‘His real name was Detective Constable Ralph Palmer but we called him Palm Tree because he was so tall and skinny. The day that war was declared, he resigned his job and joined the 5th Field Company, Royal Engineers. They’re real heroes, Alice.’
‘Are they?’ she asked.
‘They were the unit that dug our army out of Mons then provided them with trenches during the long retreat. They blew up bridges to hinder any pursuit, then they had to rebuild them when the Germans drew back and our lads were able to reclaim territory that they’d just given up. And all this, remember,’ said Keedy, taking another wet plate from her, ‘was done in full view of the enemy infantry. Palm Tree and his company deserve medals.’
‘Where are the Royal Engineers now?’
‘They’re where we left them, Alice – in Flanders. They dug those trenches in Ypres.’
‘Did you never have the urge to join up yourself?’
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘but I’d just been promoted and I felt there was important work to be done on the home front. Well, the current investigation is a case in point.’
‘You’ll never catch all the people in that mob.’
‘That won’t stop us from trying.’
‘What about the killer?’
He was adamant. ‘Oh, that’s one crime we will solve.’
‘How can you be so categorical?’
‘I’m working with your father,’ he said, grinning. ‘And Inspector Marmion has never failed yet. You should know that.’
As they chatted happily, their shoulders touched and both of them enjoyed the proximity. Keedy had always been attracted to Alice but had held back from seeking a closer acquaintance with her because of the age gap between them and because he felt that her father would disapprove. For her part, Alice was very fond of him, though she had never entertained serious thoughts about a closer relationship. Working side by side with him, however, she was increasingly drawn to Keedy and hoped that the pleasure was mutual. It was not the most romantic setting. With her hands in a bowl of water, she could never be seen at her best, and he was hardly at his most dashing while buffing plates with a tea towel. Yet it was companionship of the most satisfying kind. They were at ease with each other.
‘Have you decided to join the WEC yet?’ he asked.
She pulled a face. ‘I can’t make up my mind, Joe.’
‘That doesn’t sound like you. Your father says that you’re the most decisive woman he’s ever met.’
‘What that amounts to is that I argue with him a lot.’
‘It’s good to have a mind of your own.’
‘Not every man thinks that about a woman. A lot of them prefer quiet and submissive types who wouldn’t say boo to a goose.’ She handed him the last saucer. ‘What about you, Joe?’
‘Oh, I could never be interested in any woman afraid to stand up to me,’ he said, drying the saucer before putting it on the pile. ‘An occasional argument adds spice to a friendship.’
‘It always ended the friendships that I’ve had with men,’ she admitted.
‘Then perhaps you chose the wrong kind of men.’
Facing each other as he spoke, they were only inches apart and each felt the urge to reach out and embrace the other. Keedy gave her a dazzling smile and her eyes twinkled in response. There was far more than companionship now. There was affection and need. Before either of them could make the first move, however, the door opened and Marmion put his head into the kitchen.
‘Come on, you two,’ he said, pipe still in his mouth. ‘We’ve got the cards out. It’s time to play.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
She met him for lunch in a small café recommended by her sister. Gill had suggested a drink at a pub but Irene preferred to keep him away from alcohol because it melted his inhibitions in a way that she found rather alarming. A chat over a wholesome meal and a cup of tea was much safer. Irene was smartly dressed and Gill had his best suit on once more. He’d even acquired a flower for his lapel and looked quite raffish. She made it clear from the start that she intended to pay half of the bill, thus liberating her from any feeling of obligation. After some token protests, Gill agreed.
‘What brought you to London?’ she asked.
‘You did, Irene,’ he replied with a chortle.
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘It’s partly true. I’ve got men friends here – I’m staying with one at the moment, as it happens – but, knowing that you’d moved to London helped me to make my decision. I’d be able to see you again. That doesn’t mean I’m going to pester you,’ he added, raising his palms in a placatory gesture. ‘You’re entitled to your privacy. I know that. I just hoped that we could … well, meet up now and then to talk about old times.’
‘As long as that’s all it is, Ernie,’ she said, levelly.
He put a hand to his heart. ‘On my word of honour.’
Not wishing to start an argument, Irene forbore to point out that she’d heard him make and break such solemn vows before. She let it pass, feeling that she had made her position clear and resolving that any future meetings with him would be few in number. Gill would not be allowed to upset the equilibrium of her new existence.
‘No thought of going back to sea, then?’ she asked.
‘Not a hope,’ he said. ‘My sailing days are over. There’s always work for a barber ashore. In fact, I’m going to see someone about a job this afternoon.’
‘Why didn’t you stay in Liverpool?’
‘It was time for a change, Irene.’
‘But you had family there.’
‘A brother and two sisters,’ he confirmed. ‘I never got on with any of them, to be honest. So I thought I’d give the Big Smoke a chance and see what it had to offer – apart from you, that is.’
‘Now, now, Ernie,’ she scolded. ‘Control yourself.’
‘It was meant as a compliment.’
‘You’re a bit too ready with your compliments – and I’m not the only woman who’s aware of that. You scattered them about like confetti on the Lusitania.’
