‘Yes, Inspector – thank you.’
‘Goodbye, Mrs Skene.’
Before she could bid him farewell, the line went dead. Handing the receiver to the sergeant, she went back to the bench and perched on the edge of it. She was not at all sure that she was doing the right thing but the decision had been made now. Still stunned by the death of her young friend, Caroline’s grief would only be softened by the arrest of the killer. It was time to be more honest with Marmion.
After finishing work, Mansel Price left the hullabaloo of the railway station and made his way to Fred Hambridge’s workshop. The carpenter was stacking a door against a wall when the Welshman arrived. Price was glad to see that his friend was alone.
‘Where’s the boss?’ he asked.
‘Charlie went off to price a job,’ said Hambridge. ‘He won’t be back for ages.’
‘Good – it means we can talk. I’ve got news for you, Fred.’ ‘What’s happened?’
‘I almost caught the man who painted things on Cyril’s wall.’
He described the incident during the night and was enraged that he’d been robbed of the chance to overpower the man. Having lurked in the dark for so long, Price felt that he deserved the kudos of catching him.
‘I blame Sergeant Keedy,’ he said.
‘What was he doing there?’
‘The same as me – only he had the sense to stay indoors. He was in the front room of a house nearby. He had a feeling that the man might come back again with his paintbrush. I was mad at him for interfering but the truth is that it was probably just as well. If he hadn’t come along, I’d have torn that man to pieces.’
‘Then you’d have been in trouble with the police as well.’
‘The sergeant said that they’d soon find him at daybreak. He left his ladder and his paint. Both could be traced back to him.’
‘You did well, Mansel.’
‘I got in a couple of good punches, I know that.’
‘You should have let me know you were going to stay up all night. I could have waited with you. The two of us could have nabbed him. Anyway,’ said Hambridge, crossing to the wall where his coat was hanging, ‘I’m glad you called in. I’ve got something to show you.’
Price grinned wickedly. ‘It’s not a dirty postcard, is it?’
‘No – it’s something a bit more serious than that.’
He handed the Welshman the letter. Price took it out of the envelope and read it through, his anger slowly mounting.
‘Don’t go, Fred,’ he urged.
‘I have to go. I’d be breaking the law.’
‘Burn the letter. Tell them it never arrived.’
‘They’d only send another one. You’ll be getting one yourself.’
Price was aggressive. ‘I don’t take orders from on high. If they want me to go before a tribunal, they’ll bloody well have to come and fetch me.’
‘There’s no point in upsetting them, Mansel. It could work against you.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘I’ll be seeking exemption on the grounds that I’m a Quaker,’ said Hambridge. ‘My parents will come to the tribunal and so will Charlie. Having people speak up for you is bound to help. You must have someone on your side.’
‘My parents are back home in the Rhondda. They’d never come here.’
‘What about your boss?’
‘I think he’d be glad to see the back of me. I’ll get no help there. Besides,’ he went on, grandiloquently, ‘I’m ready for a tussle with the tribunal. It’ll be a case of no holds barred. I’ll tell them just what I think about this stupid idea of enforced military service. It’s a form of bloody slavery.’
Hambridge was worried about him. Because of his religion, the carpenter felt that he had a chance of exemption, even though two Quaker friends of his had been conscripted after their appearance before a tribunal. If Price went there with the express purpose of provoking those who sat in judgement on him, he’d be more or less inviting them to deal harshly with him.
‘There’s no point in deliberately upsetting them,’ he argued. ‘That’s what Cyril taught us. We have to present a reasoned argument.’
‘I’ll do it my way, Fred – you do it yours.’
Hambridge took the letter back from him and stowed it away in his coat.
‘What about Gordon?’ he asked.
‘He’s my big worry,’ said Price, bitterly. ‘If he gets married in order to dodge conscription, I’ll never speak to the bastard again.’
‘I think we talked him out of it, Mansel.’
