Browne chuckled. ‘The wily old devil!’ he exclaimed. ‘How ever did he manage that?’
‘We thought he might have told you,’ said Keedy, levelly. ‘When someone breaks out, they usually make for a trusted friend.’
‘Not in this case, Sergeant. Last time I saw Wally was when I visited him in prison weeks and weeks ago. He told me to go ahead and put his house on the market, then he gave me a list of things he wanted kept in store for him. Nothing illegal in that, is there?’ he asked, spreading his arms. ‘I’m not aiding and abetting a criminal, am I? I’m just doing a favour for a friend.’
They both had the feeling that Browne knew about the escape but they didn’t press him on the subject. Instead they asked him where the fugitive was likely to go. After some persuasion, Browne gave them a few names and addresses. The first person mentioned was already in Marmion’s notebook.
‘Yes, we know Maisie Rogers,’ he said.
Browne grinned. ‘Once seen, never forgotten.’
‘He was in the Dun Cow with her when we arrested him.’
‘She still pulls pints there, Inspector. Maisie is a game girl. She and Wally have known each other for donkey’s years. But she’s like me. The law is the law. We obey it. We’d never harbour an escaped convict – even if he was a friend.’
‘But you might tell him where he could lie low.’
‘I might,’ said the other, chirpily, ‘but I didn’t.’
‘Well, if he does turn up, be sure to get in touch with us.’
Browne put a hand to his heart. ‘You got my solemn promise, gents.’
‘There are severe penalties for aiding a prisoner on the run,’ cautioned Marmion. ‘I don’t think you’d fare well in Pentonville somehow, sir.’
‘You’re right there. The place stinks. When I paid my visit, I couldn’t wait to get out again. I like my home comforts. But don’t be too hard on Wally,’ he added, airily. ‘He’s a good man at heart.’
‘Good men don’t put a prison warder in hospital.’
‘Is that what he did?’
‘I visited the fellow,’ said Marmion. ‘Hubbard cracked his skull open.’
‘I’m sure that he regretted doing that.’
‘Try telling that to the warder in question.’
‘Wally’s not a violent man.’
‘He was violent enough when we arrested him,’ said Keedy. ‘We had a real struggle to get the handcuffs on him.’
‘Look,’ said Browne, seriously, ‘I don’t condone what he did, whether it was setting fire to a house or bashing someone over the head. That’s wrong in my book. What I can tell you is this, and I speak as someone who’s known him for ages.’
‘Go on,’ said Marmion.
‘Wally Hubbard is one of the most kind, gentle, law-abiding people I’ve ever met. Yes, he has a dark side, maybe – we all have. But, as a rule, he’s as decent and honest a man as you could wish to meet. You can quote me on that.’
The pounding in his head made it hard for him to sleep. Though Pearce dozed off time and again, he always awoke soon after. No matter how many times he adjusted his position in the bed, he could not get rid of the pain. Having drifted off once more, he dreamt that something heavy was pressing down on him. When he came awake again, he realised that it was no dream. A brown paper parcel had been put on his chest. He recognised the colleague standing beside the bed.
‘What’s this, Arthur?’ he asked.
‘Open it up and find out.’
‘You do it for me.’
‘Right,’ said the other, starting to undo the string. ‘It was delivered to the main gate by some scrawny kid. He said a man paid him sixpence to hand it over.’ Putting the string aside, he opened the brown paper. ‘It looks like someone sent your uniform back, Ken. And there’s a note inside.’
‘What does it say?’
‘See for yourself.’
He held the scrap of paper in front of Pearce. The message was in capitals.
I’M SORRY
CHAPTER FIVE
A continuing theme of Superintendent Chatfield’s criticism was that Marmion did not keep in touch with him enough in the course of an investigation. After the meeting with Felix Browne, therefore, the inspector made a point of returning to Scotland Yard to deliver an interim report. Chatfield listened intently from start to finish.
‘You seem to have asked all the right questions,’ he said, grudgingly.
