‘Who’s that?’
‘Felix Browne.’
Having worked at home in his office for most of the morning, Browne looked up when his wife brought in a cup of tea.
‘Thank you, sweetheart,’ he said.
‘This just came through the letter box,’ she told him, handing over an envelope with nothing but his name on it.
He was mystified. ‘I wonder who sent this.’
Using a paperknife to slit it open, Browne extracted a sheet of paper. Wally Hubbard’s message was in bold capitals.
THANKS, FELIX. YOU’LL GET YOUR REWARD IN HEAVEN.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ellen Marmion decided that she could not simply stay away any longer from the sewing circle. Even if she got a frosty reception there, she felt that she had to go. She’d been postponing far too many things. When she found the portrait of Sally Redwood, her first impulse was to confront Paul but she was afraid to do that in case it sparked another row. On the previous night, Marmion had come home very late, looking jaded and weary. Since he already had far too much on his plate, she chose to say nothing to him about her son’s worrying venture into art. It showed a cruelty that she’d never associated with him before and she wondered why he had taken against such a harmless girl. The portrait stayed in her handbag. The last thing her husband needed was yet another source of anxiety.
On the walk to the sewing circle, she thought about Paul’s girlfriends. Though he’d never been short of one at school, they rarely lasted very long. At the time he volunteered, however, he’d finally found a steady girlfriend and Ellen was beginning to think that Sylvia Dyce might one day change her maiden name to Marmion. On his first leave, Paul could not wait to see her again and the couple had been drawn closer. Afterwards, the girl’s mother had confided breathlessly to Ellen that they’d talked about an engagement. It was not to be. On his second return home, Paul had lost all his buoyancy and readiness to please. He was rude, distant and uncaring towards Sylvia. In the hope that he was only going through a phase, she stood by him but the relationship was foundering. After an acrimonious row, they split up.
There had been nobody else until he had a letter out of the blue from Mavis Tandy, the former girlfriend of Colin Fryatt. Since Paul and he had been so close, she wanted to hear everything he could tell her about him, especially the way that he’d died on the battlefield. Ellen never knew what went on between them but she’d noticed a new intensity in her son’s interest. All of a sudden, it had disappeared. Something had happened and he’d never gone off to see her again. Unable to make friends of either sex, Paul had become a disgruntled loner. His response to an old school friend like Sally Redwood was to throw darts at her portrait.
When she got to the place, she had to stand outside for a few minutes to screw up her courage to go in. At length, she took a deep breath and opened the door. There were a dozen women there, sewing or knitting. Each one of them looked up, giving her a smile or a word of welcome. There was no hostile atmosphere at all.
‘Where’s Pat?’ asked Ellen, looking around.
‘We haven’t seen her for days,’ replied someone.
‘Oh, I see.’
‘We missed you yesterday, Ellen.’
‘Something came up,’ she said, the lie slipping easily from her lips.
‘There’s still some tea in the pot.’
‘Thank you.’
‘How’s that son of yours getting on?’
‘Oh, he’s getting better … much better, in fact.’
This time a lie left a burning sensation in her throat.
Her name was Helen Graydon and she was older than the others. Lisa Hubbard had been barely nineteen when Ben Croft took an interest in her and he’d told her he preferred the company of younger women because they were still open to new experience. Helen Graydon was at least thirty and she was married. Watching the house from a concealed position, Wally Hubbard surmised that Croft had made a deliberate switch from vulnerable teenagers who might have vengeful fathers. In choosing Helen, he had an insurance policy. She would not expect to marry him. While her husband was away in the army, she was enjoying herself with Croft because he provided some excitement. It would end when her husband returned. From Croft’s point of view, there was a decided bonus. As a mature woman, she had ample sexual experience. He didn’t have to waste time breaking down her inhibitions.
After making a few discreet and casual enquiries, Hubbard had built up a picture of Helen’s life. She was an attractive, intelligent woman who lived alone in a neat villa and craved more than a life of lonely evenings at home. During the day, she worked as a secretary to the managing director of a paint factory. On the previous day, Hubbard had followed her there and back without arousing any suspicion. He only wished that he’d followed his daughter with the same manic interest. Had he done so, he might have prevented the disastrous friendship with Croft into which she’d been cleverly lured. Guilt at his negligence was another of the impulses that drove him on. He was atoning for his mistakes as a father.
When she’d emerged from her house that morning, Helen had walked right past Hubbard, blithely unaware of the fact that he’d follow her again. There’d been no sign of Croft so far but he didn’t believe the man could stay away from such a striking woman for long. Helen Graydon was his bait. All that Hubbard had to do, he thought, was to bide his time and his victim would, hopefully, soon make an appearance.
‘You’re very quiet today, Alice.’
‘Am I?’
‘You’ve hardly said a word since we set off on our beat.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Alice, suppressing a yawn. ‘I had a very late night and I’m paying for it. I’ll make an effort to stay awake.’
‘Did you see Joe?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘I wish I had a gorgeous man like that who’d walk with me in the moonlight.’
‘There was no moon last night, Iris. The sky was black and we got caught in a shower. We had to dive into a bus shelter.’