‘I hope so. When I think of all those meetings the three of us had with Cyril, I just can’t believe that Gordon would desert us. He was always boasting about the way he’d defy the tribunal. He said he didn’t care what they did to him. Then,’ he added with utter contempt, ‘he tried using Ruby Cosgrove to save him from the army. Thank goodness we changed his mind for him.’
Since he’d last seen his fiancée, Leach had done a lot of thinking. He regretted his suggestion of an early marriage and was still smarting from the comments made by Price and Hambridge. The Welshman, in particular, had been quite vicious with him. They were good friends and he didn’t want to lose their respect. Under the guidance of Ablatt, they’d bonded together. If anything, the murder should have tightened that bond and helped them to present a united front against the possibility of conscription. Yet he had threatened to break it apart and couldn’t quite understand what had impelled him to do so. Leach was not afraid to go to prison, if necessary. In that eventuality, Ruby had promised to stand by him. Sharing his pacifism, she’d always supported him in his determination to resist fighting.
What did she think of him now? Did she feel the same unquestioning love for him? Leach doubted it. When they’d parted, Ruby had looked at him in an odd and rather unsettling way. It was as if she was discovering an aspect of his character for the first time and was not sure if she liked it. The prospect of an early marriage would have been discussed with her parents. Leach was certain they’d have found the idea unappealing. His own parents had been more amenable. His father was keen to retain his help in the bakery and his mother wanted him saved from the unspeakable horrors at the front. Wounded soldiers were a common sight in the streets, a stark warning to what lay in wait for those sent to the trenches.
Leach loitered outside the factory until the hooter sounded. It was not long before the mass exodus took place, hundreds of bodies streaming out of the building in a rush to get home. Ruby Cosgrove was walking arm in arm with two friends. When she saw Leach, she broke away and trotted across to him.
‘I’ve been dying to see you, Gordon,’ she said, accepting a kiss.
‘That’s good to hear. I thought you were angry with me.’
‘Why should I be angry?’
‘You didn’t like the idea I put to you.’
‘That was because I didn’t really take it in,’ she explained.
It was impossible to have a private conversation in the middle of a crowd so they walked down the road and turned into a quiet side street. Ruby’s face was glowing with expectation. He was relieved to see that she’d recovered all of her buoyancy and good humour.
‘Mummy and Daddy hated it at first,’ she told him, ‘but they slowly came to see that there were advantages. In the end, they were in favour of us getting this three-day licence to marry. Daddy said it would save him a lot of money if we didn’t have the reception we’d planned. He liked that.’
‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I’ve had a change of heart.’
Her face clouded. ‘You mean that you don’t love me any more?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Then what are you talking about?’
‘It’s this three-day licence, Ruby.’
‘All the girls at work thought it was so romantic,’ she said, dreamily. ‘They were very jealous. They all want to be swept off their feet and carried to the altar as quickly as that.’
‘But your aunt is making the wedding dr
ess. That will take time.’
‘No, it wouldn’t, Gordon. I went round to see her last night. Auntie Gwen said she’d only need ten days or so to finish it. She works very fast.’
‘What about the church? It’s already booked.’
‘We simply tell the vicar that we’ve changed our minds.’
‘But that’s the thing, Ruby,’ he said, awkwardly. ‘I haven’t.’
She stared at him with surprise tinged with a sense of betrayal. When she left home that morning, it was with the certainty that she could marry him far sooner than planned, with the added bonus of taking him out of reach of conscription. Once they’d thought about it, her parents and her aunt had given their approval and her friends at the factory had all been enthusiastic about the notion. Suddenly, there was a problem. Having made her elated, Leach had just dampened her spirits. Ruby couldn’t believe that he would let her down like that.
‘I thought it was what you wanted,’ she said, lower lip quivering.
‘It was, Ruby, but things have changed.’
‘What sort of things?’
‘I talked it over with Fred and Mansel.’
‘I’m marrying you, Gordon Leach, and not them.’
