Bill poking their noses where they weren’t wanted. One weak link, one loose mouth was all it took to turn a successful job into a disaster. Fortunately, he had his own spies, including a handful at Cowan Road. Every man, as they said, had his price.

  Another five minutes passed before Doyle turned up. He strolled onto the bridge, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, his jacket flung over his shoulder. He looked like a man without a care in the world, but then appearances could be deceiving.

  ‘Morning, Alf. Trouble, I take it?’

  Alf nodded. ‘We may have a problem. You hear about the waitress that was topped last night?’

  Doyle shook his head. ‘What waitress?’

  ‘Her name was Elsa Keep. She worked at the caff, Connolly’s. Dark-haired girl. You knew her?’

  ‘It doesn’t ring any bells. I haven’t been in Connolly’s for a while.’

  ‘Someone broke into her flat on Barley Road. She ended up in the morgue.’

  ‘And that’s a problem for us because?’

  Alf scrutinised Doyle’s face, but could see nothing more than mild curiosity. ‘I got a call this morning. Seems the law think there could have been a connection with Lennie Hull’s killing. Some nark shooting their mouth off.’

  Now, suddenly, Doyle was paying attention. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s just a whisper, could be nothing.’

  ‘What’s this girl got to do with Lennie?’

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine. Could she have found out about Nell?’

  Doyle scowled and shook his head. ‘How could she? No one knows about that but us.’

  ‘So we thought. You haven’t heard anything then, over the past week or so?’

  ‘No, shit, of course not. You think I wouldn’t have told you?’ Doyle gazed down at the tracks for a few seconds before raising his head again. ‘Look, they’re probably just whistling in the wind. A rumour or the likes. You know how it is round here.’

  ‘Maybe, but I think you need to have a chat with that friend of yours. Judith Jonson was the one who found the body.’

  ‘Judith? For fuck’s sake. Are you sure?’

  ‘She’s been down Cowan Road this morning. Turns out she was staying with the girl. You’d better find out what she knows – and what she’s told the law. You need to be prepared if they come knocking at the door.’

  ‘They won’t. Why would they?’ But Doyle sounded worried. ‘Just because Hull’s name has come up doesn’t mean anything. Half the East End wanted that bastard dead. And there’s nothing that leads back to Nell.’

  ‘I hope you’re right. Anyway, have a word with your lady friend, see what she says.’

  ‘I don’t know where she is.’

  ‘Silverstone Road, number forty-two. It’s a boarding house.’

  Alf noticed Doyle flinch as he mentioned Silverstone Road. From what he’d heard, Nell’s time at the asylum had been bad, a nightmare of the worst order. ‘Yeah, is that a coincidence or is she trying to wind you up? What is it with this Judith? Strikes me she’s out to cause trouble, mate.’

  ‘I’ll sort it.’

  ‘You sure there’s nothing I should know?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like who the hell she is, and why she seems to be right in the middle of this Elsa Keep business.’

  ‘She’s just a girl from years ago, that’s all.’

  Alf wished he knew more about the redhead, but Doyle was staying tight-lipped. He didn’t like being in the dark, on the back foot, not when it came to the serious stuff. It made him uneasy. Something smelled bad, and he always trusted his nose. ‘Tell me what she says.’

  ‘I doubt she knows anything. She’s only been in London five minutes.’

  ‘Long enough to get herself involved. If she’s bearing a grudge, you’ll have to watch your back. And Nell’s too.’

  Doyle didn’t disagree with the comment about the grudge. Instead his mouth twisted a little. ‘She can’t know,’ he insisted, as though repeating it enough would eventually make it true. ‘What’s the deal with this Elsa Keep? What do you know about her?’

  ‘Only what I’ve told you. You don’t find it odd that this is all happening at the same time as your lady friend appears on the scene?’

  ‘She’s not my lady friend. You make it sound like …’ Doyle shook his head. ‘For God’s
sake, this hasn’t got anything to do with her. It can’t have.’

  ‘Let’s hope you’re right.’

  ‘Just because she’s been staying with this Elsa, just because she found the body … it doesn’t mean she knows anything about Hull.’

  Alf was listening carefully and thought he caught something overly defensive in the other man’s voice. Why was he trying to protect the Jonson broad? ‘Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think you do.’

  ‘I’ll talk to her. I’ll go and see her now.’

  ‘Watch what you say.’

  *

  Alf watched Ivor Doyle walk back across the bridge. He kept his eyes on him until he disappeared from view. He sensed a change, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was to do with honesty, he thought, or lack of it. He lit a fag and pondered on the situation.

  He’d always had a soft spot for Nell, ever since she’d started working at the club. He could still remember the day she’d turned up for her audition: just another dumb blonde with big ambitions, or so he’d thought until she stood behind the microphone, opened her mouth and started to sing. That was when he’d known she was something special. Her voice hadn’t been the biggest or even the best, but it had possessed a kind of purity that made you stop and listen.

  Nell’s career had been stopped in its tracks, and now the past was snapping at her heels. Lennie Hull had ruined her life, her future – or maybe Doyle had. Doyle was the one who’d dragged her into his mess and left her high and dry when it all went wrong. If she’d never met him, she would have been the better for it.

  He thought about Judith Jonson. Where had she come from? Why was she refusing to leave Kellston? What was her connection with Elsa Keep? If the redhead was a threat, if she knew too much, then she’d have to be sorted. What if Elsa had told Judith what she thought she knew about Lennie Hull’s murder? Nell was at risk here, in danger if the truth came out. She needed protecting, but could Alf trust Doyle to do it? Maybe his loyalties were divided, Alf didn’t believe Ivor’s protests about not caring for Judith. Maybe he didn’t have the heart to do what was necessary, to scare Judith from looking into the deaths of Elsa Keep and Lennie Hull. If that was the case, then there was only one solution: Alf would have to get rid of Judith Jonson himself.