‘I’m only reporting what Mr Burridge said to me.’
‘How reliable are his instincts?’
‘I don’t think he’d make a mistake about a thing like that.’
‘Then I shouldn’t have done so either.’
‘You weren’t looking for it, Joe,’ said Marmion.
‘There were signs, Harv. I should have spotted them.’
The detectives had met in a pub at the end of an eventful day to share a drink and compare notes. Glad to be back in his own clothing again, Keedy was in a good mood until he was jolted out of it by the news that Marmion had just passed on. He ran a hand through his hair and pursed his lips.
‘That explains why Mr Stone dismissed him,’ he said.
‘Yes, I don’t think he’d have any sympathy for gentlemen of that persuasion,’ said Marmion. ‘I fancy that the actual dismissal would have been nasty, brutish and short.’
‘Then why did Fine have no recriminations about it?’
‘That’s a good question, Joe.’
‘He gave me the impression that he was glad he left and that he’d found a better situation. I got the feeling that he might have enjoyed working in Jermyn Street much more if Cyril Burridge hadn’t constantly bullied him.’
‘Now we know why Burridge acted like that.’
‘Yes, Harv, he doesn’t sound as if he believes in tolerance.’
‘Burridge wouldn’t know the meaning of the word.’
Keedy took a long swig of his beer and smacked his lips.
‘After the day we’ve had,’ he said with feeling, ‘that tastes better than ever. I don’t know how you can drink whisky when there’s beer of this quality to be had.’
Marmion raised his glass. ‘I prefer it, Joe.’
They sipped their drinks and fell into a companionable silence. The pub was frequented by detectives from Scotland Yard and they could see several of their colleagues. Keedy was already close to finishing his first pint but Marmion was nursing his whisky and soda and taking only an occasional taste. It was Keedy who resumed the conversation.
‘So where do we go from here?’ he asked.
‘I would have thought that was obvious.’
‘You want me to interview Mr Fine again?’
‘He needs looking at more closely, Joe. He certainly has cause to bear a grudge against Mr Stone.’
‘Perhaps it was him who removed the wheels on that car.’
‘I doubt that,’ said Marmion. ‘Everything I’ve heard about Howard Fine suggests that he’s not a man to get his hands dirty.’
‘He could have paid someone else to do it.’
‘It seems like a paltry form of revenge.’
‘Not if you’re the owner of the car,’ said Keedy. ‘Mr Stone was livid, apparently. His car is a symbol of his success, Harv. It must have hurt his pride when he saw the damage.’
Marmion seemed to go off into a trance for a while. When he eventually came out of it, he saw that Keedy had finished his drink.
‘My round, I think,’ he said.
‘Tell me what you were thinking first. You were miles away.’
‘Oh, it was nothing.’
‘It was something to do with the case, if I know you.’
‘It was, Joe,’ admitted Marmion. ‘I was just thinking how much easier it would be if it was the other brother who was murdered.’
‘Herbert Stone?’
‘Yes – at least we’d have plenty of suspects. Everyone seems to have a motive for killing him. Jacob Stein, however, had no real enemies – or, at least, none that we’ve so far found.’
‘Howard Fine might be a candidate. Then there’s Burridge.’
‘Both will bear closer investigation.’
‘You know what I think, Harv,’ said Keedy. ‘If I was a betting man, I’d put money on one of those anti-Semitic groups.’
‘Have you been sifting through them?’
‘Yes – thanks to your brother. He was very helpful.’
‘Ray gets to see the seamy side of life in his job. And people trust him in a way that they wouldn’t do with the police. If Ray gives you information,’ said Marmion, ‘it’s reliable.’
‘With your permission, I’d like to send some men off to do some sniffing around. It may be possible to infiltrate some of these groups.’
‘Choose them with care, Joe. We don’t have the manpower to cover them all.’ After a long sip of his drink, he rose to his feet and picked up Keedy’s empty tankard. ‘Let me get you another.’