‘But we came to this agreement, you see,’ he said. ‘All four of us – Cyril included – vowed that we’d take a stand against conscription together.’
‘That was then – this is now.’
‘They made me look at it in a different light.’
She flew into a rage. ‘In other words, you don’t want to marry me.’
‘There’s nothing I want more, Ruby.’
‘I hate you for this,’ she cried. ‘You get my hopes up, then you dash them. Wait till the girls hear about this – they’ll have a good laugh at me. You’re cruel, Gordon, you really are. What’s so special about Fred and Mansel? You always said you put me first. Why let them tell you what to do?’
‘Calm down,’ he said, trying to put an arm around her.
She pushed him away. ‘Leave go of me!’
‘There’s no need to fly off the handle, Ruby.’
‘Is this how it’s going to be? Every time we need to make a big decision, will you have to go and take the advice of your friends first?’
‘It’s not like that at all.’
‘Well, that’s how it seems, Gordon.’
‘I’ve got … obligations.’
‘I used to think you had obligations to me.’
‘I do,’ he said, getting flustered. ‘Listen, I can’t explain when you’re in this sort of state. Why don’t we wait until we can talk this over quietly? There’s no need for an argument. I love you, Ruby. We’re on the same side. Don’t you see that?’
‘All I see is that you’ve made me look a fool.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘I’ve got to go back home to my parents and tell them that it was a joke. You never really wanted to get married to me at short notice, did you?’
‘I did!’ he protested. ‘Part of me still does.’
‘Well, I don’t want part of you, Gordon Leach. I want all of you. If I can’t have that, I’ll have nothing at all.’
Pulling out a handkerchief, she turned round and scurried off down the street. He ran after her and grabbed her by the shoulders to bring her to a halt. Ruby was trembling all over.
‘Why don’t we discuss this another time?’ he said, desperately. ‘We’ve obviously got off on the wrong foot.’
‘There’s nothing to discuss,’ she said, laying down her ultimatum. ‘It’s time you made your choice. Who is more important to you – me or your friends? I’m not prepared to share you with them, Gordon. I really mean that.’
Brushing away his hands, she walked off again and he was too dazed to follow. Leach was mortified. Because of his folly, he was in danger of losing her altogether.
Caroline Skene could not be rushed. Marmion could see that. When he got to the police station, she was brooding on the bench. Glad to be rescued from the place, she said nothing as they got into the car. Marmion wondered what she was doing in Shoreditch but did not press her on the subject. When he suggested that they should drive back to Lambeth, she shook her head vigorously. He used his own initiative. Ten minutes after picking her up, they were sitting side by side on a park bench. There was no danger of anyone overhearing them there. Sensing that she wouldn’t have got in touch with him unless she had something important to divulge, he was patient and considerate.
‘There’s no hurry,’ he said. ‘Take all the time you need, Mrs Skene.’
It was almost over a minute before she finally spoke.
‘I owe you an apology, Inspector,’ she began.
‘Why is that?’
‘There’s something I should have told you when we first met,’ she said, ‘but I was too confused by what had happened. The news of Cyril’s death shook me to the core. I still haven’t got used to it.’
‘Tell me about this apology.’
‘I’m related to the Ablatt family. Gerald is my cousin.’
‘That explains how you met his son.’
‘We’ve known each other for years. It was a very long time before we … got closer to each other.’ She looked up at him. ‘Don’t be too critical of us.’
‘Is that why you were in Shoreditch?’
‘Yes, Inspector – I went to offer comfort. If I’m honest, however, I was there for another reason altogether.’
Marmion was ahead of her. ‘Did you want to retrieve something, perhaps?’
‘Yes, I did,’ she admitted. ‘I’d sent him letters and given him keepsakes. I didn’t want his father finding them. It would have hurt him beyond bearing.’
‘And did you find what you were after?’
‘I was lucky. The vicar called at the house and that gave me the chance to go upstairs. I searched every nook and cranny. There’s nothing left to incriminate us.’