They came to a junction, waited for the traffic to go past, then crossed the road. Alice Marmion and Iris Goodliffe matched each other stride for stride. During their months together, they’d blended into a real partnership.
‘I thought you were going to visit your mother,’ said Iris.
‘I did visit her. I was just lucky that Joe rang the house while I was there.’
‘Did you see your brother?’
‘I had a brief chat with him.’
‘How is he?’
‘Paul is … more or less the same, really.’
‘That means he’s terribly lonely.’
‘That’s his choice, Iris. He’s sort of withdrawn from the world.’
‘He’s a bit young to turn into a monk,’ she said. ‘When most army lads come back home, all they want is beer and excitement. We’ve seen them turning out of a pub late at night. They say the cheekiest things.’
‘I try not to hear them.’
‘They don’t mean any harm, Alice. I feel sorry for them. It may be the last chance of a bit of fun they get. They’ll soon be back on the boat to France. If they’re not killed by the Germans, they may end up in the same pickle as Paul.’
‘He’s not in any pickle,’ argued Alice, hurt by the choice of phrase. ‘He’s getting better each day. Paul can read a newspaper without any trouble now and Mummy doesn’t have to worry any more about him getting run over if he goes out alone. To all intents and purposes, he looks as healthy as you and me.’
‘But he’s not as healthy, is he, Alice? I can tell.’
‘He will be one day.’
‘I read an article about shell shock. It’s so unpredictable.’
‘Lots of people make a complete recovery.’
‘And just as many are subject to fits and tantrums and gruesome nightmares that wake them in the middle of the night. It can last for years, apparently. That’s what the article said.’
‘Yes, we’ve read everything there is to r
ead about the subject,’ said Alice, hoping to terminate the discussion. ‘And my parents had a long talk with the army doctor. They know what to expect.’
‘Why doesn’t he have a girlfriend?’
‘Paul doesn’t have any kind of friend at the moment.’
‘That’s unnatural.’
‘It’s his choice, Iris. We accept that that’s what he wants at the moment.’
‘But it will only hinder his recovery. In the article—’
‘I don’t care about the article,’ said Alice, interrupting her. ‘Every case is different. Paul is dealing with his problems his way and we support him in that.’
‘Have you ever told him about me?’
‘He’s not very interested in my work, I’m afraid.’
‘But you’re his sister. He ought to be proud of what you do.’
‘Is your sister proud of what you do, Iris?’
‘Not really,’ said the other with a giggle. ‘She’d much rather have me working back in one of our pharmacies. To be honest, I think she’s a bit jealous of me.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s because I do a dangerous job and work alongside Inspector Marmion’s daughter. Even my sister has heard of your father. He’s a sort of legend at Scotland Yard. He never seems to fail.’
Harvey Marmion was all too conscious of his failures. Though they’d toiled for two whole days, they still had no idea where the escaped prisoner was and even less idea where his intended victim could be. Hubbard had good reason to stay out of sight but Croft’s disappearance was inexplicable. Marmion had toyed with the notion of putting an appeal in the newspapers, urging him to make contact with the police as soon as he could. What stopped him from doing so was the realisation that if Croft had felt the need of police protection he’d have already come forward of his own volition. That thought had dictated his change of tactics. He moved Keedy from the hunt for Croft to the surveillance of Felix Browne, friend and erstwhile business associate of Hubbard. If the police could not locate Ben Croft, reasoned Marmion, then Hubbard would have even more difficulty because he had far less resources. It was a point he put to Maisie Rogers.
‘How can he hope to find Ben Croft?’ he asked.
‘You’re asking the wrong question, Inspector.’
‘Am I?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You should be asking how Wally could possibly escape from Pentonville. And yet he did somehow. Never put anything past him.’
‘Is that what he told you?’
‘No, it isn’t, because I haven’t been in touch with him.’
‘Doesn’t that make you feel neglected?’
‘It makes me grateful that Wally is so considerate,’ she replied. ‘If he comes anywhere near me, he’d be putting me in danger and he doesn’t want to do that.’
‘So Hubbard is considerate, is he? That’s not a word that Kenneth Pearce would ever apply to him. He’s the warder who was knocked unconscious during the escape. Hubbard was very inconsiderate towards him.’
‘He’s always been very gentle with me,’ she said, loyally.
‘Was that before his imprisonment or since?’
‘It was during, Inspector. I used to pop into Pentonville on visiting days to cheer him up. We had some good times together.’
Marmion laughed. They were standing outside the house where she had a flat. Maisie had been on the point of going to work when she saw the police car draw up outside. She left the house immediately so that Marmion didn’t come inside again. Maisie didn’t want her landlady to realise what was actually going on. It might lead to a search for new digs.
‘Why are you bothering me again?’ she asked.
‘I just wondered if you’d changed your mind.’
‘About what?’
‘Being sentenced to a long spell in prison.’
‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘That’s because – or so you claim – Hubbard hasn’t been in contact with you. If he does so, he’s putting you in a very awkward position. You’d not only be helping an escaped convict, you would, in effect, be condoning murder.’