‘Thanks, Harv. Oh, by the way, who won the argument?’
‘What argument?’
‘You remember – the one that you and Ellen had earlier today when we called in at the house. When Alice announced her decision, you took it in your stride. Ellen wasn’t happy about that.’
Marmion chuckled. ‘She certainly wasn’t.’
‘So who won the argument?’
‘I suppose that I did, Joe.’
‘You mean that your wife has accepted the decision now?’
‘No,’ said Marmion, ‘I mean that Ellen came to see that my strategy is best. Now that Alice has made her decision, it’s the worst possible time to tackle her. She’s full of enthusiasm for the idea. Any opposition would only encourage her. Give her a few weeks, however,’ he went on, ‘and she may be more vulnerable to persuasion. There’s a long time to go before the end of term. We must bide our time.’
‘You’re a cunning old fox.’
‘My strategy may not work, of course.’
‘I’m sure it won’t.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘I had a long talk with Alice earlier on,’ said Keedy. ‘She takes after you, Harv. When she’s set on a course of action, she’ll stick to it, come hell or high water.’
Alice was a voracious reader. She liked nothing better of an evening than to bury her head in a book. Ellen did not interrupt her. Though she was sorely tempted to raise the subject of the Women’s Emergency Corps, she held back on her husband’s advice. While Alice was reading, her mother sat beside her sewing basket and repaired items of clothing. She’d just finished putting a button on Marmion’s trousers when her daughter looked up.
‘Why don’t you say it, Mummy?’
‘Say what?’
‘Come on – I know it’s on the tip of your tongue. I’m surprised you haven’t gone round to Vera’s house and tried to get her parents on your side. If you want to discuss it, speak up.’
‘I’d rather not say anything, Alice,’ her mother told her. ‘We’ve had enough rows about it. It’s time for an armistice.’
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ said Alice with relief. ‘Thank you.’ She saw the trousers. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you taught Daddy to sew on his own buttons?’
‘He’s all fingers and thumbs.’
‘I bet that Joe does all his own sewing.’
‘Is that what he told you?’
‘No – but it stands to reason.’
‘Why?’
‘He lives on his own. Who else would do his running repairs?’
‘What about that lady friend of his?’
‘I don’t think any man would keep a lady friend very long if he expected her to do his sewing. It’s not very romantic. Well,’ said Alice, developing her argument, ‘think back to the time when Daddy was courting you. How would you have felt if he’d turned up and asked you to darn his socks?’
Ellen laughed. ‘I take your point.’
‘In any case, Joe doesn’t have a lady friend at the moment.’
‘What happened to the nurse?’
‘They came to the parting of the ways.’
‘When did you discover that?’
‘It was while you and Daddy were in the kitchen.’
‘Did Joe simply come out with it?’
‘No,’ said Alice, ‘I sort of drew it out of him.’
Ellen laughed again. Since she’d been a young woman, Alice had brought home a succession of
boyfriends but they never seemed to last long. Ironically, it was the ones Ellen liked most who disappeared first. They found Alice too intelligent and assertive. Her mother had long felt that she needed an older man and the name of Joe Keedy had crossed her mind more than once. It was a friendship she’d be ready to condone but she knew that her husband would have objections.
‘You like Joe, don’t you?’ she said.
‘I always have, Mummy.’
‘He obviously likes you.’
‘Oh, I don’t really think I’m his type,’ said Alice. ‘If I had been, something might have happened long before now.’
‘I rather hoped that it would.’
‘You can’t force these things.’
‘Well, at least you have a clear field now.’
‘Mummy!’
‘There’s no need to sound so scandalised, Alice. I’m only being practical. If a man is involved with someone else, then it’s wrong to set your cap at him. When he’s on the loose, however …’
‘I’m not going to chase any man,’ said Alice, firmly. ‘I never have and I never will. That’s not the sort of person I am. Let’s not discuss it any further. I’ve got my book to read.’