‘We did our best, sir.’
‘This fellow, Browne, interests me.’
‘We’ll be keeping a close eye on him.’
‘There are a lot of crooks in the property business.’
‘Felix Browne doesn’t have a criminal record, sir. I checked. On the other hand,’ said Marmion, ‘I got the distinct impression that he sails close to the wind.’
‘How involved are he and Hubbard?’
‘They’re old friends and business partners.’
‘And they’re both reasonably successful, by the sound of it.’
‘They’ve had joint ownership of more than one pub.’
‘In other words,’ said Chatfield, ‘neither of them is short of money. Your report mentioned Sergeant Keedy’s belief that Hubbard bought certain items in readiness for the escape. Is that right?’
‘It’s more than likely, sir.’
‘But how did he get the money into prison in the first place? Surely, everyone is thoroughly searched before he’s put in a cell.’
‘There are ways of getting around that, Superintendent.’
‘Tell me more.’
‘I don’t think you really want to know.’
Chatfield sniffed. ‘I don’t shock easily.’
‘Five-pound notes are so flimsy that they can be twisted into a very tight roll. It’s then inserted into a bodily orifice and goes unnoticed during the search.’ He saw the pained look on the other man’s face. ‘Do you want me to go on, sir?’
‘No,’ said Chatfield in disgust. ‘I think I can guess the rest.’
‘It’s not always easy to retrieve. Sometimes they need a spoon to—’
‘That’s enough, thank you!’
‘You did ask, sir.’
‘Let’s move on to this woman, Maisie Rogers.’
‘I intend to interview her as soon as I leave here.’
‘What about Sergeant Keedy?’
‘He’s tackling the problem from the other end, so to speak,’ said Marmion. ‘Hubbard escaped for the sole purpose of wreaking his revenge on Ben Croft. He needs to be found before Hubbard gets anywhere near him. We don’t have a last known address for Croft, of course, because his house was burnt to the ground, but the sergeant is very resourceful. He’ll soon pick up a trail.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
Marmion rose to his feet. ‘I’ll be on my way, then.’
‘Wait a moment,’ said Chatfield, glancing down at the notepad in front of him. ‘I have some news for you. Not long before you returned, I had a phone call from the Governor of Pentonville.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Well, he was complimentary about you and Keedy. You obviously contrived to create a good impression during your visit, but that wasn’t the reason for the call.’
‘Then what was?’
‘A package was delivered to the prison by a small boy who’d been paid by someone to hand it over. You’ll never guess what was in it.’
‘I think that I would, sir.’
‘Well?’
‘It was the uniform stolen from Mr Pearce.’
Chatfield was crestfallen. ‘How on earth did you know that?’
Remembering what Felix Browne had said about his friend, it had come to Marmion in a flash. He seized a rare opportunity to impress the superintendent.
‘I’ve met Hubbard, sir. It’s typical of him.’
Maisie Rogers had always enjoyed working in a pub. The bar was her natural habitat. She liked the noise, the bustle and the invigorating banter. Since the war had s
tarted, however, there was progressively less of each. Opening hours were curtailed, beer was eventually watered and the convivial atmosphere was somewhat diminished. Many customers had vanished altogether into the army, never to reappear or, if they did so, were limping on crutches or bearing hideous wounds. The most striking change was one that Maisie applauded. More women were coming into the pubs without the need of a man to accompany them. War had melted some of the boundaries between the sexes. Because women now did many of the jobs traditionally reserved for men, they’d gained confidence and suddenly had money to spend. Female munition workers or motor mechanics were now a familiar sight to Maisie.
She got to the Dun Cow well ahead of opening time in order to do her chores. One of them was to clear away the empty beer bottles left by customers that morning. They’d been stacked in wooden crates under the bar. Heaving the first one up, Maisie took it into the back room then rested it on a table while she unlocked the door to the yard. Stepping out, she put the crate on top of an existing stack of empties to await collection. Before she could turn around, she felt an arm around her waist and a hand over her mouth.