‘No, I wouldn’t,’ she protested.
‘Do you want to see him kill Ben Croft?’
‘Of course I don’t!’
‘Then help us to catch Hubbard.’
‘How can I when I don’t know where he is?’
‘You’re close to him,’ he said, ‘and I daresay you know who his other kindred spirits are, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but it would be a very long list. Everyone who ever worked for Wally Hubbard liked him. He had that effect on people. You sort of became part of his family. He was just very …’
‘Loveable?’ suggested Marmion.
‘Let’s settle for “friendly”, shall we? That way you won’t get the wrong idea about how close Wally and I really were.’
‘What about his daughter? You knew her, presumably.’
‘Yes, I met Lisa a couple of times.’
‘Did she live with Hubbard?’
‘No,’ said Maisie, ‘that was part of the problem. He never saw much of her. She shared a flat in Highgate with a girl called Daisy Drew. Wally reckoned that she was no daisy. She was as ugly as sin, he said. That’s why I remember her name.’
‘And Lisa?’
‘She was very, very pretty but a bit unworldly, if you ask me.’
‘So she’d be an easy target for someone like Croft?’
‘I’m afraid so. She never even mentioned his name to Wally and, of course, her mother had died years ago so she couldn’t confide in her either. Lisa was spotted by Croft and, in no time at all, she was hooked.’
‘When did Hubbard first become aware that she was in trouble?’
‘It was months after she’d been dumped. The stupid girl blamed herself for what had happened and refused to tell Wally the name of the father. It was only when she’d lost the baby and was dying in hospital that he got the truth out of her. All he could think about then,’ she went on, ‘was making Ben Croft pay.’
‘I know the rest of the story.’
‘Does that mean I can catch my bus, Inspector?’
‘No, it doesn’t.’
‘I have to be at the Dun Cow in half an hour.’
‘We’ll get you there sooner than that,’ he said, indicating the car at the kerb. ‘You’ve been very helpful, Maisie. The least I can do is offer you a lift.’
She stood her ground. ‘I’d rather take the bus, if you don’t mind.’
Raymond and Lily Marmion worked tirelessly to help others. They made sure that anyone staying at the hostels had regular meals even though they were unable to enjoy that luxury themselves. Having seized a spare moment to have a cup of tea and a sandwich, the couple were in the kitchen.
‘He doesn’t mix with the others at all,’ she observed.
‘It’s his first time, Lily. He doesn’t know the ropes yet. David will be fine when he settles in.’
‘But he won’t be staying.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘David told me himself. It was the longest conversation I’ve ever had with him. He actually managed three whole sentences. He said that he doesn’t fit in here.’
‘Would he rather sleep in a doorway under a piece of cardboard?’
‘David needs to keep on the move.’
‘Why?’
‘He wouldn’t tell me that.’
‘What a strange fellow he is!’ said Raymond, shaking his head. ‘If we hadn’t rescued him, he’d have ended up in hospital or coughed himself to death. Here at the hostel, he’s been warm, well fed and properly looked after – yet he plans to leave.’
‘He doesn’t feel safe here – you can see it in his eyes.’
‘Nowhere is safer than a Salvation Army hostel, Lily.’
‘David doesn’t agree.’
‘Has he taken against us or something?’
‘No, Raymond, it’s nothing like that.’
‘Then what is
it?’
She glanced towards the day room. ‘He’s frightened of something.’
Joe Keedy was becoming increasingly impatient. When he’d been given the job of tailing someone, he was very pleased, especially as he had a car and a driver at his disposal. He’d nursed high hopes that Felix Browne would come furtively out of his house, get into his car and drive off to a secret rendezvous with Wally Hubbard. The sergeant could then arrest them together. In reality, however, all that happened was that Browne left his home, drove to his main office and went inside. Keedy spent a long time outside, idling away his time by walking up and down. He did make the mistake at one point of looking in the shop window at the extensive display of houses for sale and rental. Some of the prices quoted made his eyes water. He and Alice could never afford to buy any of the houses, yet they had to live somewhere. He began to speculate on which area they’d choose and how much they could afford.
Browne eventually emerged from the building and went to an expensive restaurant for a late lunch. Keedy was condemned to watch outside from a safe distance and listen to the rumbling of his stomach. Browne’s next move was to the side street where he’d parked his car. Keedy’s interest was ignited at once. He got into his own vehicle and ordered the driver to follow Browne’s car. After weaving through a labyrinth of streets for a couple of miles, the estate agent pulled up outside one of his branch offices and went inside. Keedy was left cooling his heels. When he risked walking past the shop window, he saw a very different selection of houses on display. They were invariably small terraced properties in deprived areas of the city, slum dwellings renovated by Browne so that he could put up the asking price. Most were offered for rental rather than sale. While they were very much within the range of the notional budget of Keedy and Alice, he didn’t feel able to ask her to consider a single one of them. They were universally unappealing.
Felix Browne clearly operated at both ends of the market. He sold large and desirable houses to middle-class clients and acted as a slum landlord to those of more slender means. Keedy returned to the car and watched through the window. It was another long and unproductive wait.
The Enemy Within Page 8