He smirked. ‘I’ve always had a soft spot for a pretty face.’
‘Let’s go back to Liverpool,’ she said. ‘You once told me it was the best city in the world and that you’d never leave it. What changed your mind?’
‘Oh, it was lots of things.’
‘What did you do after we parted company at the docks?’
‘First of all, I followed you,’ he recalled, ‘then I went back to my digs and dumped all my stuff there. After that I walked to the pub where my friends go and spent the evening having pints bought for me. They all wanted to know what happened when the ship went down. I was treated like a hero.’
‘That’s what you are, Ernie.’
‘I don’t feel it. I was lucky, that’s all.’
‘We both were,’ she said, soulfully.
‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘when I had enough beer inside me, I was raring to go. They told me that most of the Germans had been either burnt out or chased out but I knew of a family that’d sort of slipped through the net. They’d been there for donkey’s years, you see, and changed their name so long ago that people forgot they were still foreigners. I knew the truth,’ he said, tapping his chest, ‘and I wasn’t going to let them get away.’
‘What did you do?’
‘We paid them a visit, Irene.’
‘I hope there was no violence.’
‘Let’s say that we did what needed to be done,’ he told her. ‘They won’t be able to hide behind the Union Jack anymore. Britain belongs to the British. Huns are not wanted.’
‘There’s been far too much senseless brutality.’
‘What about that blinking torpedo?’ he retorted, banging the table. ‘That’s what I call senseless brutality. Think of all those dead bodies floating in the sea – men, women and children murdered on the orders of some cruel German admiral. So don’t you criticise me, Irene. At least we gave people a chance to defend themselves.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Go on – tell me. When I left you in Liverpool, you were spoiling for a fight. Where did you find these people?’
‘Forget them,’ he said, evasively. ‘They’re not even worth talking about. I’ve got bigger fish to fry. Talking of which,’ he continued as he speared a chip with his fork, ‘I don’t think much of this cod. We had far better grub on the ship.’ He nudged her arm. ‘In fact, we had far better everything.’
‘Those days are over, Ernie.’
‘A man can have his memories.’
‘Provided he knows that they are only memories,’ she said.
He cackled. ‘I’ll win you over one day, Irene.’
‘Don’t you even dare to try.’
‘Oh, come on – is this the kind of life you really want?’
‘Yes, it is,’ she affirmed, chin out.
‘What – sharing a house with your spinster sister and a blind woman with one foot in the grave? You were born for better things than that. My guess is that you’ll be bored stiff within a week.’
‘Then your guess will be wrong.’
‘What the hell are you going to do all day?’
‘Have no qualms on that score. I’ll soon be working in a toy factory. That will keep me out of mischief.’
‘I love mischief,’ he said, laughing. ‘Whenever I get the chance, I enjoy causing trouble. I went to a meeting last night of people who think like me – good, honest, British citizens who are fed up with being told what to do by the government and are ready to stir things up on their own. We hit and run – just like I did in Liverpool.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It wouldn’t interest you, Irene. You’re too law-abiding.’
Her face puckered with concern. ‘Have you committed a crime?’
‘I done my country a service,’ he boasted, ‘and I had a good laugh while I was doing it. That’s all I’m ready to admit.’
Slicing off a piece of fish, he thrust it into his mouth and munched away. Irene was disturbed. A meal that had been quite pleasant had turned into a cause for alarm. Ernie Gill was a diehard Liverpudlian who’d sworn time and again that he would never leave his native city. Yet here he was, strutting around London in his best suit and revelling in the idea of making mischief. What was his real reason for leaving Liverpool and what sort of trouble had he created since he’d arrived in the capital? On balance, Irene decided, she did not want an answer to either question. It was best not to know.
Harvey Marmion was collating all the information gathered by his team of detectives. He was so immersed in his work that he didn’t hear the knock on the door and was only aware of his visitor when Joe Keedy’s shadow fell across the desk.
‘Good morning, Joe,’ he said, looking up.
‘I hear that we’ve found one of our mystery men.’
‘That’s right. His name is Howard Fine and he’s the young tailor who worked briefly at Mr Stein’s shop. He’s definitely not our killer. When his former boss was being stabbed, Fine was in Brighton with his family.’ He glanced at the sheet of paper in front of him. ‘According to this, he has a perfect alibi.’
‘He needs interviewing nevertheless.’
‘Yes, I’m having him brought in today.’
‘What about the other former employee?’ asked Keedy. ‘You know – the man who left after a big row?’
‘We’re still looking for him.’
‘He was called Porridge or something like that.’
‘Cyril Burridge,’ corrected Marmion with a laugh. ‘People who knew him say that he was a first-rate tailor with many productive years in the trade.’
‘Then why did he suddenly disappear?’
‘We’ll ask him when we find him, Joe. We’ll also ask him why he and Stein fell out after such a long time together. David Cohen, who managed the shop, said that Burridge seemed set to spend the rest of his life working in Jermyn Street.’
‘So what went wrong, Inspector?’
‘The only person who can tell us that is the man himself.’
‘If he’s that experienced,’ said Keedy, ‘he must have found a job elsewhere by now.’