Ellen was repentant. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
Hiding behind her book, Alice wondered why she felt so jangled.
* * *
When she said her prayers that night, Irene asked to be forgiven for entertaining such terrible thoughts about Ernie Gill. He’d always been given to boasting and she should have known not to take his words too literally. She’d placed far too much weight on the fact that the incident in Liverpool had occurred on the very day that he returned there. The whole city was full of people with a rabid dislike and distrust of German immigrants. Many of them had already been on the rampage. It would probably happen again. Why should she assume that Gill was guilty of murder on such slender evidence? It was grossly unfair on him. As she got into bed, she writhed in embarrassment at the memory of her visit to the Three Tuns. It would take a long time for her to live it down.
There was nothing sinister about Gill’s arrival in London. Like many other people, he’d come to the capital in search of work. It was what she’d done herself, after all. While she had a sister to go to, Gill had a friend. Admittedly, Brad Thompson lived in a disreputable area but it was only a temporary arrangement. Once Gill found his feet, he would no doubt move to a better lodging. The question that gnawed away at her was whether or not she wanted to see him again. Irene would certainly avoid him in the short term. She needed time to get over the awkwardness of their latest encounter. Gill had his job as a barber to go to and she’d soon be starting at the toy factory. They’d both be far too preoccupied to enjoy much of a social life.
Meanwhile, she could settle into her new existence. She would soon make new friends at work and enjoy Christian fellowship at church on Sundays. It would be a full and satisfying life, free from the dangers of being torpedoed by enemy submarines. She still had nightmares about the sinking. In her waking hours, however, she kept reminding herself that she’d survived, a blessing bestowed on her for a purpose. That purpose – she felt humiliated to recall it – was most definitely not to make unwarranted accusations against an innocent man. Ernie Gill was her friend. It was time she learnt to trust him.
The car was parked in a yard at the side ofThe car was parked in a yard at the side of the garage. It took them less than a minute to gain entry. Closing the double doors behind them, they loaded the vehicle with combustible materials. The man in the dungarees lit a cigarette, then took several puffs before holding it out to one of h the garage. It took them less than a minute to gain entry. Closing the double doors behind them, they loaded the vehicle with combustible materials. The man in the dungarees lit a cigarette, then took several puffs before holding it out to one of his companions.
‘Here you are, Ernie,’ he said. ‘I think it’s your turn.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Harvey Marmion had acquired a well-deserved reputation for being conscientious and few people arrived earlier at Scotland Yard than he did. When he got there next morning, however, he discovered that the commissioner was already at his desk and in urgent need of help. Summoned by a secretary, Marmion hurried along the corridor and found that Sir Edward was besieged by Herbert Stone. The visitor wasted no time on pleasantries. With an accusatory glare, he turned his fire on the newcomer.
‘You’re as much to blame as anyone, Inspector,’ he said, puce with rage. ‘You should have arranged protection for me.’
‘Against what, Mr Stone?’ asked Marmion.
‘There’s been an incident,’ explained Sir Edward.
‘Yes, I heard about the car wheels being removed.’
‘This is more serious, Inspector. Some time in the night, Mr Stone’s car was set on fire.’
‘It was utterly destroyed,’ said Stone. ‘I left it at the garage to have new wheels put on and the windscreen repaired. Somebody broke in for the sole purpose of setting it alight.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, sir,’ said Marmion.
‘You are indirectly responsible.’
‘I don’t accept that.’
‘Neither do I,’ said the commissioner.
‘The fire at the synagogue was a signal,’ argued Stone. ‘Whoever killed my brother is directing his aim at me.’
‘That’s a rather exaggerated claim,’ Marmion pointed out. ‘I know that you’re closely associated with the synagogue but so are lots of other people. Each of them might feel there was something personal in the attack. My own view is that it’s your brother’s link with it that may have provoked the outrage. When I released the body to Rabbi Hirsch,’ he remembered, ‘he told me that Jacob Stein had been his most generous benefactor.’