‘Falling in love with someone is not a crime, Mrs Skene.’
‘It is in this case. It was forbidden love, Inspector. I was married and Cyril was much younger than me. It felt wrong from the start but we couldn’t help it.’
‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’ he asked. ‘I don’t think you’d have got in touch with me unless you had important information to give.’
She lowered her head. ‘You’ll think ill of me when I tell you.’
‘I’ve no reason to do that, Mrs Skene.’
‘In a way, it’s hampered your investigation. I should have been honest.’
‘You were trying to absorb some frightful news,’ he said. ‘You’d suffered a terrible blow. Anyone would be bewildered in those circumstances.’
‘I wasn’t that bewildered, Inspector,’ she said. ‘I knew that I should have spoken up. But it was something that I wanted to keep to myself, a memory that I’ll always treasure. It was the newspaper that made me see sense.’
‘How did the newspaper do that?’
‘It gave details of the murder and showed a diagram of the route that Cyril would have taken on his way home that evening. But that wasn’t the way he went at all,’ she said, raising her head. ‘He didn’t go from Bishopsgate to Shoreditch. He came to see me first. Cyril was so excited about what had happened at the meeting that he simply had to tell me about it. I’ve never seen him so happy.’ She inhaled deeply. ‘Can you see what I’m trying to tell you?’
‘I’m afraid that I can,’ said Marmion, letting his annoyance show. ‘The murder took place somewhere between Lambeth and Shoreditch. We’ve been looking in the wrong place.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
There were times when Claude Chatfield showed exactly why he’d been promoted to the rank of superintendent. He was a whirlwind of activity, scanning the newspapers, sending his minions here and there, collating all the information he received, reporting to the commissioner, Sir Edward Henry, and organising another press conference. The murder of Cyril Ablatt was only one of the cases for which he was responsible
and his grasp of detail in every one of them was impressive. When he and Marmion faced the press again, he even remembered to smile, though his hatchet face was so unused to expressing bonhomie that it came across as a sinister leer. Having filtered the post-mortem report, he gave them enough information to fill a column without descending into ghoulishness. Chatfield also made much of the arrest of Robbie Gill and praised Detective Sergeant Joseph Keedy for tracking the man down. The reporters were familiar with Keedy’s name because he’d ably assisted Marmion in the past in some very complex cases.
‘I now hand you over to the inspector,’ said Chatfield, sitting back.
Marmion took over. ‘Thank you, sir.’
He had little to add to what they’d already been told with the exception of the information garnered from Caroline Skene. As a result of what he claimed was an anonymous tip-off, he told them that the police would now widen their search to include Lambeth. The route taken home by Ablatt from Bishopsgate therefore had to be amended.
‘How do you know he was in Lambeth, Inspector?’ asked someone.
‘He was spotted there by a friend.’
‘Can you give us the name of that friend?’
‘I wish I could,’ said Marmion, face motionless. ‘But the information is very specific and I’ve no reason to doubt it.’
‘Why didn’t this so-called friend reveal who he is?’
‘I should imagine that he didn’t want to get embroiled in the investigation. As you know, that’s all too common. People who have valuable evidence sometimes prefer to pass it on anonymously to avoid any repercussions. In cases of murder, particularly, they fear for their safety.’
‘Villains will do anything to scare witnesses,’ confirmed the superintendent, ‘and I don’t need to tell you about jury tampering.’
Marmion invited questions and they were fired at him with the rapidity of bullets from a Gatling gun. He answered them all and set the pencils scribbling into notebooks. Chatfield felt obliged to interject from time to time but it was Marmion they all wanted to grill. He was calm under fire. Though he’d been distressed at the slant some of them had put on their articles, he offered no censure. Nothing he could say would make them view a conscientious objector more dispassionately. When the press conference was over and everyone dispersed, he walked along a corridor with the superintendent beside him.
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