‘Boo!’ whispered Hubbard.
Releasing her, he turned her around and tried to give her a kiss.
‘You must stop popping up like that, Wally,’ she complained, holding him off. ‘It’s not good for my nerves.’
‘I knew I’d find you out here at this time. I wanted to hear what the coppers said when they called.’
‘It wasn’t them. It was old Mrs Abberley with a pot of broth. She looks after my landlady when I’m not there.’ She punched him. ‘Why did you disappear?’
‘I wasn’t taking any chances, Maisie.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘It’s better if you don’t know.’
‘When will I see you again?’
‘When I need some more of this,’ he said, kissing her on the lips and provoking a warm response. ‘That was well worth the risk.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Get in touch with Felix. Tell him I need some money.’
‘Why can’t you do that yourself?’
‘Just do as I ask – please.’
‘How much do you want?’
‘Felix will know.’
‘And how do I get it to you?’
‘I’ll be in touch.’ He snatched another kiss. ‘Must be off, darling,’ he went on, ‘Inspector Marmion arrested me here once. He’s not going to do it again.’
‘You fought like a demon.’
‘I’d have got away if it hadn’t been for that sergeant. Keedy’s got a punch like the kick of a mule. I’m going to keep well clear of that bastard.’
Finding him was going to be a problem. Joe Keedy accepted that. Ben Croft was a man who left few footprints. As a seasoned philanderer, he always kept two or three women in tow so that he had different places to stay in London. If they became pregnant – like Lisa Hubbard – he’d drop them like a stone and go in search of a replacement. He’d fathered a couple of children but, to her chagrin, his wife had remained childless. It was one of the reasons she was estranged from him. There were several others. Veronica Croft was a slender, sharp-featured woman whose good looks were masked by a permanent scowl. When Keedy called on her, she’d just come home from work at a nearby factory and was still wearing dungarees. Her tone was unfriendly. Instead of inviting him in, she’d kept him on the doorstep.
‘What do you want, Sergeant?’
‘I need to locate your husband, Mrs Croft.’
‘Well, don’t expect me to help you. I haven’t a clue where he is and, frankly, I don’t give a damn.’
‘Mr Croft is in serious danger.’
‘Who cares?’
‘We do, as it happens,’ said Keedy. ‘Did you know that Wally Hubbard has escaped from prison?’ She looked startled. ‘Good – at least I’ve got your attention now. You can guess who he’s looking for.’
‘I’m not surprised. Ben treated Hubbard’s daughter dreadfully. He can be so callous when he wants to be. It happened to the others as well. The wonder is that nobody went after Ben until now.’
‘Mr Hubbard is not intending simply to slap his wrist.’
She snorted. ‘He can hack his lying head off for all I care!’
‘Isn’t that rather harsh, Mrs Croft?’
‘You don’t know what he did to me.’
Keedy could see the obvious effects of it. Ben Croft had betrayed his wife time and again, turning a once attractive woman into a sour and resentful harridan. Instead of raising the family she’d hoped for, Veronica had been forced out of the comfortable home she’d shared with her husband and was now living with her mother again in a drab terraced house in a dismal backstreet. Keedy remembered how embittered she’d been when he met her in the wake of the fire.
‘I still feel the same,’ she asserted. ‘I was glad when that place was burnt to a cinder. It held so many painful memories for me. My only disappointment was that Ben was not inside when it was set alight.’
‘Has Mr Croft been in touch with you recently?’
‘He wouldn’t dare.’
‘Doesn’t he provide you with any money?’ She laughed scornfully. ‘I thought he’d inherited a sizeable amount when his parents died.’
‘He did, Sergeant, but I didn’t see a penny of it. He used it to lavish on his latest conquest. Ben’s legacy was big enough to make him give up his job as an insurance agent. He leads a life of luxury – until someone catches up with him.’