Stone shifted his feet. ‘My brother was a generous man.’
‘He was identified with that particular synagogue.’
‘So am I, Inspector – so am I!’
Stone was determined to portray himself as the victim of all the crimes so far committed. Marmion and the commissioner held their peace while their visitor insisted that his brother had been killed as a punishment for him, Herbert Stone, and that the attack on the synagogue and on his motor car were additional acts of persecution. When the man finally paused for breath, Marmion asked a question.
‘Can you name any discontented former employees?’
‘You already know them – Cyril Burridge and Howard Fine.’
‘I was thinking about people who worked for you in one of your warehouses, sir. As well as being a successful importer, I believe that you have widespread business interests. Can you think of anyone you sacked who might have taken umbrage?’
‘People often make wild threats when they’re dismissed,’ said Stone, flapping a hand, ‘but they rarely act on them.’
‘All the same, I think you should compile a list of names, sir.’
‘That’s sound advice,’ added the commissioner.
‘If you have become the target of someone with a grievance against you, then the culprit must lie in your past.’
Stone’s brow crinkled as he went slowly through a mental list. Marmion took the opportunity to exchange a glance with Sir Edward, who was clearly grateful for his arrival. The shop, the synagogue and the car were connected by one thing – fire. The pattern was clear. What Marmion could not fit so easily into it was the murder of Jacob Stein. Was that a parallel crime or one obscurely tied to the others? Herbert Stone came back to life again.
‘I can give you a few names,’ he conceded.
‘That would be very useful, sir,’ said Marmion. ‘And while we’re talking about employees with a potential grudge, why didn’t you tell me the real reason you sent Howard Fine packing?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You suspected that he was a homosexual.’
‘Really?’ exclaimed the commissioner. ‘That is a surprise.’
‘It was no surp
rise to me,’ said Stone, scowling. ‘I saw through his little charade the moment I laid eyes on him. For my brother’s sake, I gave Howard Fine the benefit of the doubt. When the truth became unequivocal, I sent him on his way.’
‘How did he react?’
‘It was with a barefaced denial, Inspector. But it was no use. I had evidence, you see. I’d hired a private detective to find out if his phantom wife really did exist.’
‘I’m not sure I’m following all this,’ said the commissioner.
‘He tried to pass himself off as a married man,’ said Marmion. ‘It was all a ruse behind which to hide his true sexuality. Not that I blame him for that. People take an unduly harsh view of men with those proclivities.’
‘They should be hanged, drawn and quartered,’ snarled Stone.
‘I don’t think that medieval barbarity is the answer, sir.’
‘I was not having that fop polluting my brother’s shop.’
‘I understood that he was a very skilful tailor.’
‘He was living a lie, Inspector. I exposed it.’
Stone made the announcement so grandiloquently that Marmion could imagine how much he must have enjoyed sacking Fine. He wondered how the tailor would have reacted. Instant dismissal would surely have had a profound effect on Fine and given him a strong motive to strike back. If that were the case, his target should have been Stone and not his brother. Marmion was confused.
‘When he was interviewed by Sergeant Keedy,’ he recalled, ‘Mr Fine claimed that he lived with his parents in Brighton.’
‘That was another lie,’ said Stone. ‘It’s true that he lives in the family house but his father is dead and his mother is in a nursing home.’ He smirked. ‘My private detective was very thorough.’
‘Perhaps you should have hired him to guard your car, sir.’
Stone glowered. ‘I find that remark flippant, Inspector.’
‘Then I withdraw it at once,’ said Marmion, pleased to see the smile on the commissioner’s face. ‘It was only a passing comment.’
‘What are you going to do about last night’s outrage?’
‘If you tell me the name of the garage, I’ll send detectives there to investigate. Meanwhile, I’d advise you to exercise caution. There does appear to be someone stalking you.’
A Bespoke Murder Page 20