‘Oh, he has. Burridge was snapped up by one of Stein’s bitter rivals in Savile Row. It was the first place our lads looked but it seems that Burridge is on leave at the moment.’
‘Where has he gone?’
‘Nobody seems to know,’ replied Marmion. ‘When they called at his house, there was nobody there.’
‘Do you think he’s gone into hiding?’
‘It’s beginning to look like that, Joe.’
He handed a report about the man to Keedy who flicked through it before putting it back on the desk. In his opinion, Burridge had to be considered as a suspect. He reasoned that someone who had been in the business for so many years would be familiar with Stein’s routine and very much aware of what the safe in the upstairs room had contained. Another factor weighed with Keedy.
‘Burridge is not a Jewish name, is it?’
‘No,’ replied Marmion. ‘He’s a chapel-going Yorkshireman from Barnsley. That’s what Cohen told me anyway. I had the feeling that Burridge was not the manager’s best friend. He could be blunt.’
‘They speak their mind in Yorkshire.’
‘I’m all in favour of plain speaking, Joe.’ He rose to his feet. ‘It means that you know where you stand with people.’ He checked his watch. ‘I’d like you to interview Mr Fine, if you will. He’s on his way here right now. It’s probably a waste of time but you might just get a nugget or two out of him. There’s no harm in trying.’
‘What will you be doing, Inspector?’
‘I’ll be grilling some other people who took part in the raid on the shop. While we were away, our lads tracked down three of them in all but not – alas – the man with the petrol can.’
Marmion went on to inform him that John Gatliffe had been released on bail but that Oliver Cochran had been refused bail and was remanded in custody. The inspector had no fears that Gatliffe would abscond. The soldier was ashamed of what he’d done and was ready to take his punishment. Instead of returning to his family as a courageous soldier, he’d had to slink home with his tail between his legs and explain the situation to his parents. Cochran, by contrast, still maintaining his innocence, was likely to make a run for it if set free. He was better off behind bars where he could not intimidate his friend.
‘We may have done the pair of them a favour,’ said Keedy. ‘Prison might turn out to be a lighter option than being stuck in a trench while the Germans use them as target practice.’
‘I fancy that Cochran and Gatliffe would disagree. Compared to the regime they’ll face in prison, the army will seem like a relief. And think of the humiliation they’re going to suffer.’
Keedy remembered the ordeal endured by Ruth Stein.
‘I’d rather think about the humiliation the girl suffered.’
Marmion nodded. ‘So would I, Joe – so would I.’
‘I’d better go and see if Mr Fine has arrived.’
‘Ask him if there were any tensions at the shop.’
‘I don’t think he was there long enough to find out.’
‘You never know.’
When Keedy left the room, Marmion resumed his seat and began to sift through the paperwork. He was soon interrupted by a tap on the door. As it opened, a young detective constable stepped into the room. He cleared his throat before speaking.
‘There’s a gentleman outside who insists on speaking to you, Inspector,’ he said.
‘Then show the fellow in.’
The constable beckoned to someone in the corridor and a well-dressed man in his fifties strode purposefully into the office.
‘Inspector Marmion?’ he enquired.
‘That’s me, sir,’ said Marmion.
‘I’m Cyril Burridge. I understand you’ve been looking for me.’
Irene
Bayard visited the shoe shop as a customer rather than as the sister of its manager. Dorothy, however, insisted on giving her preferential treatment and served Irene herself. While her sister was trying on a third pair of shoes, Dorothy tried to probe.
‘When will you be seeing Ernest again?’ she asked.
‘We haven’t set a date.’
‘It’s good for you to have a friend in London.’
‘He’s not that kind of friend, Dot.’
‘He proposed to you, didn’t he? So he must be keen.’
‘Yes,’ said Irene with a sigh. ‘He’s keen all right.’
‘What happened yesterday? All you’ve told me is that you had a nice lunch together. There must have been more to it than that.’
‘There wasn’t.’
Having put on both shoes, Irene stood up and walked up and down to test them for comfort. Then she stood in front of the mirror to see how they looked. Dorothy waited while her sister had another stroll up and down the shop. Irene eventually sat down again.
‘The left one is pinching my foot slightly,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I’ll need a larger size after all.’
‘I’ll get a pair for you to try.’
Dorothy darted off into the storeroom. Irene removed the shoes and turned one over to see the price marked on the sole. Her sister came back with a pair in the same style. Dorothy put them on.
‘How do they feel?’ asked Dorothy.
‘Much better, thanks.’
‘You’ve always had wide feet.’
‘It comes from spending so much time on them, Dot. When I worked for Cunard, I was always at someone’s beck and call. It will be nice to have a job where I can work sitting down.’
‘Did you tell Ernest about the toy factory?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does he have a job yet?’
‘He was going for an interview yesterday.’
‘Where?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Irene, slipping on both shoes then standing up and promenading again. She stopped in front of the mirror and examined the shoes from various angles. ‘These are really comfy.’
‘Does that mean you’ll take them?’
‘Yes … yes, I think I will.’
A Bespoke Murder Page 13