Keedy was momentarily surprised. When she tilted her head and struck a pose, he noticed something that he hadn’t seen when he’d met her for the first time. She looked uncannily like Alice. It took his breath away.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked, peering at him.
‘Yes,’ he said, recovering quickly, ‘my mind wandered for a second. I’m sorry about that. Where was I?’
‘You were asking about money. Ben keeps it for himself.’
‘What about his former colleagues at the office? Is he still in touch?’
‘Ask them.’
‘Somebody must know where he is, Mrs Croft. He can’t just have vanished into thin air. What about his latest—’
‘The word is “victim”, Sergeant.’
‘Do you happen to know her name?’
‘I don’t keep a scorecard of my husband’s sordid little triumphs,’ she said with withering contempt. ‘I’ve had a long day at the factory, Sergeant. I need a good wash and a hot meal. Was there anything else?’
He met her challenging stare. ‘You know where to find me, Mrs Croft.’
‘Goodbye.’
She turned on her heel, went into the house and shut the door firmly behind her. Keedy was saddened. Her future was bleak. She must once have loved Croft enough to marry him, he reasoned, and had been eager to bear his children. What poison had entered the marriage and how corrosive had it been? He thought of Alice and vowed that he’d never treat her as heartlessly as Veronica Croft had been treated. It went beyond cruelty. The fleeting resemblance between the two women had unnerved him. It had also reminded him how long it had been since he’d seen Alice. He missed her badly.
It was weeks since Alice Marmion had visited her mother so, the moment her shift finished and she’d fielded the usual unflattering comments from Inspector Gale, she bade Iris Goodliffe farewell and hastened to the appropriate bus stop. Thirty minutes later, she was ringing the doorbell at her home. Opening the door almost immediately, Ellen was so delighted to see her daughter that she flung herself into Alice’s arms and burst into tears.
‘Whatever’s the matter, Mummy?’
‘Oh, it’s such a relief to see you!’
‘Why – what’s happened?’
‘Come in and I’ll tell you,’ said Ellen, producing a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. ‘What a terrible welcome to give you! Please forgive me.’
‘There’s nothing to forgive, Mummy.’
They went in
to the living room and sat side by side on the sofa. Ellen told her about the visit from Patricia Redwood and her daughter and how badly Paul had behaved towards them. Alice couldn’t believe that her brother could be so rude to a girl he once knew at school. It bordered on malice.
‘He’ll have to apologise,’ she said, determinedly.
‘I wouldn’t dare to ask him, Alice.’
‘Then I’ll speak to him.’
‘It would have to be your father,’ said Ellen. ‘Paul does actually listen to him. I don’t believe that he hears half of what I say to him. It’s very hurtful. The trouble is that your father is so rarely here. Paul is always in bed by the time he gets back.’
‘Daddy is not late every night, is he?’
‘He is when it’s a murder investigation. After the last one was finally over, I’d hoped I’d see a little more of him but something else has come up.’
‘Another murder?’
‘No,’ said her mother, ‘it’s that prisoner who escaped from Pentonville. Since your father caught him the first time, he’s been asked to do it again. He rang me from Scotland Yard earlier on. He’s not supposed to use the telephone for personal use but he wanted to warn me that he’d be late back.’
‘Oh, dear! That means Joe is going to be working all hours as well.’
‘It’s that man who set a house on fire.’
‘I remember the case, Mummy. Joe told me all about it. He also showed me the bruises he picked up during the arrest.’
‘It was my turn to pick up a few bruises today,’ said Ellen, wearily. ‘Just because they’re not the kind that show, it doesn’t mean they don’t hurt.’
‘You can’t let it go on like this. After what happened today, you’ll be afraid to invite anyone here in case Paul insults them. How did Mrs Redwood react?’
‘She was wounded – and so was Sally. They left almost at once.’
‘It must have been awful for you!’
‘It was far worse for Pat and her daughter. They weren’t expecting it.’
‘Is Paul here now?’
‘No, he’s still out somewhere.’
The Enemy Within Page 4
